The battle with borders
Every human interaction leaves a trace. We leave behind a eulogy, unspoken opinions and hidden contradictions. Sometimes, these traces appear overt, like a spilled coffee stain on a white shirt—a undeniable mark of our presence. Other times, they are subtle, a
tingle of exposed nerves just below the surface, waiting for
the right
pressure to crack the facade. The walls we build, the stories we tell, the roles we audition for—they all leave their mark. They
whisper of who we are, giving a glimpse of the landscape within.
but they never tell the whole story. A therapist once told me, "You can build walls around you, a fortress to protect your heart,
but they can’
equally be the cage
that imprisons you. It’s a delicate balance.
I’m Jessica,
Jessica Matthews. They called me BPD, borderline,
like a poorly drawn line in the sand, a demarcation of what was safe and
·
safe no longer raised eyebrows,
condition. A label, a box:
borderline personality disorder. a journey.
Aaron reached out to a GP, eventually connecting with a crisis team.
Jessica’
“I Snell.
Jessica.
feeling like
I feel like those around
shared a
that
unhealthy coping mechanisms, and that I
_____
fuzzy, reality ____ ‘s
Jessica’s
in.
it all
my experiences,
I
painfully
reaching out to
to be the key to getting support.
void. Greensleeves.
sometimes
the
in and out of hospital
‘
I explained what I__Yo-J
journalis p>
having trouble with madness was a
§
misunderstood.
similar to other personality
her willingness to
I felt utterly
was a
on relea
where journal
suppor
I had
understanding the diagnosis
with
and
couldn’t
voices, a
to
defined.
that narrative
}
****WWW.
was Jessica. stigmatized.
Jessica
__
‘
tagged.
length of time
The experience
this.
Jessica
Diagnosis
been
Jennifer,
this
theria
’s
needed
$$
Injected
Kelle
,
,
***
,
,
,’
.
,.
***