I still remember thinking and saying, "I'll go to this psychiatric hospital once and then everything will be fine." Well, for those who believed that... it was neither the first nor the last time. Back then, I had hoped that my head would be treated like a broken arm – a cast around it, a bit of rest, and then back to normal. But unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Somehow I knew it too, as I had already experienced one or two family examples that contradicted this theory even then.
I am me, not Mr. Depression or Mr. Borderline
What was always important to me: I am not my diagnosis. I have Borderline. I suffer from depression. But I am Daniel. And I live – sometimes better, sometimes worse – with these diagnoses. The diagnoses may be important for doctors and insurance companies, but in the end, I think it doesn't matter what you call it. You're not 100% fit up there, no more or no less.
But even there, I wasn't always completely honest with myself. Because over time, I noticed how often I explained or excused my behavior with it: "I'm just sick and I can't help it." Or: "I'm just moody because I have Borderline." And sometimes it's not even the illness, but simply human behavior that everyone shows at some point. You shouldn't overthink and excuse everything.
Between real life and victim role
I also experienced how quickly you are spared from the outside. "It's okay, it will get better over time," or "I can't believe you managed to get your Abitur and two master's degrees," my family doctor once said. Sounds nice, but sometimes I would have wished for more honesty. Because that's how you easily slip into the victim role and blame many things on the illnesses, because you might no longer believe that anything can really change. But that is dangerous.
Mental illnesses are work, not an excuse
Especially with Borderline, change is hard work. Therapy, setbacks, progress, setbacks again. It's a process. But if you always blame everything on the diagnosis, you will never change. Yes, it makes many things more difficult, sometimes it seems impossible. But it's not an excuse to stand still and leave everything as it is. I say this so easily here, but I often don't behave accordingly or think exactly what I write here not to want to do.
Seismograph for (other people's) feelings
I often feel like a seismograph. I perceive other people's emotions – especially negative ones – so strongly as if they were my own. This greatly influences my behavior. I often don't express unpleasant things because I already feel the reactions internally. That's exhausting. But enduring it, my therapist says, can be practiced. You can learn to stand up for yourself, even if it feels wrong or threatening. I believe that sometimes, not always – especially not when I act differently than planned again. Despite therapy in what feels like 8 out of 10 situations, but it's a process – I would whisper to myself now.
What I don't want to be and yet already am a little
Despite everything, I sometimes catch myself thinking: "I have xxx, I can't do that." And that's exactly what I don't want to be. I don't want to be the person who gives up before trying. I don't want to be defined only by my illness – but also by what I achieve despite it.
It's okay not to be okay. But it's not okay to give up on yourself. You're allowed to be weak. You're allowed to make mistakes. But you should stay true to yourself and not forget who you are: In my case: Daniel. Not my diagnosis. Even if it's not always easy.
