Choking on Quiet BPD
- Bahamian Borderline
- 6 minutes ago
- 4 min read
I was watching the movie "The Whale" the other day (by Bahamian standards "the other day" could mean anywhere between 2 days ago and the time my working memory formed - but I mean 2-3 weeks ago). There was a scene where the main character was eating and he choked - properly choked whereas his airway was completely obstructed and he had no ability to breathe or talk or gasp for air. Now, because of his size he also wasn't able to get up and run around the house trying to get anyone's attention or even move in a position to save his own life. Luckily, the friend that was there noticed that he hadn't responded to her and looked back and realized he was choking and took action. The point I'm getting at is that having a completely obstructed airway/choking is a very quiet process. I remember taking my first aid and CPR training last September and them talking about this. If you're actually choking, calling 911 (at least here in The Bahamas) won't do you any good because you can't talk to state where you are, what's happening or what you need. Here, there is no tracker for them to use and determine your position to send help; if you're choking alone, here in The Bahamas, you're effectively dead.
What does this have to do with BPD? Quiet BPD is choking without a sound, hoping that someone in the room (provided you're in the room with someone) turns around and helps...saves your life. The pain, the intensity of BPD is the lack of oxygen flowing to your body and your brain. The cutting, the substance use, the suicide attempts - they're all your frantic attempts to dislodge the pain stuck in your throat, blocking healthy expression. And what are you choking on? Abandonment, trauma, loneliness, emptiness. The choking happens in such a quiet way that the person - only a few feet away from you, the person next to you, the person separated from you by only a wall, a sheet, by only the inability of skin to meld into each other - may not hear you.
So, no dig on my therapist - I think she's an amazing therapist. I had this interaction with her where I'm voicing my discomfort and trying to explain the facets of my depression and her question to me was "are you showering?" Pretty good question actually. In most cases when you're severely depressed you stop "taking care of yourself" and it becomes hard to bathe, to clean, to eat etc. Her rationale being that at least you're taking care of yourself so it means that you're okay. And the conversation continues. I had my first suicidal thought (in a while) in April and they've been increasing since then. Two weeks ago I sat on the beach fantasizing about driving over the ledge. In the last 24-32 hours I can count the times that my eyes have been dry and have lost track of how many times I've cried out how "tired" I am and thought how badly I want to end it. But because I've showered - I'm not a concern.
Choking for me is just like that. Everyone is listening for the sound, looking to see if I'm incoherently screaming around the room, looking for help. They're looking to see if I'm drinking or getting drunk, smoking so much that I accomplish nothing, not taking a shower, not completing my tasks, not cleaning my house. But I'm quietly choking in my clean house, with my published book on the coffee table, with clean sheets on my bed, the marketing research pulled up on my browser and plans for the official book launch in the works - but losing consciousness as I doubt that I'll live to see it. Quiet BPD doesn't make the noise that we assume it does. Yet we treat it as though it does because it helps us - the outsider. It gives you a sign, it gives you a list, it gives you something concrete. But for us, the only thing concrete is that thing you can't see, that's killing me quietly.
There was another part of the movie that struck me. Something happened and a guy was outside at the door and he let the young man in and told the guy to get his phone so he could call his friend for help. The young man was about to leave and he asked him to stay because he didn't know what would happen in the next few moments. Afterwards when he finds out his pressure and his condition he knows he's about to die in the next few days and he goes on a binge and eats every unhealthy thing he could get his hands on. He also refused to go to the hospital so that he just let death take him. It was the dual nature of wanting help to live but also being in so much pain that you want to speed up death.
I'm choking and I want help. I want friends, I want my ex to care about me again - enough to be in my life, I want people who WANT me and not just need me, I want to be seen, to be invited and to be loved.
But I also don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to fight to be "normal" for the rest of my life, I don't want to have to convince people that I'm choking, that I'm dying, that I'm in pain. Just as much as I want help, I just want it to be over. Both of those things exist simultaneously, the same way you can be strong and need help or have boundaries and still be generous.
As I prepare to clean again for the night and cry at how alone I am, stew on that. Your thoughts are welcome in the comments.
Also...buy the damn book!
love,
Dat Bahamian Borderline
IG: bahamian_borderline
Site: www.navigatingbpd.com
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