The session

So ofcourse the T was a bit shocked but I had told him he would have to remain calm and try not to get upset with me. He obliged.

And as I suspected he kept looking at the incident in terms of its Self Harm aspects rather than the sheer desperation I felt to keep a lie intact that i cooked up to keep people from thinking badly of me. And the more we talked about it, the more I found myself pulling at pieces of my hair and realizing they needed to be cut.

i don't really remember what was discussed between the revelation and then his new diagnosis; the sheer anxiety i felt basically has obliterated most of the memory of the session. I only heard him mention "Borderline Personality Disorder." From there it became this cat & mouse game of him trying to get me to accept it's feasibility and me trying to logically talk my way out of it.

Eventually he won. He had handed me the official criteria for the disorder and I sat and read it. My last ditch effort to avoid it ("but basically any of those disorders could apply to me...") failed. Suddenly I was at the bottom of the pit flat on my back looking up. I sat there and tried not to cry because I knew in my heart that this was the end. Not the end of my life mind you, but the end of any hope of getting "me" back. There was no sitting and waiting for a pill to work. This battle requires me to put in some effort to undo 35 years of damage and I know I won't. It's just not worth it to me. I can spend my energy surviving day to day or I can divert some of that energy to fighting this and then possibly lose the survival battle.

And the truth of the matter is I realized that I have no reason to try to fix this. Who cares? There is no spouse or child whose happiness is dependent on my giving this the good fight. I know you guys will say you want the best for me and I appreciate that. From where i am sitting, this is the best because there is no way for me to deal with the upheaval that intensive therapy is going to create. it's not so easy to just plug up the hole in your armor it makes and then go back into the war as if the last 50 minutes never happened.

and the disorder makes me even more conscious of everything i say and do. Nothing feels like it belongs to me. I try to question the diagnosis--well that's symptom # 3. no thought action or emotion belongs to me anymore.

he mentioned partial hospitalization, the truth of the matter is i welcome the chance. I don't care about the drugs, I don't care about the locks; as long as the world is kept at bay then i'm good. he knows this so he said he'd rather avoid it if possible.