Because of BPD, I live a life that is vastly different than the majority of my peers. And for the most part, this has all come in the last year and a half. Basically it is because of my meds. They alter my mind. They alter my moods. I have to be very cognizant of what I put in my body and how it can affect my meds. I learned the hard way that drinking to excess can be extremely toxic to me. And dangerous. I avoid situations in which I will be too tempted to drink too much. This means my social life has become pretty nonexistent. I don’t go out to bars or clubs. I have to decline when friends invite me out and it hurts because the majority of them don’t know the reason why. They just think that I’m ditching out or that I don’t want to hang out with them. Which is so far from the truth. But the truth behind my decisions, I don’t feel I need to share with every single person in my life. They don’t all need to know those deepest parts of myself, the battles that I fight within me. So I continue to decline, just tell them that I’m not a big partier. Sometimes I miss being able to have that carefree attitude. I miss being able to go out on the weekends and not have to worry about anything. But on the other hand, I am proud of myself for the decisions that I continue to make. Because truth be told, I am a party person. I would love to be able to drink away the night and not remember anything the next morning. I would love to be able to go out with the new friends that I made during softball and continue to build those relationships. But I can’t. I like the person that I am at the moment. And I want to remain this way. And I know that if I were to make those decisions and stop caring so much, I would become different. I would feel out of control. I would lose myself. I would be back where I was two years ago. And that’s a place I promised myself that I would never return.
So you can call me anti-social. You can say that I never want to hang out. You can say that I’m not as outgoing as I seem to be. You can say that I don’t care about your friendship. You can say that I’m lame and a “grandma” because I never want to go out. It’s ok. You can call me all of those things. But. The one thing you cannot call me is dead. You cannot say that you wish you had had another chance to tell me how much I meant to you. You cannot ask the “what if” questions that would surround your mind if I was no longer here. You may never know the battle inside me. You may never know the depths that I deal with daily. You will never know how badly I wish that I could be normal like you. You will never know how badly I want to be your friend and share drunken stories with you. You will never know how wrong you are in all of your assumptions about me. But you will also never know what it’s like to miss me. And I think that’s worth more than any bar tab we could ever obtain. At least I hope it is.