I Took Shrooms and Saw My BPD

I did shrooms last weekend and saw my BPD. It manifested itself as teeth. Cartoon sabertooth fangs.  The outline a bit blurry, like a faded sun before dusk. 

I meditated , eyes closed, to Khruangbin, seeing triangular patterns swirling to the melodies. The fangs would appear and vanish at my peripheral. My mind’s way of conceptualizing the core beliefs that lurk the corners of my mind. That I’m not worthy of love, never good enough, not important etc. etc. You know the drill. Always there. Though now, here. A figment that should have been alarming,  but did not scare me in my psychedelic stupor. 

The trippy triangle patterns stole the show. Flickering to different colors like tiny frosted Christmas lights. Entranced by the visuals, I heard (or felt?) a message,  “This is you. ”.  And saw (or felt?) the different phases of recovery in my life - back when I quit taking uppers and started to care about my body enough to go to kickboxing and yoga classes, to quit smoking, to quit seeing bad people. Back when I cut off my best friends and experienced life for the first time independently (without a favorite person). The shroom gods  were basically showing me all the reasons why I should love myself, that I don’t appreciate myself enough for all that I’ve done. Far from an ego death.  I felt held and loved.  Accepted for who I am. Even with the “teeth”.

The doors of perception communicated to me that I’ve learned to live with my BPD  in such a way where the real me can coexist with the disordered “me”. After years of challenging my cognitive distortions and behavioral patterns, I’ve mined myself into the self-aware and tenacious person that I am today. I will never have a so-called “normal” life and I accept that. I can live with the setbacks of BPD. My disorder is like a wild animal that’s hounded me for decades. Only now I’ve tamed it enough to respect me as the one behind the wheel. 

I might have a splitting thought here and there about a loved one (or myself) every week. It’s irritating. Annoys me. Gives me a bad mood. But it’s manageable.  I let my BPD do its thing (in private via journaling, crying, talking to someone safe ) so that it’s processed and out of my system. My foundational sense of self is so pronounced that there is no way I will blindly follow those impulses that once ruled me. While they are experienced by me, they are not mine. They are the disorder.  And I don’t say that to  reject the beast that is BPD. I let it roam free, give it space to run its course -ultimately, it knows its place. 

While psychedelics aren’t for everyone, I enjoy their ability to offer me a new perspective from the habitual belief system I unconsciously follow everyday. After my trip I can envision a future where I’ve even transcended this current phase of recovery. It will no longer be thoughts of harming or hating myself when I make a mistake, but thoughts of “What could I have done differently?” “What do I need right now to feel better?”. I’ve made it to such great heights. What’s stopping me? BPD sure as hell isn’t.