DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

Putting Down Roots After Chest tight. Can’t breathe. Eyes blurring. I catch myself on the counter, clutching a pale yellow envelope in the other hand. It crumples slightly under the pressure of my fingers. I focus in on the words. His name. My name. I don’t have a pseudonym for him yet. I wonder what it’ll be. We’ll see I guess. The letters slowly straighten out as I focus on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Taste, touch, smell, hear, see. I walk myself through my grounding exercise. The triggers are so much more easily managed now. Except when the pain is bad. Except when I’m doing what has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Immigration and Naturalization Service. The Netherlands. The first step towards residency. The first step towards really escaping the life I was born into. The first step towards not remaining a statistic. But also…the first step towards losing my home. Shitty as it was, America was the only home I ever knew. And now? I’m so in between. A foot in both worlds, but no roots. I feel my stomach flip. Can I do this? I text him. I tell him. Panic attack. He says he can call. Just him saying he can call stops the attack. I’m not alone. I’m not abandoned. I’m safe. I’m warm. I’m fed. I’m comfortable. I’m loved. And then I remember that he’s not the only one I can call anymore. I literally have dozens of people now, a text or phone call away, that can walk me through any trigger, any time, 24/7. I have a tribe. Scattered though our members may be, the tribe is full, overflowing. I have my people. I can do this. I wait in line. Turns out to be the wrong line. I wait in another line. The guy has to take a phone call before he can help me. I wait. And wait. And wait. My heart thuds rapidly. I tense. Fight or flight. I want to run. “Mevrouw?” I look up. He says something else in Dutch. “Sorry. I’m American.” He smiles, “Oh, no problem. What do you need?” “I need to….,” I look down at my hand. The envelope. “I need to mail this. Do you have a way to track it?” “You want to register it?” I nod. “Yes, dankjewel.” He puts the envelope on a scale. Eight euro ninety-five. I scan the card. The screen glows green. I don’t know the Dutch word, but I assume it’s something like “approved” flashes across the screen. He hands me two receipts. I quickly text him, the one whose name is on the envelope too, my sponsor now. “Done.” My phone vibrates nearly instantly. “Good. Get chips and beer. We’re celebrating.” My hands shake as I stash the receipts inside my passport. Proof. I can stay now. I grab the food and booze and bike home, feeling…sleepy mostly. I drag myself up the three flights of stairs to the tiny loft, dorm-style living, I share with him. I put the beers in the fridge, the chips on the desk, and snap a photo of my passport and receipts. Decent pic I guess. Needs a background. Oh, the hat. Dutch pride, right? Wait, the rocks and seashells from the North Sea. And here’s the cat for Moon. And the puzzle from the Efteling. And Robert. Mustn’t forget my giraffe. Oh, the hat. I snap more pics as I keep adding new things. That last pic. Hmm. Not bad. It’s like…roots, right? These are my roots. Each item represents a day I want to remember here. And I’ve got all of these things. Little things, right? I travel light. Always running from city to city, state to state, now country to country? Am I done running? Can I really put down permanent roots here? Yeah. I mean, probably. So far, so good. Do I have to decide yet? Nah, not really. But it works for now. And as long as it works, I’m staying. And even if my sponsor is one day no longer my sponsor, I have options. I can stay and keep putting down roots. Or I can go. But I don’t have to decide yet. I got time. Till then, I can put down some roots.

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

Nonsuicide Note: My Two-Year Journey from Suicide Attempt to Peace and Adventure (TRIGGER WARNING) “You ruin everything.” “Rape victim.” “Cheater.” “You’re a bad person.” “You got what you deserved, bitch.” “Get your ass in the house.” “He’s not coming.” “Redheads are so much prettier.” “Green eyes are better.” “You’re so pale.” “What do you mean you’re not Christian?” “White trash.” “You should smile more.” “Why can’t you just be normal?” I have been running from these words and so many more all my life. When I had a mental breakdown on Memorial Day 2017, I began a journey. One that is still happening every day. But if you’ve subscribed to my blog and read my previous posts, you know that story already. Today, two years later, I’m healing. I’ve found peace. I’ve found adventure. Not 100% of the time. Maybe 75% of the time. But that’s better than none of the time. Steady improvement, right? And now, instead of surrounding myself with people that tore me down emotionally, mentally, sexually, and physically, I find people who build me up. Wrap up in their words like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. Scrub the old words out of my mind and replace them with these new words. “You’re like a little kid.” “You’re sexy.” “You’re smart.” “You didn’t deserve to be hurt.” “They hurt you. They were wrong.” “You never hardened your heart to the world.” “You’re special.” “I love your smile.” “I love your body. Don’t change it.” “You have such a weird, individual style.” “When you walked into my life, the whole world lit up.” “Because I was lost, and you helped me.” “Thank you for teaching me to read.” “You’re the best teacher.” “You wanna play soccer with us?” “Thank you for helping me learn addition.” “Thank you for helping my kid learn.” “He loves your class.” “These kids love you.” “We love you, Ms. C.” “I love you, K.” “I love you, Biscuit.” “You’re a good person.” “You have a heart for people.” “You’re so genuine.” “You’re so brave.” “You really do love everyone, huh?” “Why are you hugging homeless people, you fucking hippie?” “You’re learning how to point out elephants without hurting people.” “Take care of yourself, Rafiki.” “People will hurt you, baby girl. Please be careful.” “You’re a pain in my ass. But you’re worth it, baby girl.” “You’re crazy. But you’re worth it, baby girl.” “You’re worth it, babe.” “You’re worth it, baby.” “You’re worth it, mommy.” “You’re worth it, My Angel.” “You’re worth it, baby girl.” “You’re worth it, K.” “You’re worth it, sis.” “You’re worth it, Biscuit.” “You’re worth it.” Yeah, not sure why my girl Amy Schumer had a problem with being called “brave”. That was fucking brave. If you don’t feel absolutely perfect at all times, showing parts of your body you’re self-conscious about is so damn hard. And she is self-conscious about them, or she would have realized that’s what they meant when they called her brave. No airbrushing. No fixing anything anyone else could perceive as a flaw. Just being proud of who you are, being happy with your flaws. I’m definitely not there yet. I wore this oversized tank so that I could cover up or crop any part of my body I wasn’t happy with. I didn’t wear it because I wouldn’t pose naked. I wore it because I wasn’t happy enough with my body to pose naked. Will I feel different after my tummy tuck? Will I suddenly want to show off my new body, one that’s more like me at 18 than ever before? Shit, I’m already picking out bikinis… But for now, I’ll just crop it to the important parts and not focus on what I can’t change. The important parts (sorry, guys) are not my boobs. Or my eyes. They’re my arms and legs. They’re the words written on them. The ones in red are things I need to forgive. But I haven’t forgotten them. And the ones in blue I never should forget. They’re too important to my mental health and wellbeing. I need a new mantra. Love…is bullshit. Love has been made out to be this emotion that people have for you. Empty words and chivalrous actions in an attempt to get laid on the reg is not love. Lots of people love me through this. Because love is something you do. It’s not an emotion. It’s an action. And I need to love better. The action, not the emotion. I need to love my friends, my kid, and most importantly, myself better. So that’s the goal, right? Be a better human being. My purpose in life, if I do nothing else, or if I do something way different from what I planned on doing, is to follow my rules to the best of my ability. Be nice. Be honest. And if I can’t be nice, then I need to be as minimally aggressive as possible in order to still be honest. And honestly, my life is the most important to me. I need to be selfish right now. If I’m not, I am putting my mental health at risk. It is what it is. I’ll do my best to minimize and improve. But this is where I’m at. It’s like Pink says. I’m not broken. I’m just bent. I can learn to love again. Maybe not right now. I just need to fix some shit right now. But like….one day. When I’m ready. For right now, I’m just going to be happy loving myself. And my kid. And my friends. And really…. And really that’s what’s most important, right? More important than what other people believe about me, say about me….is what I believe and say about myself. “Hi, I’m Biscuit.” “I’m a hippie.” “I love music, especially Stevie Nicks and Halsey.” “I’m a storyteller.” “I’m a pothead.” “I’m poly and pan.” “I’m a gamer.” “I’m a business owner.” “I want to be nice and be honest. And I want people in my life to be the same way. And I want us to help each other learn.” “I love people very easily. Trusting is hard, but that’s because some bad shit happened to me, and I’m still getting over it.” “I’m a good friend.” “I’m a good mom.” “I’m a good person.” “I want peace and adventure.” “I’m a pain in the ass, but I’m worth it.” “And I’m on a Pink kick today, so here’s another song.” “And I want to live. Like, a long time. So Ima do that now.”

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

fuckkyliejenner: when you’re dissociating and someone asks you a question Man, I can’t tell you how many times my friends and family have said this is my response when they talk to me and I’m dissociated…

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

Southern Wisdom to Tumblr Porn Problem Hey Tumblr, simple solution to your porn problem: tell people if they don’t want to see porn, don’t subscribe to #porn.



DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

Southern Wisdom on Snowy Weather It’s snowing here in Indy! Just a few inches, and I was asking Gravy about how Yanks get out in the snow on days like this. And he says, “Well, when it’s just a few inches like this and not icy, you’re fine. But when it’s several feet – .” I interrupt him, thinking I know what he’s going to say, nodding, “You keep your ass inside.” He looks at me like I’m a lunatic and says, “No, Krys. People have to live their lives. You get out there and shovel it and then drive to work.” WTF is wrong with you Yankees?? The only idiots out in the snow in Texas are the three guys in a 4x4 truck helping out other idiots in 4x4 trucks by pulling them out of ditches when they fly off the roads! YOU KEEP YOUR ASS INSIDE.

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

Memories in Music Part 1 Below is a piece of a BPD episode handled via Skype and in a mostly (?) healthy way. This is a conversation between me and Gypsy. Pretty one-sided, as you’ll see.





shit, I’m listening to a song makes me so sad. It’s like a reverse of us. Like something you were trying your hardest to tell me at the time. Tell me everything’s going to be okay, Gypsy. Remind me how happy I am now. Remind me things are better.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvbQK3e8kso God I fucked up. I know it’s better now, but sometimes I still get so sad and mad at myself. shit shit shit shit please wake up Gypsy I need a friend 9:03 AM Missed Call okay, okay I can do this I can work through this. I’m strong. It’s just guilt. I can channel that. I’m so sorry, Gypsy. I gotta make myself angry right now so I can get through this and focus. I gotta listen to songs that remind me of my anger over things. I know how to handle anger. I can’t handle sad. I’m sorry I’m going to send this to you. Please understand. It’s just a song that reminds me not everything was my fault when I start feeling it is. I’ll get angry, and then I’ll get over it. And then we’ll have a great afternoon of gaming. Please don’t be mad. Please know I’m sending this because i need to deal with shit that has nothing to do with anything that’s your fault. I don’t ever want to hurt you on purpose again. I just need to stop the bad thoughts https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAfAud_M_mg Listen to it again for me, and just know it comes from that sadness and not real anger. Just sadness at everything we lost, like our sweet boy God I can still picture him. I’m so sorry Gypsy I tried so hard neither of us could see I knew it too. I knew from that night on acid, our first time, that things were not going to work out. And I still kept pushing us. I kept praying I was wrong I saw it. I saw it though I saw that both of us were just too fucking broken and not dealing with our shit back then and we were just going to fuck up and fuck each other over over and over and over god I need to hear your voice that night on acid I saw it during one of my trippy I’m not really here, I’m doing the cosmic journey shit. I even started like laughing and crying. I don’t know if you remember. I said something like, we were so close and we missed it we were so close at happiness together and we fucked it up but it’s like this here’s my part in it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdYFuCp3m9k I’m a serial dater. Always looking for safety and security in the arms of another man because I fucked up things with the one I’m with. That’ my part god i can’t stop shaking. And then I finally get a piece of things right with that new person, and then fuck it up again because I’m not honest and I hide my feelings. I start getting to this point with someone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SA7AIQw-7Ms and I get scared and fuck it up But you lied too, Gypsy. Things were bad with some of our relationship, and you didn’t come clean with it. You needed me to do things for you that I wasn’t doing, and I needed you to SAY them, out loud, with words, because I don’t get subtlety. I don’t get nonverbal. I needed you to be verbal because that’s how I communicate. You weren’t speaking my language, and you refused to learn it so I could understand you, and you got so angry at me for not understanding. You put me in situations I had no way out of. You got mad at me for not understanding. And I tried so hard to understand. And I was never good enough. Ever. And I got so scared when you got mad. And it turned us into this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RyInjfgNc4 And then it turned us into this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uelHwf8o7_U [Gypsy’s dot turns green] Oh god you’re on Thank god Oh my god I’m spiraling. Catch me Gypsy. Talk to me please call me

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

bpd-anz: looking at your last fp’s instagram, remembering your life spiraled out of control, you have no job, dont go to school, still live in your parents house, have given up on any of your aspirations and theyve gotten off of their feet, moved on from you, and made a name for themself Having the reverse of this with my ex whom I hurt deeply. Sorry you’re in pain, Gypsy.

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit

“People like to stir shit; just don’t lick the spoon. - Woohoo

DISCLAIMER: BPD Rants Below Hi everyone, I just wanted to clarify something. This is my blog post for sharing how I felt at certain times about certain situations. As someone with BPD, how I feel may not reflect reality. Also a concern with people with BPD is that memory formation may not be complete or accurate. My memories may be altered due to dissociation, past memories surfacing, or just the passage of time. All I can do is promise to be as true to what I remember as possible and how I felt at the time and clarify by adding in later realizations in future posts. Please understand that when I’m writing I’m letting out the feeling from that moment in time and it doesn’t always reflect how I feel after I’m out of the trigger/relapse or the actual events. Anyone mentioned in my memories or experiences is welcome to post anonymously on my blog about what they were feeling or differences in memories from mine. I only ask that you do so anonymously, either using the nickname I’ve given you in the blog (or one you prefer instead, as some of mine are purposely chosen based on my personal feelings towards you and may not accurately reflect who you are as a person) as not everyone in the story may be comfortable with their identities being made public. Remember, people are all dealing with their own lives, and their jobs and relationships could be affected negatively if their past actions are made light so long after the events. Thanks, BPD Biscuit