I go to eleven.

I posted this on twitter Friday night:
"Every gift can be a curse. My greatest asset is also my gravest weakness. As with all things, serenity lies in finding the balance."
Nevermind what I was talking about. I'm not applying that to something else.
In 2008 I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Before I had a diagnosis, I had two ways of explaining "what's wrong with me" and they're both from movies because that's how I roll.
1. My emotions go to eleven.
2. I feel everything. I can't not.
It all pretty much the same thing. Before I learned to control my emotions, I had two states - emotional overdrive and emotional exhaustion. Whatever I felt, I felt it intensely; eventually I would burn out and not feel much of anything until I recharged.
Thanks to Dialectical Behavior Therapy, I'm better. But I'm not cured. This is me. Which brings me to my next point:
It's not entirely bad.
I'm having a rough patch right now, going through more emotionally than I have since the beginning of the end of my marriage. The difference is, it almost killed me then.
There's almost a kind of beauty to it. To feeling so much at once. To being able to laugh genuinely even with the deep ache inside me.
Hurting so intensely might be a worthy price to pay. I get to hope so fervently, to laugh so warmly, to love so passionately. It's a gift.