Twenty-one was the age I put everything at rest. It felt like a mess. I finally realized it was time I chose success. I went cold turkey. It was hard, it’s not something I suggest. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. When I got the chance to catch some z’s, the nightmares I would see. I would wake up from my own scream. Cold sweats down to my feet. I couldn’t believe how much I had lost; it was as though I had left my soul in the streets. It never helped me just made me 10 times crazy. Before I even picked up this evil thing, another symptom that comes with BPD is paranoia. I have this thing that I always thought about. The people out in the world are here to wish for my downfall. Ever since I was a kid, I always had to prove some. It felt like I was never enough, it was always I was doing too much. Twenty-one and I couldn’t enjoy the very first bar hop. I was fifteen yrs. old with a fake ID card. It was nothing new, but something I never got tired of. I know no one will ever understand why I act so impulsively, why am I always compulsive. I was glad I was able to see the way that I acted and the way people perceived me. It’s nothing normal but what is normal? All I wanted was a healthy mind and body. I asked myself please forgive me, I was left alone, no one could hear me. Excuse my language but it’s ****** up the way we raise these children. We become ****** up adults with ****** up mind sets. That our parents gave us. With no good role models to guide me I landed myself in an asylum. Stuck in an ongoing cycle, it was vicious. And that’s how I knew I have the power of resilience. To have a BPD mind it’s confusing I don’t even understand myself I know I can be obnoxious, if I don’t get my way, I throw tantrums I’m **** near 30 acting like I need a change of diapers. The anger that I display at very inappropriate times. One of the best years I loved is twenty-one; I officially started my journey of recovery and mental healing.