the enormous, infinite scream of nature

Edvard Munch, and how art and nature helps me cope with BPD

I’ve spent a long while deciding whether to talk about my mental health diagnoses in any depth. After all, it’s my business. I can choose to keep it to myself. And in a way, I’d still like to, but after sending this newsletter out, I know I’ve forfeited that option. The thing is, I don’t want to talk about my mental health, but I don’t seem to want to talk about anything else, either.

I was tentatively diagnosed by a mental health professional with Borderline Personality Disorder last year. I take slight offense at the idea of there being anything known as a “personality disorder” in this life, but perhaps that’s a topic for another time. I’ve wondered for a while whether having a diagnosis changes anything at all, and the answer for me at least is, no, not at all. I still feel the same. I am still the same person. However, what it does do for me is give me a reason—and sometimes that’s all I need. Not an explanation, but a possible cause for my pain, and an understanding that some of the intense, unbearable things I’m feeling are symptoms, not flaws or truths.

Edvard Munch was inspired to paint what he felt in his soul rather than simply what he saw by a fellow artist—this led him to explore the complicated world inside himself. I’m not that interested in The Scream, however. I’ve been looking at Munch’s painting The Sun. In this I see almost uncontainable joy, a feeling so strong it almost tips over into fear, all brought on by seeing a sunset. They say he likely had the disorder himself. Makes sense to me.

That’s the thing about BPD. The strong emotions swing both ways. You live tiptoeing around the void, but you’re also occasionally blessed with blinding, life-changing sunlight.

(Thanks in advance if you feel like reaching out to me but honestly, I just wanted to write this and I don’t have the energy to have conversations about BPD or my health right now. I’m doing well, and I am going on a short holiday next week. I appreciate your concern, but honestly: All is good.)

The Sun - Edvard Munch