31 Days of BPD
There are quite a few years that were definitely not fun.
At 14 I was panicked everyday.
At 15 I was depressed.
At 16 I was probably in the deepest depression I’ve ever endured.
At 17 I stopped eating.
I could go on. I think it’s fair to say that my teenage years were the worst. They were awful. Everyone hates the idea of turning 20 when they’re 19, because it sounds a lot more grown up – but for me I loved it. I loved the idea that I was no longer in a period of time that I considered so traumatic.
But if I had to chose one stand-out year that I’d change, it would be 13. Not because it’s the beginning of the dreaded teenage-dom, but because that’s when it happened.
On May 1st this year, it will be 10 years since everything changed. I was a normal 13 year old who was then ‘sexually abused’ I guess you’d call it, by an uncle of mine. I don’t like calling it that though. 10 years on I still don’t think it feels like it should be called something that bad.
Anyway. That’s the year. That’s when it all started. And that’s the year I’d change.
End of post.