and you know where I live
I have been trying to embrace some new discoveries about my personality and the core of my being for the last few months. As a result, I have felt more comfortable in my skin than I have in a long time.
For the time being, I have given up on seeking treatment for my eating disorder. The cost is too high and not a single treatment center that I have called out of dozens is willing to work with my insurance or my poverty. All I can hope for at this point is that my restriction stays stable, and I can achieve my low weight. That may sound spineless, but the fact is that the “treatment” industry is profit driven, and that includes addiction treatment as well as eating disorders. Facilities and insurance companies don’t care if you die. They care if you can pay.
I have never anticipated living this long. I was supposed to be dead two times over already, with last year being my most serious suicide attempt to date. I am angry I was revived. According to the hospital documentation, they resuscitated and pumped chemicals in my despicable corpse for 34 minutes. Why not just let a tortured soul leave? Why not dare to utter the words: leave her in peace. As far as I can tell, I cause suffering wherever I go, and I haunt those I leave behind.
My actual personality disorder prevents me from feeling guilt about my behaviors. I was misdiagnosed for years. I am not remorseful for what I do. I am only miserable about the repercussions the conduct causes, and if that is too disagreeable, I disappear.
However, recognizing my lack of true empathy and my inability to learn from past mistakes has given me power over the outcome of my life. I am finally free of the confusion that once dogged my thoughts about why I was not like other people. In fact, I believe my lack of emotional entanglements makes me superior to other people. My ability to feel lacks any depth which is why I can flip from one superficial emotion to another with such ease. I can move on with a momentary decision. My rage and desire for revenge does tend to linger but that is once again another part of my nature.
While I do lack empathy, even with those closest to me, I do have the capacity to care for an extremely limited number of people. Even upon that admission, I am unsure if those people should consider themselves blessed or cursed.
All these acknowledgments might lead one to believe I should seek therapy. However, there are problems to consider when seeking therapy for ASPD. First, therapy of the caliber I would need to unravel the depth of these issues is expensive. Secondly, my personality and these so-called “destructive” traits are born partially out of trauma. I adapted to adverse conditions throughout my entire life and severing emotional depth has saved me.
In truth, I feel too extraordinary about my survival skills to want to change them. There is a dark side to this personality though. I am constantly bored. Despite school, a constant flow of books to read, branching out to socialize for the first time in years, and never-ending attempts to alter my reality, I am plagued by boredom. It leads me down the shady path of wishing I were no longer here more than any other state of mind.
But I linger. I persist for some reason more deranged than even I can comprehend. Perhaps I will understand the survival instinct one day.