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Day 1 - a photo of myself

I’m Grace. Wow. I’m using a capital letter for my name. I don’t often do that, because I don’t think I’m important. 

I have Borderline Personality Disorder. This affects my emotions. Some days I can’t cope with the level of anticipated emotion and I can’t get out of bed to face the day, no matter how much my rational mind wants to. 

I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. This means I often can’t sit still until something is in the right order. I can’t colour until the pencils are in perfect rainbow order. I can’t eat jellybeans until they are in even coloured lines. I have to have 3 spoons of coffee and 1 or 3 sugars in my coffee or I can’t drink it. It means I count everything several times until I’m SURE I’m right. It means almost constant overwhelming desire to count and organise. 

I have anxiety. This means I can’t speak on the phone some days. It means I find it difficult to start a conversation or walk into a classroom where I know no one. It means I cry if I’m late and if I’m early. It means if I’ve had a confrontation I have to fight MYSELF to be in a situation with that person. It means I have very few close friends, because I am mistrustful. 

I self harm. This means that when my emotions get overwhelming, I go through all my healthy coping mechanisms and it STILL doesn’t ease the feeling so I see no option but to harm myself. It means I scratch myself, pull my leg hair out and my hair out by the handful. It means I punch to bruise myself and burn myself and it means I cut myself repeatedly. It means that my little nieces have to ask what the marks are. It means I am embarrassed to show my arms and legs in public. It means I can’t comfortably wear bathers. 

I have EDNOS. This means that I starve myself, binge (objectively and subjectively) and purge and abuse laxatives and in the past, diuretics. It means that I have low blood pressure and whacky bloods. It means that I put my friends and family through hell. It means I can’t eat bananaicecreamchocolatewhitebreadlollipopscustard, I can’t eat with a knife and fork. I can’t eat a sandwich without pulling it apart. Sometimes it means it takes me an hour to finish a sandwich or even just a packet of vege chips. 

But I am recovering. This means endless doctors appointments and psych reviews. It means hospital trips and fights with my Nan. It means pushing my friends away then pulling them back. It means judgement and blood tests every couple of weeks. It means blind weigh ins and throwing away blades and laxatives. It means a meal plan and supplement drinks. It means gaining life and gaining weight.

It means losing hate and gaining strength.