existence is suffering is finding joy in between the suffering.

in case you missed me: i had to slap myself awake again.

a birthday lost to pain, 04/27/25.

May is Mental Health Awareness month - well, it’s mental health awareness month every month on here, but I will try to make it count a little more these days.

Absurdly, the timing is just right. Having had a major setback last month. A raging BPD episode that left me, my partner, my loved ones with nasty scars - physically and emotionally.

As long as I live and breathe, I will have a lot of work to do - living with a chronic illness is an every day job on top of my everyday job on top of my basic human getting-through-this-thing-called-life job.

I forgot about this for a split second. And the people dearest to my heart paid for it - including myself.

---

It’s funny how I never had the chance to come to terms with my BPD diagnosis before they hit me with the ADHD one.

In between the two diagnoses that changed my life was basically nothing but the short pause between two breaths.

I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital because a psychiatrist told me I was severely depressed. It always felt odd to me. I didn’t feel depressed. I remember thinking: „Is this really what depression feels like? Have I been depressed my whole life then?“

But I didn’t question it - I’ve never seen a psychiatrist before. So I just had to trust her, I thought.

She prescribed antidepressants that even after months felt like swallowing chocolate chips, they even tasted sweet. But nothing changed. And I got angrier. And more reckless. I was sure that I must be incurable then. If these pills won’t help, nothing will. I found a therapist whose words meant nothing to me. No matter how much I tried to explain myself, she looked at me like I spoke in a foreign language, like I was from another planet even. A feeling I was most accustomed to.

I got worse. So the next time I saw that psychiatrist, she said I should admit myself to a clinic.

And so I did.

I thought - aaahhh there it is, finally, I’m a real psycho now. I’m such a hopeless case, they want me locked away from society. I don’t belong to the world. I never did. Finally someone other than me sees that.

creating, breathing, feeling.

I was admitted to a DBT clinic as part of a depression and burnout recovery program.

Across the hall, there was another group of patients. Mostly young women. Wearing Docs, big headphones with cat ears, they had colored hair, tattoos, piercings, scars.

I felt drawn to them and yet again out of place in the group I was placed in.

I started hanging out with the punkish girls. The misfits. They were a lot younger than me but it didn’t feel like it.

One of my therapists - the art therapist, the one whose room I occupied every chance I got - once came over to me, asking me how I felt in the current program.

I shrugged. It was alright, I guess. I like the principles of DBT, I like that they’re treating us as equals, I liked art therapy and meditation classes.

But you don‘t connect with the things the people in group say about their emotions, their lives, how they feel towards others - right?

I stopped drawing and glanced at her.

I think you should talk to the Doctor later - I made an appointment for you with her. Do you feel comfortable going?, she warily asked, leaning closer into me.

I nodded.

See, I think the reason why you don’t feel quite like you belong into your group is that you might not be depressed at all, the tiny doctor with the doe eyes and spiky Alice Cullen-like hair said.

I felt like she just punched me in the gut.

How dare she take that away from me?!

I think you feel drawn to our Borderlines and ADHDers because you might feel more like the way they feel.

What did she mean?

ADHD? Isn’t that a boy‘s thing? I’ve never heard anything but cliches about the way my brain was wired.

The Borderline thing… well, I couldn’t say I’ve never heard that one before.

For the first time in my life, when I was only 13. When my teacher asked my parents to come in. When she asked them about our home, our relationship, about how she felt like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my tiny, teenage shoulders.

All my mom said and my dad didn’t object to was:
Our children aren’t sick. They’re children. Julie’s a teenager. Hormonal. Dramatic. Sensitive. Always been… so.ridiculously.sensitive.

I was 30 when the sweet doctor told me once again what my sweet teacher did 17 years prior. But this time, I was the one receiving the message loud and clear. This time, I was the adult myself. Capable of taking care of myself. Of the broken, wounded girl inside of me.

I was lucky. So god damn lucky.
And privileged. So fucking privileged.

And I intended to be grateful for it.

That after 30 years of suffering, of crying, thrashing, bleeding and screaming, I will take my life into my own hands.

I will get to know myself. I will heal.
I will live. I will be safe, happy and healthy. I will love and let myself be loved. And I will suffer. I will bleed and cry and scream and thrash.

But I will be ME. In all my glorious facets and colors.
No one will take that away from me.

I’ve found important first answers. And I will start to ask more questions now.

(d)row(n), ‘25.

It took me another three years, another stroke of luck and privilege and a hell lot of love and compassion - from others and from myself - to understand:

I am many things. One of them being neurodivergent. ONLY one of them.

It doesn’t define me completely.
It just needs a lot more attention than my other facets and colors.

And I honestly think, bringing a little more mindfulness into your life, is nothing only people in DBT therapy benefit from.

It’s the little things that make our lives more meaningful -
starting into the day, asking ourselves questions like:

What’s one thing I can do for myself today?
How can I make myself, my loved ones, my surroundings smile today?

And taking time at the end of every day for a little recap:

Write down 3 things you were grateful for today and why and ask yourself:
what’s one thing I look forward to doing/experiencing tomorrow?

Really experiencing life instead of mindlessly stumbling through our days.
You might wanna try it - and if you do, let me know.
I’m happy to share more resources with you <3

Lots of love - stay weird and wonderful!
Julie xx

dissolve, ‘25.