What gives meaning to a BPD life?

I watched with awe this evening as Barack Obama was elected president. It was a moving, historic, transcendant, uplifting moment that captured the hope of millions and the need for a new direction in America.

I felt good watching the various speeches and events of the evening, happy that I voted absentee so that I could be a part of history.

Then, BPD stepped in. At first, it was a selfish rage over what the hell I want out of life. As I’ve written in other posts I HATE THE FACT THAT I’M MEDIOCRE. More to the point, imagine the momentous and truly divine feeling of being elected President. It is an honor only 44 human beings have ever had – an honor unlike no other in the USA. Obviously Obama worked hard and long for this amazing achievement, and no doubt his life will be changed forever. His life now has a deep meaning as a leader of a democratic nation. He has immense power, responsibilities, and plans. He has a great family and supportive group of people around him. All smiles and happiness.

For a moment I thought, you know, why don’t you get involved with politics so you can experience the same? Why don’t you quit living in Costa Rica, return to the USA, and do something meaningful, or something that would make you feel whole? Why not do something like running for President so that your life will not only have purpose, but be remembered by millions for years to come?

And then, I started seeing stars in my eyes. Reality check…My blood sugar was going low after I changed my insulin pump inset to a new location. Instead of being able to relax and wind-down for the night, I had to prick myself in the arm, draw blood, and then suck down some juice to get sugar in my system. How shitty is that?

I had a BPD mini-rage moment where I pounded my bed and asked out loud: “Is THIS what my life is about? Diabetes and Borderline Personality Disorder? Feeling like crap all the time, sometimes not wanting to leave my bed, living alone and feeling depressed?

Is this even a life worth living? I hardly think so.

If I was President elect, that would be a life worth living. That would be a life that has purpose.

BPD and diabetes HAS NO PURPOSE, and neither does mediocrity. I’m smart but not smart enough; determined but not determined enough; passionate but not passionate enough… the list goes on; and it all piles up to nothing more than frustration and self degredation.

How lucky Barack Obama is. How I wish I had that path before me.

Instead quite the opposite: mental illness and physical illness that precludes me from military service and most likely public office as well. When medical records are released in major campaigns, who would want to vote for a Borderline Psycho?

Finally, is all this suffering, loneliness, and anger what my life is about? NOBODY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT MENTAL ILLNESS OR DIABETES. Nobody cares that I feel the way I do, or that I hurt so much. Hell, my own family can hardly utter the words “mental illness”, instead my parents just say “How are your meds?”.

Wait you say, my doctor cares about me…my psychiatrist is helpful. TRUE – but don’t forget they’re doing that FOR MONEY.

Yep, they’re pimping themselves out for cash. If they were truly your friends, they’d do it for free.

But, since Borderlines mostly don’t have good friends, we succumb to the mental health professionals we deal with much like a John goes out trowling for hookers: since he can’t get the sex he wants for Free, he instead must pay for it. It’s pathethic, don’t you think?

And that’s the conclusion of today’s post. Hat’s off to Obama for living the dream many of us wish we could experience, and yet again re-enforcing the fact that my life is pretty much pointless, miserable, lonely, without purpose, and really not that special or noteworthy.