A couple of hours with a psychiatrist today.
She indicated that given the information I could impart within that time, that she thinks it is likely that I am BPD (borderline personality disorder). But, she says that it will take more time to get a formal diagnosis.
I am booked in for DBT (treatment used for BPD) and 40 sessions of psychotherapy.
So .. it appears that I was right all along .. all of the shrinks and doctors who kept diagnosing me with clinical depression – well .. they only got it half right. Turns out I AM bat-shit crazy.
So fucking over the whole thing right now.
I have recently been through a really shitty break up.
Actually, I got dumped.
Actually, I got brutally dumped.
And then I tried to kill myself.
And then I realised that my ex most probably has a personality disorder. So, I joined a forum for people recovering from relationships with people who suffer from personality disorders.
And the stories seemed so familiar .. but not only about what happened with my ex. They also sounded eerily familiar about ME.
And then I remembered all the shitty break ups with all the shitty men I have had in my life and I realised that the common denominator in all of this was .. well .. me.
It appears that the chaos and destruction and general crazy that has been my life (on and off) was MY fault. It wasn’t because the world was too difficult, or because I couldn’t catch a break, or that I had really, really (REALLY) crappy taste in men or any of the dozens of reasons that I had always imagined it was.
It was/is because of me.
I am broken.
I have always been broken. I am just not sure exactly what kind of broken I am.
I am going for a psych evaluation in the next week or so … and I am afraid the he will tell me that I have lived all these years with a broken mirror for a soul. I am also afraid that he will tell me that I am perfectly normal.
Somehow, finding out that there IS something wrong, as in fundamentally wrong, will be a relief.