Gray zone

Living in the gray zone is a difficult thing to do for someone with borderline personality disorder. Either my son is going to be okay or he’s not. The doctors are saying he’s going to be fine but I’m the one rocking him when he’s screaming in pain. There is no gray… He’s not okay.
It drains me. I stand strong. I am a rock. He trusts me to make it okay. To help him through each battle. And I do. I hold back the tears. I stay positive. I encourage him. I pray with him.
But inside it drains me. My heart sinks. I tear myself down for not fixing it.
When he finally sleeps and I can escape to my bed… That’s when my chest pushes in and weighs more than I can bear. I trust God with the big picture. I have no problems with that. It’s the day to day battles that I feel alone. When I beg for pain to disappear and instead it increases. When my son tells me he’s afraid of dying young. When he doesn’t have a single dream or hope for the future. It weighs on my heart. Because in my world there is no middle ground. He’s either okay or he’s not.


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