{June 6, 2012}   Forget About Me

I should go to work today, I know, I should, I know I won’t, I cant.

I cant.

maybe they’ll forget about me, lost here, picking dirt from cracks in the floor.

if I lie here long enough will this space consume me, can I lose myself into the chocolate of the walls, the mocha of the floors and the splinters in the wood. This space is my world, disarray at every turn, piles of unrest, a mess of emotions littering the floor, apathy coating the walls, angst dripping through the pipes. how long before it drowns me I wonder, lying here, still, on the floor. will the waves of mercy wash over me, suffocate the pounding threatening to break my rib cage on every beat, plug my nostrils, seal the noise, choke me into silence and lull me into sleep, down into the deep.

to be cradled, like a baby, washed of sins, loved. in my mind, I can live that dream, that there is a love that is tenable, that bridges space and time, so when i die, will it be so, will they welcome me with open arms, love the person? Grant me a new life where the whips of this one no longer exist, where the burns and betrayals, play no more.

“I decided to get supersuicidal people, the very worst cases, because I figured these are the most miserable people in the world — they think they’re evil, that they’re bad, bad, bad — and I understood that they weren’t,” she said. “I understood their suffering because I’d been there, in hell, with no idea how to get out.” Marsha Lineham

it’s nice here, watching dawn come through the sleeves in the window, lighting my walls, finding me, here, alone. Come rest with me, the shards are glimmering, its pretty in hiding, where nothing touches you but the light and dark of day. Amanda will be  by soon, she hides in the morning light, but not to worry, she’ll carry her backpack of shame with her, drape it on me like a blanket of guilt, a rainbow of all her triumphs and my failures, crowing at all the ones that have turned their backs and walked away, so I can be here, alone, with her, warming ourselves in the fire of our co-joined splintered souls in the sunlight.

This feature is closely related to shame and to the fear of judgment. In both cases a person with BPD will judge themselves harshly because of the shame (they are a bad person) and will reject themselves (I don’t deserve acceptance).

A quote from Erica- BPD blog:

I don’t know how to define rejection, all I know is that it is the singular most motivating thing in my world…… it hurts me more than anything, it can be judgement, abandonment…… its someone else saying yet again that I am nothing but a worthless, lazy, evil, nasty piece of crap…. and not worth their time or effort…….. it reconfirms my own beliefs of self…. and makes me feel like I am dying inside…….. I will do anything to avoid it, and I will lash out and try to rip one to shreds emotionally, spiritually, if not physically if I feel they have rejected me in some way, it fuels my rages, and my depressions…. it is what makes me tick…….. and I hate it even tho it is the very air i breathe, i am surrounded by it at every turn, or so it seems…… every action taken towards me, appears to be a manifestation of some kind of rejection…… I see it everywhere, feel it intensely….. whether it is there or not……. i hate it……. so i scream accept me accept me, accept me!!!!!!!!!!!!

 and then i withdraw, because i feel no one does, and i want to protect myself from further pain, and continued perceived rejection……. i can tolerate just about anything……. except rejection…… it consumes me from inside…. and kills me little by little…….. and destroys my heart……. and the sad part.. is its almost always entirely in my own mind…….. welcome to my world……


Sometimes going to work helps me forget about why I’m upset. There was one day I was fairly suicidal and went to work anyways and my kids made me feel amazing! I guess it’s not so much work makes bad things better but just doing something, taking yourself out of what you’re experiencing and putting it into something outside of you can be helpful.

I wish i could, i just cant get up to do it, every time i step out the door the tears start flowing. its like every hurtful thing said to me screams in my ears. i am trying, i showered today 🙂 step one.

Showering is perfect! Me and my mental health research group joke (because it’s true) that it’s a good day because we washed our hair :p

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et cetera
A Forgetful Traveler

Remembering the world one blog post at a time

Life after BPD

Life after Borderline Personality Disorder; making a life worth living through love, laughter, positivity and Dialectical Behaviour Therapy

Bi-polar parenting

Thoughts and ideas

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