5/19 - 5/22
You Take Care of You!
I’m thrilled you’re here, but given its nature and purpose, Borderline Babe contains mentions of mental illness, disordered eating, self-harm, suicidal ideation, strong language, and other adult themes. If you find the material upsetting, please don’t read further. You can always come back another time - I’ll still be here for you!
What is the Borderline Diary?
It’s a scrapbook of life as it happens, my life told through honest and open thoughts, emotions, words, and pictures. Too honest? Too open? I don’t think so. Much as we might talk about ending stigmas - whether around illness, appearance, disability, or anything that makes us insecure - I believe we still hide parts of ourselves in the shadows. I think if we shared more openly, we’d all see ourselves in others, and we’d all feel less alone.
Each diary post includes my real-time, “hot off the presses” diary entries, as well as my reflections on the key emotions and themes in those entries. This mirrors an important element in my recovery: the raw, unfiltered emotions - positive and negative - I experience, coupled with the thoughtful, healthy processing of those emotions. My initial emotions will often sound extreme, but that’s the BPD talking. The Borderline Diaries put those emotions out there, because we can’t understand what we can’t see. The Borderline Diaries are me talking - sorting through my emotions to get to my healthy feelings, my healthy relationships, and my healthy life.
A Message From Floor 4B
Entry Dates
Tuesday, May 19, 2026 and Friday, May 22, 2026
Friday, May 22, 2026
A Note To The Reader
Please excuse the pause in our regular programming. I always tell you to “take care of you!” - But sometimes, I forget to practice what I preach and take care of myself. I feel very proud of myself as I tell you that this past week, I was able to recognize my mental health and physical safety were in danger, and seek out the medical help I needed. I am writing this note to you on Friday, May 22, 2026. I was discharged from the hospital only a few hours ago. I am touching base with you today to assure you that I am okay, and I have renewed my recovery promise. I also want to assure you that Borderline Babe will now resume its regular release schedule, with diary entries being posted every Saturday. However, there will be some slight formatting changes instilled to protect my own health, as well as yours, as it will only be harmful for both of us to relive too many painful traumas.
I’m sure you can imagine that I did not end up in the hospital by some random chance. My 72-hour hospital stay was the epicenter of a months-long earthquake of my mind. Again, this will be no surprise to you, as you have been my trusted and friendly companion in life since I started writing you, in June 2025. When I started writing you, I was in the midst of a manic summer, where my mental state and behaviors were largely influenced by my new onset of bipolar-like symptoms. When fall arrived, my mind cooled with the change of season. While I responded well to my mood stabilizing medication, and my mind quieted, I seemed to trade one set of problems for another as my borderline symptoms, depressive symptoms, disordered eating, and suicidality all dramatically spiked. Overall, the past 8-9 months have been a very difficult period for me. What originally began as a few slip-ups eventually turned into a full relapse of my illness, as I continuously chose to engage in destructive habits, and refused to process my emotions in a healthy way.
Now, here we are, and as I said to you before, I am okay. I am safe, I am well, and I am once again fully committed to my recovery. Sometimes it takes a breakdown to build yourself back up. When we get to my May 2026 diary entries, I will tell you more about my hospital stay. However, I believe it is important for you to know now that I am doing a “booster” within my therapy program at this time, where I will once again receive weekly support (vs monthly). I truly believe this is not a sign of regression, but rather progress in my recovery.
One last little interjection of hope before I leave you to read a message I wrote to you from floor 4B…
The following writing is from an excerpt from the safety plan I made for myself before leaving the hospital…
…
The one thing that is most important to me and worth living for is:
I love myself even though it is hard sometimes. I deserve to keep myself safe, I deserve to be alive. I need to stay alive for my family, friends, and community. I plan on living a long life that supports my recovery. I want to help and care for other people, I believe that is my purpose in this life. I hope that one day I will be in a healthy relationship. I hope that one day I will be a mom, I hope that one day I will have a baby.
No matter what happens in my life, I promise I will not kill myself. I promise I will always keep myself safe and protect my life.
…
And now I will leave you with a little sneak peak at the most recent of the many little stories that make up my life. Next week, we will return to my November 2025 diary entries, and continue our walk down memory lane… But until then, here is a message from me to you, written with love…
Yes, here is a message - with love - from floor 4B…
…
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
Today is Tuesday, May 19, 2026. I have committed myself to the psych ward voluntarily. I arrived at the ER at 12 pm today for an evaluation. Dad brought me. I’m not sure exactly what time it is now, but I know it is before 11 pm because the TV is still on. I don’t know exactly how long I am going to be here - as long as it takes for me to feel safe on my own. I’m hoping I will stabilize within a few days.
How I ended up here is a long story - one I will keep close to my heart for the rest of time… And really, the details of how I ended up here don’t matter. All that matters is that I am here, and that is a positive sign for my long-term recovery… I saw the signs, and I was able to get myself the help I needed… I’m sure you saw it coming - starting back in the fall I told you… A general lack of emotional processing, increased depression and suicidality… A series of bad decisions and ignoring my recovery commitments… And here we are now…
This is not the end though, this is only the beginning - they have that quote framed on the wall here, which I think is very fitting… Right by a poster showing yoga poses that help relieve constipation - and I’m just like, “Damn!” - I guess shame doesn’t exist on floor 4B… Which is honestly refreshing…
Anyways… This is not the end for me, this is only the beginning - that’s also what my safety companion in the ER said to me. She told me, “You stay on this earth until God says it’s your time. Go on baby, cry, cry! This time tomorrow, you could be laughing! - But now, let out any negative emotion you need to, and just know, God’s not done with you yet. God has a plan for you. You are beautiful, you are special, you are a star! God is giving you this challenge for a reason, he would never give you something you can’t handle. God has amazing things planned for you, and someday soon, you will look back and finally understand why…
We had the same name, my ER safety companion and I. That made her smile real wide and holler - a joyful surprise. She asked me if I knew the meaning of our shared name, and I told her, “Truth.” And when she asked if I knew the story of Veronica in the bible, I answered that right too, “She wiped the face of Jesus on his way to the cross…”
…
I’m getting tired now, and I might try to sleep. But there are many things I don’t want to forget, so let me tell you in written polaroids rather than essays:
…
We walked the ER floor in circles. She showed me a beautiful floral mural. White flowers blooming in a lilac sky… Lilacs and virginity. It made me feel at peace.
…
“Here’s some water,” she smiled at me, “It’s gluten free.”
…
Last night Mom came to me. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” I told her. My hair was in a French braid, and my periwinkle PJs fluttered off my body like a willow bending in the breeze. As I lay in my bed crying, thinking I’d never felt uglier in all of my life, Mom told me, “You are so beautiful,” shaking her head at me in a raw moment of awe and disbelief. I did not speak my next thought aloud, but still, I felt it deeply, “If I am so beautiful, then why do the boys I love always leave?”
…
Last night driving recklessly… Into the other lane… While that song I love by Ela and Morgan played… “I Can’t Love You Anymore” … Yeah, I’ve been listening to that one on repeat for the past couple of days…
“... I hate that your kiss left a burn on my lips
Oh baby, how do I tell my heart it ain't yours
When I've said it before?
I can't love you anymore…”
…
(I Can’t Love You Anymore, by Ela Langley and Morgan Wallen)
… And just like that - driving, swerving, crying - I passed…
My brown eyed boy,
My brown eyed boy.
I hope he didn’t see me.
…
Last night.
“There’s my special buddy!”
“Here I am!” - And I hugged him, and told him I loved him… And he stayed with me for an hour or more just talking… About lust and love, and about how boys are so dumb…. About how I come on too strong, and about how men lose respect… About tickle scratches, and heartbreak, and a deep nail color called, “Butter Me Up Red.”
I could look at you all day, I could touch you all night…
…
A deacon walked by me in the ER today. Then he paused and came back. He talked to me, he talked to Dad. He asked why I was there, because on the outside I looked perfectly fine. I told him my illness was of the mind… He told me that was the most painful kind.
Then he told me he leads a prayer service regularly at another hospital’s psych ward. He told me all the encounters he’s had there have taught him that those of us who struggle with mental illness are some of God’s most intelligent, loving, and faithful creatures… God’s chosen ones.
He asked me if there was anything he could do for me, or any guidance he could give… I tried to respond, but I was crying, so he couldn’t hear me… So he leaned in close as I whispered, “I’ve made some very bad decisions recently,” through my tears.
“Ahhh,” he replied, “Well the good thing about that is you are not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last!” Then he told me, “The most important thing when it comes to bad decisions, is you have to forgive yourself. God already forgives you, God always forgives you, and God always loves you.”
Finally, he prayed over me while I crossed myself and Dad cried. I cried too as the deacon told me, “You will be in my prayers, Veronica.”
Thinking of you…
…
When I got to the psych ward, they did a skin check. The first time I went to the hospital (in April 2022), I cried the entire time. “One, two, three!” - The nurses counted down for me to strip and pull my panties down and shake them out. “Okay, that’s it honey, you can pull them up! - Good job, good job!” One nurse said, gently coaching me, as I ate my tears and choked on my snot.
Tonight was different. When I was admitted to the psych ward, I stripped freely and without shame… And I was not wearing any underwear when I arrived.
You make me so wet…
…
I told them my history.
April 1st, 2022. A five day residential psych stay.
April 8th, 2025. A 24 hour ER hold.
And now today.
I told them the causes of my crises have been the same each time: Breakups, rejections, big life transitions, fear of failure, and other interpersonal stressors.
I also told them about the onset of new symptoms and the possible bipolar… I told them about the sexual promiscuity, and about how low it’s brought me.
I will always regret…
…
“You’re so young, so you don’t know… But let me just tell you, you aren’t the first, and you certainly won’t be the last… Life is colorful…”
He made life colorful.
“Matters of the heart and love are complicated and messy…”
I should have known. He said from the very beginning… No feelings.
…
“Are you suicidal at this time?”
“... Yes… Now it’s more passive though…”
“Oh! - You know the lingo…”
Damn straight.
…
Mom and Dad picked me up this morning. I tried to go, but I couldn’t… And then I was afraid to drive home. I hid in Studio B until they came. Then I rushed out, trying to avoid others, but smiling cheerfully at those I passed by… Those who would never know the pain I felt inside… Because on the outside, I look perfectly fine - young and beautiful, I am told… But I am hurt on the inside… The very worst kind of hurt… I was born with my brain on fire…
… And I swear, this morning, as I raced down the stairs, I could feel his eyes… And I know he’s read my lines… And I know they’ve inflated his pride…
I don’t know how that makes me feel…
I just know it’s made me love you less… Because I am hurt by the fact that you and your boy are trying to crack me like a code and treat my love and art like some sort of game, or a puzzle to be solved…
So let’s stop playing games now, and speak freely… After all, there’s not much to say… I love you, but I am letting go of you. I hope you are always happy. You are one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and you deserve great things… But I am not one of them.
And you know exactly who you are…
My brown eyed boy,
My brown eyed boy.
…
“My roommate is trying to kill herself!”
… Who? … Me?? …
“And she drank all my fucking raspberry tea…”
Did not! - Do you know how much sugar is in that? … Eating clean in a psych ward is proving to be difficult, which was to be expected… I have a nutrition consult in the morning, but so far, all I’ve had since I got to the ER at noon is an apple, a banana, and an orange… It’s close to midnight now…
I know because my nurse just told me while doing her 15 minute rounds. She also checked in and asked me if I was having any thoughts of hurting myself or others, seeing things or hearing voices, and when my last bowel movement was - what did I say? No shame on floor 4B… Refreshing.
Anyways… I’m hungry. I’m worried about too many carbs and too much sugar from all of the fruit… But I know I have to eat…
…
Update on the raspberry tea situation: I am not the “she” who drank all of it… That was Glinda. We don’t like Glinda on floor 4B, Ginda’s a bitch.
… And that isn’t mean to say, because as far as I can tell, Glinda doesn’t exist…
…
“There’s a ghost in our room!”
“What’s her name?”
“Veronica.”
“Just like me!”
“Yeah… She’s really pretty.”
“Do you see her too?”
No, but I say that I do.
After all, we’re in this together.
…
Dad took me to the ER alone. Mom had to go to work, but she texted me that she loves me. I texted her back, and told her that I love her too, and that I’m sorry, and that I promise I’m going to get better. Mom responded, “I know you will!”
…
“You went to work yesterday, you could probably go to work tomorrow… You are so mature, and aware, and insightful. You know how to take care of yourself, and what you have to do in order to recover… But then there are those moments in between… And those moments plus your impulsivity is when we worry for your safety… And if I’m hearing you right, that’s when you worry for yourself as well, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
…
I wasn’t supposed to have my phone because, “Sometimes the outside world is a contributing factor to why you’re here.” I wasn’t supposed to have my phone, but I needed to give Dad a number to contact for me… I wasn’t supposed to have my phone, but I did, and that’s when I saw it…
And seeing it finally pushed me to sign my rights away and commit myself like they were recommending… Seeing it forced me to recognize I needed time to stabilize, and that locking myself away, on floor 4B was what I needed to do in order to keep myself safe.
I will be going away briefly and unable to send or receive messages… All communication will cease within 30 minutes… No contact…
…
He was screaming at the nurses to, “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” when I first came in. Then he settled down, and when we passed each other in the hallway, he stopped talking to himself, and asked me for my name, age, and where I went to high school. I answered him gladly, thinking, “Rapid fire, I like it!” - Then I asked him the same. “That’s cool!” - I said when he told me his name. Then we fist bumped and parted ways.
…
I told her I got into nursing school, and she was so excited for me. Then she reassured me that many nurses come to the psych ward not only as providers, but as patients… “I think it’s because we’re sensitive, and we care so deeply. We put others above ourselves.”
I will protect you always. I will protect you before I protect myself.
…
“So why are you here?”
“Boyfriend break up with you or something?”
That made me laugh, “Yeah, something like that…”
“How could you tell? - Is it written all over my face?” I asked teasingly.
Then it was her turn to laugh.
“Yeah,” she told me plainly.
Then she asked, “Is he trying to contact you?”
“Not anymore.”
“Oh.”
“... Did he cheat?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Was he mean?”
“Nope.”
“Then why - ?”
“It just wasn’t a healthy relationship… For either of us…”
“Oh.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he misses you?”
“... I don’t know… I don’t think so, not really… Not the way I miss him…”
I will miss you, but this is for the best…
…
My final messages to a few close friends:
“Thank you for your support”
“I love you”
“I’ll message when I’m outta the slammer :)”
…
I really need sleep now. It must be 1 am… One last polaroid from my 1st day though… I say my 1st day, because today is not the end, today is only the beginning…
I hugged Dad goodbye as I signed my rights away.
I hugged Dad goodbye as they took me away.
I hugged Dad goodbye, and we both cried.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too… Tell Mom I love her too… And that I’m sorry.”
“Oh hun.”
“I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through… I am so sorry for your pain…”
“But I am not sorry you are mine.”
