If you've been reading this blog I bet you wouldn't consider me lucky. I also bet you wouldn't think that I, myself, consider me lucky. Would you believe I do? Every honorable person at one time or another thinks, "I shouldn't complain so much really. There are people out there fighting cancer, starving, homeless..." I, too, have tried to discipline my whiny, complaining ways with these thoughts. But when I say I'm lucky I don't mean it in this way. I'm actually talking about my panic disorder, depression, and BPD. Mind you, I don't want these things, but I wouldn't be who I am today if I had not inherited these diseases. And yes, I did inherit them. The furthest I have been able to trace them back is to my maternal great great grandfather. He gave it to my great grandmother and all the women since have had varying degrees of issues. Still, I am lucky.
I may have BPD. I may have bad moments. But 95% of the time I'm okay. I'm "normal." Yes, I do have to be mindful every second of every moment I'm awake. I continuously take in information throughout the day and react to it just like everyone else. The difference is, I have to send it through a number of "mindful filters" before I react. I have to make sure I have correctly assessed the information and then I can respond. Even then, I don't always get it right.
Sounds exhausting right? It is. More than I could ever try and explain. But let me tell you why I'm lucky. With this blog I'm attempting to show the nature of BPD. I have only met a few other people with this disease but approximately 1.6 Americans age 18 and over have it. And those are just the known cases. It should be of no surprise that those numbers are continuing to rise. Most people who have BPD don't or won't have the control that I have. I don't say that out of superiority. I say that because I've been lucky. I've had 25 years of therapy and experience along with a collegiate education in psychology. I can't imagine the fear and confusion people out there with BPD are experiencing. It makes me weep. The extreme feelings are so horrible. And everything in your life is going wrong and you don't know why. You can't keep a job, all your relationships are a mess, the anger makes you someone you don't know at all, and you're so tired. Unfortunately, no amount of sleep will wake you from this nightmare. You just want to end it all and many do.
I could be one of those people. On the other hand, I could have never had any of these problems and be quite the wanker today. I've seen video evidence from college that leads me to this possible conclusion. These diseases put many restrictions on me beginning at age 10. Without them, I think the words conceited, selfish, and indifferent may have been used to describe me. Maybe not. Regardless, I don't think church and God would have been the center of my life.
Some people believe that if I were a true christian and really believed in God I would ask him to heal me and by faith it would happen. After all, God did not give me the disease, it came from the Devil. That is true, but even Paul had a "thorn in his side" that Jesus declined to heal. The Bible never says what it was. Some say it was physical. Others say different. I've heard people state that they believe it was something to keep him humble so he could continue to do God's work. The thing is, I have prayed. I have asked God. And I believe he can do it. But I also believe that sometimes he says no or not now. We may not understand it but we have to accept that he knows what is best for us.
So maybe I'm not lucky. Maybe, more correctly, I would say I'm blessed. It isn't what I would have chosen for myself but I can choose how I handle it. How I let it effect my life and my relationship with God. As I said before, not all days are good days. Some days I can't see the blessing through the disease. But it is always there.
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