An Email to My Sister.

08/07/2025

[REDACTED] had a panic attack. I called [REDACTED]'s mother to come inside the room. She gave me her phone to talk to mom. I walked outside and I could still hear [REDACTED] sobbing. It's cold here. Cold enough that your teeth are chattering and the feeling in your hands disappears the second you walk outside.

I confessed some things to her, how I wasn't doing well, how me and [REDACTED] keep setting each other off but are still better off around each other , I told her I was lost and how the panic attack at the house was my first one in years. However since then I have been trying to push off that feeling since it stubbornly won't go away.

I have had too many to count since the initial one. Whatever steady ground I was gaining is gone now. I am stuck in a maze with everyone asking me directions to the nearest exit and all I can do is run straight into the walls and dead ends.

Our conversation was going really good until right at the end when I asked about [REDACTED'S SIBLING]. A lot of drama has happened here and I was worried about leaving them alone all week while they are grounded.

Mothers response was to cast all the responsibility on [REDACTED] and told me to come home myself and rest. I don't know how many times I have to reiterate that we are not doing well I haven't responded to her message hurt that her reply to admitting something vulnerable (feeling like I have to choose sides and I am betraying everyone.) and then turn around and basically say that yes Storm your picking sides and your hurting everyone deeply no matter what you do come home.

I am lost. I say that again because it is my only truth behind any of this. I am lost and unwell and I believe I am either better off dead or out of everyones hair.

I can't tell you what striving for peace is like. I surely as hell don't. I can't keep order even if the chaos is going to kill me and it will kill me.

For the past four years I keep hearing conflicting things. I am either the angel that everyone feels so sorry for that they ignore other people's issues or I am a manipulative monster that only has their own goal in mind. Mother is too willing to call me an activist and antichrist in the same breath.

I feel like I am either a subject of pity or a pillar of selfishness and it's driving me up the damn walls with imposter syndrome either way.

I read your message. The one about being sick, the puppies getting hernias and spiritualism.

Keep the lights low, drink ice water for nausea, hot water bottles where the pain is the worst, pressure points in the hand to relieve head tension.

I understand the sickness. I haven't stopped being sick in months, I still vomit frequently despite not smoking much at all last week, a part of me hopes I'm terminal just so I would know where to go and have a direction.

My pills finished quicker than I thought and now I have been stuck with a period for the last week, I wake up covered in blood and remember

There is this need to get forcefully helped for someone to come down and save you, lead you, guide you and encourage you to get help. I always thought it was dumb and or weird to want that despite longing it for myself then I realized I just wanted a friend and now as I sit here I find I have very few people to turn to.

Despite our jokes for years I am nearly certain that I have BPD specifically Discouraged BPD although the subtypes are not trailed or proven it speaks to me very deeply and as consequence I have been looking at coping mechanisms for it which has been trying times.

I don't like diagnosing myself but more than that I respect thinking you have something, looking at treatments and dealings and follow through with things that don't harm someone, no ones going to care if you add more salt, if you take another second to breathe and consider, to write it all out but something I fear with the things I worry I have is that they are all clinically proven to worsen the time someone breaks into their twenties.

I find myself feeling bugs under my bandage, an impossible endeavour, seeing people at the gate who are not there, hearing the voices in the distance of people that no longer walk this earth. In this time I truly felt like I have opened Pandora's box and let it cling onto my soul as it laps and cherishes every bite as I become a husk.

I think I really need to petition to see a therapist or find a stranger to admit me to a public hospital. I know what is wrong with me. I can write a list a mile long and document every symptom but it means nothing if I have no one to unravel it with and there is no one I know I would want to or trust to talk about it.

All in all mother hurt me and my rejection sensitivity is so high I feel like I should just kill myself so mom doesn't have to deal with a son like me.