parents
I wish they had reached out sooner. I wish I wasn’t overseas. I wish they had tried to understand. I wish they didn’t treat me the same as my siblings. I wish they didn’t treat me differently.
I think I’m starting to have an honest conversation about myself and who I want to be. For my entire childhood I had no solid identity except wanting to learn. Technology. And creative fields from architecture to film to 3d modelling and printing.
They’re finally willing to try listening and learning about my conditions and how they impact me beyond my control. My dad hated the idea I had bpd and can could be the cause but he was willing to learn more. But I think it’s all too little too late.
I’m alone on this journey and today it’s coming to an end. Which is slightly bitter but in a weirdly twisted sweet way. In a way that I only dream of. And it will hopefully be peaceful.
I’ve chosen a last meal. And chosen a method. I’m missing things already. This past week of despair and pain have already put my life in tailspin. Continuing would be so much pain and stress with no easy solution and no clear way out.
I don’t even know if my parents would pull me out. They’re so desperate to cling to the notion that I’m normal. Or capable of normal. At least it feels that way.
I think if I had any confidence that they understood the extent of my comorbid conditions I’d have chosen a different path. I’d have told them how I felt. I’d have wanted them to help.
But I don’t have that confidence. I feel like they would try to help correct the course I’m on. To untail spin my life. So I haven’t told them. I haven’t asked. And I only wish I did.
It would be less lonely then I feel now.