borderlinegirlliveshere











{September 20, 2015}   How You Learn to Live Alone

First you fall, then you fly
and you believe that you belong
up in the sky.
Flap your arms, as you run,
every revolution brings you closer to the sun.
You fall asleep in motion, in unchartered
hemispheres,
and you wake up with the stars
fallin’ down around your ears.
And when they hit the ground,
they’re nothin’ but stones
that’s how you learn to live alone.
That’s how you learn to live alone.

Bit by bit, you slip away,
you lose yourself in pieces
by the things that you don’t say.
You’re not here, but you’re still there
The sun goes up and the sun goes down,
but you’re not sure you care.
You live inside the false,
till you recognize the truth.
People send you pictures,
but you can’t believe it’s you.
Seems forever since your house
has felt like home
that’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone.

It don’t feel right, but it’s not wrong.
It’s just hard to start again this far along.
Brick by brick, the letting go,
as you walk away from everything you know
When you release resistance
and you lean into the wind,
till the roof begins to crumble,
and the rain comes pourin’ in,
And you sit there in the rubble,
till the rubble feels like home
That’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone
that’s how you learn to live alone

https://youtu.be/yY8y4tEJz3A

Learn to live alone

Read more: Nashville Cast – How You Learn To Live Alone Lyrics | MetroLyrics



{July 17, 2015}   One Foot In, One Foot Out

Words seem so inadequate at times, when your soul is breaking, stripped, gutted and fighting to stay afloat. Emptiness, so full it threatens to swallow you, make you into nothing, pull you down into the depths of grey. How is it that I can ache so hard from within from emptiness? Shrouded, like an Arab concubine, moving in slow motion through dense fogs, trying to swim out from myself to feel. I am trying to smile, to find fun, to find an emotion outside of loneliness. It’s so hard to even breathe life, to lift the corners of my mouth, to try and spark life in my eyes. It’s not pretend but it feels like pretend, I am trying. Surrounded by humanity but trapped by my mind. I can’t find the exit key, is it time, is it to drop lower to come back up, like a seesaw.

Encapsulated, walking and talking in a sphere of gelatin. Each movement an effort, each word a push, a smile painful. Trying to break out of this jail of an eggshell without shattering. I keep saying “this too shall pass”, what do you want? What does my mind want to let me go back to normal, what do I need to do, what skills should I reach for, what salve do I rub, what means do I take. I feel like I have tried them all.

One foot in hell, the other grasping for a ledge in normalcy. Momentous, the tiny foothold, every small weight is a burden larger than life, minuscule as it may seem. Multiple feathers eventually become a weighted quilt mantled on my shoulders. Trying to juggle them, watching parts of me float silently into the abyss as tears come and go.

Inside looking out while the outside tries to look in, bewildered.



A simple yet compelling series of illustrations that highlight much of my world.

Sometimes simplicity is the best way to make a point.

After seeing firsthand how mental illness can take a toll, Marissa Betley decided to sketch out how it truly feels to struggle with a mental health disorder. She then posted the minimalist illustrations on Instagram. The results are simple, yet powerful — and thus, Project 1 in 4was born.

The initiative is aptly named for a statistic that many people still have yet to grasp: Approximately one in four American adults — or about 26 percent of the population — suffers from a diagnosable mental health condition in a given year.

Despite the fact that it’s so common among men and women, mental illness is still incredibly stigmatized — and that could prevent those who experience it from seeking the help they need. Betley says she created the project for this reason.

“So few are talking about [mental illness] and initiating change,” she told The Huffington Post in an email. “I thought if I could just find a real human way to raise greater awareness then maybe I could help break down the stigma surrounding mental illness that is preventing so many people from getting the help and support they need. Maybe the project could even save lives.”

Betley posts one illustration a day on the project’s Instagram page and plans to do so for 100 days. She also shares the images and other mental health resources on the project’s website.

Project 1 in 4 isn’t the first of its kind, but it’s a welcome initiative for a community of people who often feel alone in their experience. Anti-stigma projects like singer Demi Lovato’s Be Vocal campaign and beauty brand Philosophy’s Hope & Grace initiative also assist in promoting awareness about mental health issues. But society still has a long way to go: Only about 25 percent of people who suffer from a mental health issue feel that others are understanding about mental illness, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

“I hope the project will help erase the stigma surrounding mental illness that prevents so many people from getting the help and support they need,” Betley said. “Also to provide a sense of comfort to those suffering, knowing they are not alone. Millions of people around the world are up against many of the same daily challenges.”

Ultimately, for those one in four individuals experiencing a mental health disorder, Betley hopes the project inspires acceptance within themselves.

“You deserve to be happy and healthy — don’t forget that,” she said.

We couldn’t agree more.

Check out the slideshow below to see more of the Project 1 in 4 illustrations:

CLICK HERE FOR FULL ARTICLE

Please share.



Moods. dysregulation, like pleasantly drowning in quick sand, the sensation leaches into you, like that slow pin prick into a vein. You feel that warmth, blanketing like mugginess on a hot day, steaming and settling onto your skin, the poison, velvety caressing into your veins, drawing you down. Each breathe is a sinking , languid melt you don’t want to fight off, it’s easy to slide into that comfort of turning off the pain, the triggers, the hurt, the chaos. Each breath deeper into the warm mud, closing in, safe, terrifyingly safe. Depression is a womb, it comforts and envelopes, seals you off into a space where you’re suspended in hurt and sorrow, all you know, timeless, un-seeing. There is no up or down, around, sights, smells, all you feel is hurt, bone deep hurt, everywhere, out your eyes, in your skin. You’re meant to fight this, don’t sink into the warm cocoon of the sand, don’t slide into the mucus of the womb, because once in, you’re trapped, coming out is a labyrinth of emotions, and days of recovery.

But how to elude the crumbs of safety, come in and we will make you safe, warm, turn off that outside world, to hell with working through all the pain, let it welcome you, let’s revel in it, become it, and lose oneself in it.

I know I don’t want this but I am just too tired to fight all the triggers, they’re all around and I am tired. Each one seems bigger than the next though infinitesimally smaller, crashing in never ending waves and I’m drowning, can I not just drown?  I am tired of swimming, I am tired, and I am tired of people and their pokes and prods, tired of smiling, tired of trying to be me, the smiling me.

So easy to let go, so much easier to find that hole and crawl in, womb, wave, sand, take me to nothingness. Instead, put the training on, the hard hat and back to fighting, fighting all the demons that come within it, inviting me down down down to their opulent palace of oblivion and panacea of anaesthesia.

I will win the fight, again, as always. In the meanwhile, let’s face the pain. Pray its sticks and stones and not knives and bloods.



{May 13, 2015}   Springing Forward

5 months in to the new year and change is in the air, like Spring, there is a sense that there may be a sense of renewal. I get scared to write things down, positive things, like in some way I may jinx it by saying it loud. That there is an almighty evil residing not only inside of me but around the corner that senses positivity and will come down with a mighty roar of Thor’s hammer. It’s been 5 months of step by step, eyes to the ground, one foot in font of the other. I did things for myself, i went away, i took a good girlfriend and got to know her better, i lived in the moment in my happy place, and it’s made a difference. In my low times, i bring up that trip, the sun, the freedom, the immense sense of joy of being somewhere i love and it’s carried me through some hard welling of emotion that have stopped me in my tracks the last couple of months.

It’s been a jigsaw, 1000s of pieces slowly fitting together, many times not fitting and coming back to try again. My emotions are very strong now since I stopped my medication but I am stronger for having the control. I can 95% of the time feel the trigger impulse and squash if not deflect, or realize when i need to duck and hide, retreat.

jigsaw

There’s been a village of assistance with my psychiatrist back from maternity leave. I was scared to tell her that i cold turkey stopped my medications because I needed to work through the pain of separation, feel it, hurt through it and beat the BPD bastard so I knew I could live through not just this break up but any others to come, that I had the strength, in me, and just me, no medications, no fall backs. Hallelujah to her for understanding and supporting me and truly if she was around I may not have done it, but now that I have I’m a poster child. My counsellor has been a Godsend, a true godsend. My life is an open book in counselling and in class, i live through a village of guidance, nothing is sacred. I’d rather have it all out there and let’s help me live all together, because that is the point, for me to live, no matter what it takes.

Class gives me perspective in pain, that we all sit in there suffering through this pain of mental health. I am so honoured to be with people who are fighting just as hard with just as much stigma as I face. Judgement, it’s there all the time, from people you work with, unwitting friends, boyfriends, friends, exes. Like my life is a game, that somehow they have a right to weigh in with judgement or comments or think they know. It’s when I sit in class and hear the stories that I realize I am not alone, others face the same judgements and stigmas from loved ones and strangers alike and it gives me the push to ignore the people who want to derail and push my triggers. Don’t judge me unless you are me, I can’t even begin to think I can understand a fellow BPD pain but I can contextualize it far more than anyone else can.

I still struggle and tomorrow is still a scary place, as is next week, next month. There is never a sense of security, i feel the bottom could drop out at anytime. Small steps, forward. At least I know where bottom is and if I have pockets of up, I should enjoy them no matter what as my counsellor says, let myself revel in it for as long as I can.

I felt so guilty for a while of so many things, of finally making that stand that I needed to take time for myself to get out of this town. I’ve said it over and over again through the years, get out every 2 months and yet guilt and shame from others made me feel like i was joy riding rather than doing something for my health. Now that I am alone, and I have done it and seen the rejuvenation, the spring I can pull from, please let me have the strength to continue to defy those that guilt me for doing so.

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Work, it doesn’t help, but we all know this, counsellors, psychs, peers, we all know that work and BPD, stress and BPD is like feeding crack to an addict, it helps but it doesn’t help. It gives a purpose but it comes with its strings. It reminds me of being in a batting cage with the ball machine on the fritz, swinging that bat wildly to ensure you don’t get knocked out cold. You score some home runs but it’s not relaxing. My counsellor asked me if I wanted a career, and the truth is, no, I don’t. I have no desire to grow bigger and add-on additional stress or more eyeballs. I’m here because I need to pay the bills but truth be told, if I could leave this town and move somewhere more open and meaningful where i was working and accomplishing but not dealing with the shit race of life, take me there. I need to get out of this town and it’s plastic pretences, fear of transparency and lack of balls. People in this town are all about smoke and mirrors, just get over yourselves and your judgements, wrapped up in a pretty bow of perfection.

Dating, it’s been a hot topic at therapy and group. So, we have all started dating. I say “we” because it has become a dating by consensus, even though it’s just me on the front line. I like it, it’s like having all your friends watch your back and I don’t have to make any decisions on my own and it makes me feel more secure that there is a check and balance built into me. It’s been fun bringing everything to the mental health table every week for group discussion. That word “fun”, makes me cringe most times. This life is the furthest thing from fun. The furthest thing from “happy”. Two most dreaded words I hate to hear people ask me, “are you happy?”, fuck no, but I am alive and I have good moments. Happy, go ram that up your ass, I haven’t found happy in 15 years for more than a few hours.

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Dating. It’s meticulous. Dating the correct BPD way, maybe I can start a manual. Everything close to your chest and make sure you put out all the disclaimers and warnings right off the bat, here it is, read it and proceed at your own risk. Makes me laugh. So stressed the first time and now, I don’t care if people know I have a mental health disease. Would I judge someone for cancer, no, I’d empathize. My ex-DBF used to care so much about perception and what people thought that it made me almost ashamed of my BPD and my scars. This is me, through and through, I am not afraid to tell someone what I am and what I have been through, yes I cut myself, you can see it, and I am alive. You have an issue, it’s not my problem, its yours. Second thing, past the warning, it’s not about my health, no day-to-day health or stress sharing, that’s my game and my game alone. I deal with my issues, it stays on this side of the pie chart, dating on the other, the two do not co-mingle. It’s been weird but good, it’s likely obvious I am withholding things but I’ve gotten good at working through my troubles alone or in group or with counselling, no need for a layperson that doesn’t understand to get into the mix. I don’t need another person to handhold my BPD, I have a village behind me for that and some awesome friends to call. Dating stays in the neutral zone, no need to get deep, three’s a crowd, BPD can stay home and join me later.

So, step by step, health first, kids next, everything else is tertiary. I say that mantra to myself everyday I step out the door and to work. I know what I need for my health, I’ve made some big changes on my own, so tune out the naysayers and the judgements and stigma and one step in front of the other.



{April 10, 2015}   Malaise

The malaise is settling back in. Woke this morning to feel the baby devil on my chest and the tightness radiating through my windpipe and down my lungs, slowly tightening the air from my soul, reminding me that it may abate but never leave. Pushed up and out to get up, walking zombie legs and mind, that thrumming of negativity behind each step, knocking, incessant. Sat in the car after dropping the kids of willing myself not to cry with the pain of breathing and knowing that the weeks ahead will be inhumane work to make it through without a hit to the wall.

Are we wired to be happy, I don’t believe so, BPD we are wired to be sad, death-full, pointless, we’re wired to misery. Like the pam trees on the beach reaching to the ocean, no matter how you try, you cannot bend that trunk any other way, it may sway and move to and fro in the wind, but that bark is permanently grown facing the direction it was meant to be. I find happy so fleeting, I have it, and when I do, I treasure it like a newborn baby, watching it breathe, hoping it stays alive, cradling it’s sensitive spots and enjoying the smell of life and renewal.

Work is a dark knife that is pushed so deep inside of me, each flicker of a movement, no matter how slight, triggers a nauseating amount of bile to rise up figuratively and at times literally. I spend so much time reading, researching and re-reading and my core is trust, I need trust and I don’t feel trust at work. My back is vulnerable, there is no comfort that my partners have my back, instead it is more of a scrutiny and constant watch that bores holes into me. I can’t settle into this job because I don’t find it a trusting place. I make it a trusting and nurturing place for my staff but the partner side is a mess. When I worked this job before, 5-6 years, we were a family that leaned on one another, shared and no matter what, business or work, people came first and we were a team through thick and thin. Now, thin means cause and effect, repercussions, scrutiny, and a constant “watch my back” feeling that twists the knife ever so slightly each time and makes me want to crawl into bed and find that depression.

I would say that maybe this is me but I know I have worked other places, like the former iteration of this job and with my other partner with no cause and effect. For me, it comes down to the people and to the trust I feel in them. My other partner, we’ve been in harder situations and more emotional ones, living one on top of the other, and yet we persevere because trust, admiration and an acknowledgment that people come, we come, before our jobs. We’re not robots and I do not govern myself without emotion, it’s my BPD hallmark and I have grown proud of the positive sides of being a person that cares. But oil and water… they will never mix, so we can keep stirring that pot, and stirring that pot and it’s still going to be a slimy, incoherent, mess.

Happiness. I can access it, bring a smile, find a bright moment before I stumble into the grey. Yes, grey, not black, we still have some light in there. It’s hard to go to the light and come back to this horrible, closed up, trussed up city I live in. It’s disgusting really. But I know the devil of this place and it has saved my life a few times, and, by nature of yin and yang caused me to need saving of said life. So best thing for me to do, shrink pep talk, look at my calendar, find the spot 3 months from now to put a light and work towards getting there and leaving again for a respite to come back and do this all over. Yes, work will have another eyebrow raising moment but fuck them, better alive and working than dead. I know what I need- their world may be about the bottom $ line, mine is about staying alive for my children. If they can’t see that they can take their business, up their ass and keep it. I’m working my ass off, maybe not in their “logical, functional, spreadsheeted” way, but my way, which doesn’t mean it’s the wrong way if it’s not their way. And, being in this business long enough, if you get rid of too much of my way, your way will go down with it.

#hatingthiscity #hatingthislife #babyboomerssux #lovemykids #happiness



{April 5, 2015}   Fill The Well

Last final days of being away. In this time my heart has expanded, contracted and at times split and spilled over with love and pain. Many memories here, coming back after 3 years. The fear of facing memories of my overdose and my subsequent departure into the wind, with not a word to a soul, had me scared of what my welcoming would be. Would people still remember me, accept me into a community I can call nothing else but home, or would I be an interloper, trying to feed back in after turning my back on many that had welcomed me into their home, their island, as a Belonger.

I was scared, very scared, but part of what this year has been for me is facing my fears, setting my boundaries and doing what is right for me and living through what those consequences, good or bad may be.

There is so much love here, belonging and community, giving that I cannot find in my city life. I walk out the door and I can’t help but smile at the feeling of being part of something, of a bigger whole that takes care of its pieces. Not just a dot in a sea of faces as it is in my “other” home where there is no whole, it’s all fragmented parts, people in lobbies that don’t make eye contact, neighbours that don’t care to make friends, strangers that can live side by side for years and never forge a bond. Acquaintances that are looking for the next best acquaintance to further their needs.

Not that my heart hasn’t yawed open at times here, some memories and misunderstandings are fresh and cannot be solved, and they caused such a tightening I thought I could not breathe. Walk away, I did, I walked away, to know that you cannot be everything for everyone and not everyone will understand BPD and suicide. I lost a friend who did not understand, it hurt, but luckily I had 2 friends to hold me up and walk away.

And old friends, they came out of the woodwork, no questions asked. You’re from here, will always be from here and they cannot wait till I return. That causes pinpricks of sorrow, can I ever come back here, can the 2 lives ever intertwine? So diametrically different that I do wonder if there is a split personality that can make me so able to rotate between both so easy. In no way are they the same, or am I the same. Where am I happier, here, with more people, more love, more belonging. Back in the city, its a handful of few, and when you’re in the crowd, you are no one, no one cares. And in the city you are stuck, maybe not stuck but attached to so few, your boyfriend, your best friend, your sister, but the rest are just faces in the crowd, you cannot reach out and touch someone.

I love walking out the door and running into everyone, walking down the street, shopping, sitting at a restaurant and it could be anyone from the taxi driver to the hotel owner, a celebrity, there is no class here, it’s flat, we are all friends. If you need friendly words and company it’s never far.

The city I live in is all about the who’s who and what can you do for me, I don’t trust my back with anyone. I don’t even trust my business partners, I am sure they would throw my BPD under the bus if it served them right. My biggest dread of leaving is going back to that, the constant tension and unease of what’s coming down the pipe next. You can’t run a business without trust and feeling like the other side has your back, for me I feel like it’s N and S Korea, I don’t trust anything and I am not giving anything or sharing anything lest it come back to shame me for my naiveté. It’s all about the bottom line there, it’s not about people, it’s about money. It’s not about feeling, it’s about logic. It’s not me and I feel like a fish in a sea of sharks trying to stay afloat and not ripped apart.

I digress. My heart is happy, my soul is full. I need to take this feeling back and let it buoy me through the next few months if I can. I have done, felt, lived all that I have missed in the last 3 years. I have felt the love, the warmth, the acceptance, and know I can come back and be welcomed with open arms, no judgement. I have a sadness that says, I likely will never return to live, the 2 lives have no intersection point, if I forge one there it never runs perpendicular, and the same for here. So, for now, a day at a time, create a memory box, save some money to maybe come back if the well needs filling.

I am glad I did this, through the insecurity and fear, I faced it, I conquered, and now onwards.



{March 27, 2015}   Standing in the Sun

Happy. So happy tears are spilling down my cheeks as I write these 5 little letters. I am HAPPY (what?). Happy and so scared of when happy goes away. Be in the moment, I keep reeling that line back in to the present, mindful to stay in the emotion of how I am here and now, don’t let the spool get stuck in the rock depths. Marinate in this moment, moments, and commit them to memory for when the darkness returns, make this the light, remember the light.

My hands tremble and water still drains from my eyes, times like these are so fleeting, I can’t believe I am sitting in reality. I haven’t felt this breathe move through my chest, living, life. Outside the window, is beauty, appreciation, perfection, adjectives I see but never understand as applying to me.

I want to wade into the ocean and contribute my salty tears to the conflux of the ocean, wash myself into this peacefulness and join energies with the salve of the water, ensuring when I return, I live in her depths.

For 3 days I have woken up without death sitting on my chest, the breeze coming through the windows washing smiles across my face, the gentle warmth of contentment curling up beside me. It doesn’t matter that it’s just me, i dance around the kitchen in disorganized abandon, laugh at my ridiculousness, talk out loud to the oceans and stars, and close my eyes to nothing but peace, gone are the death threats, plans of pain and the zero sum game. Nights are my friend again, morning my haven.

Unrealistic, of course, crests and troughs is how life works and the rise and fall of the waves outside remind me that I need to grasp every millisecond of this happiness while it’s in my palms. I needed to wipe this home from my mind the last 3 years to move forward, to heal, get well, find help and focus on just living. Living, that’s what I have done, I have lived. Lived to return to life, even for a brief moment in time, because this is life, I forgot, I made her go away, but here she is, in all her glory, smiling down at my sorrowful joy.

The emotions are thunderous, jungle drums beating a crescendo rising from within of warmth, heat, with a hint of fear. Is it fair to be afraid, mirages come and go, don’t get too attached because reality is stronger than fiction. I want to reach a hand out and touch the bubble and see if the walls wobble and pass.

For now, hands off, it will wobble but that can wait. Right now, I need to have my moment in the sun, to bask, glory and absorb every minute of these wonderful wonderful feelings that have been gone and dormant for far too long. Standing in the sun. I’m going to stand in the sun, tears flowing, happiness cascading down, singing my joy to the world and dancing in circles.

Vida.

*SG, we’re standing in the sun.  Wherever, you are are, I’m standing here for both of us*



{March 18, 2015}   Happy & Crappy

Today was a classic example of borderline moods. I have had every mood possible and I am exhausted from the effort of non-effort as I personally had no control over my moods, which is rather evident and disturbing. For the first time in 3 months, yesterday and this morning, I woke up without wanting to die. The lack of death was glaring, that I almost missed the feeling. I was stupid happy this morning, chatted with a good friend, la dee da’ed my way around the house, drove the entire highway singing at the top of my lungs with a smile on my face and not once did I gauge my normal drive off the cliff points. Laugh out loud, I could have tattooed the “LOL” on my forehead. So this may all be a extended definition of mania, not sure, or I could just be happy (what?).

However, before we cue the grandiose music, by mid day, i was miserable, miserable and more miserable. Deflated and a ball of drudgery and moroseness at how purposeless life is and the irony of being euphoric to abysmal in a matter of minutes. Not that this is a surprise to anyone with BPD, cycling moods, quickly cycling moods is a hallmark, I’ve just been in a transient depression for the last 3 months, I’m jack in the boxing due to triggers I think.

I pyscho babbled my way through the afternoon, and proceeded to go from listless, to irritable to flat. Flat that everything was excruciating, watching myself in a slow motion film pushing myself to plod on. It’s easier to stay flat constantly than to drop from high to low, the pressure coming up and going down is as uncomfortable as it sounds. Its like being attached to puppet strings but you can’t look up or see the script of what’s next, it’s just a jerk and you’re spun into act 2, mood 2.

Distraction, I played the music loud, I tried to watch TV, I tried to do sit ups, I tried everything just to stay doing something and not feel. Nothing worked, I was on the roller coaster and the eject button was not an option in this particular carriage.

And then, pffffft, mood change, talked to a girlfriend and felt awkwardly normal, whatever that is, transient depression, where I was before, comfort zone. Tried to keep it there, played all my DBT tapes in my head, talked to myself. Self motivated, tried to stay in this “normal” zone, I’m exhausted.

I am truly exhausted. I have no idea what spin the mood is next, but I’m not liking this at all. It’s creepy and yeah I like happy but not when happy and crappy go face to face, cheek to cheek every couple of hours.

Oh my dear BPD, how nice to see you classically manifesting yourself just as a reminder in case I get too comfortable in depression.



{March 12, 2015}   Rollercoasting

Therapy.

Went to it yesterday. It’s a waterfall of relief having a person that understands you, gets you, right down to the warped molecules floating angrily in your brain.

It’s been a hard, hard, unbearably hard 3 months. It seems incredulous to think it has only been 3 months, but I suppose things were not right prior, they came to a head 3 months ago but had been gathering for a few months before.

I feel starkly black and white in certain ways. I wake up every morning wanting to die, without a doubt, a seed so deep it’s curled into every muscle fibre and vein of my body, drinking deeply as I sleep. I don’t try and rip it out anymore, I just work through the pain each and every day to get up and go, till I can find the quiet in my head, the mindful practice that straightens me and the noise of the world to get out of the bed and begin.

I still laugh at the people that tell me, who know me, “you look like you’re in a good mood today”, as if by saying that it will make it so, make them feel like they’re what, right? Sure there are good moods, good days but you can’t see them by looking at me. It just makes me feel like shit OK? So shut up. Because I don’t feel that way and we both know it. I always look like I’m in a good mood externally, I’m a trained BPD beast.

The days, the days are fine, I do my thing, the thing I am good at. It gives me routine, it gives me comfort and it makes me smile in my little bubble that I am making other people happy, creating worlds for other people. I don’t think my ex ever understood that, I want people to be happy, to build them events, find them that one piece that lights them up. It’s not the money, or the sale, or drive, it’s the fact that I can create for others what I cannot for myself. I am building a world of happy, even if for one day, and all it is is a fantasy. Everything is beautiful and perfect. Perfect, it’s what I am not, but what I can make. So, if I am tired and grumpy getting there, at the end of the haul, I get to see happy.

Nights, they’re hard too, but I have the pills at night and they cut the edge when the voices go astray when all my strength starts to fade. Nights are hard, my personal horror channel starts when my eyes close. The thing is, it’s not horror, I want it, I am now just trained to reject it. All the daydreams of death, they’re pretty, and there is the me that wants it so badly. I’m a trained dog, that’s told to sit and look at its food and not devour it, well trained I am. Don’t give in to those hunger pangs, Pavlov would be proud.

I’ve been trying to build community, my homework from therapy. To reach out and build relations. I pointed out it’s hard to build relations when you’re obscuring who you are to another person and are essentially pretending. Its basing a friendship on a lie. I have’t told my business partner of 2 years yet. I’ve lied to her so many times about hospital visits, illnesses, cuts. How do you come out of the mental health closet and not have people treat you differently. At the shop, the shareholders, who know, now consider every thing that might be off about me a “health thing”. Like, fuck off. Do you know how many people I know with who would tell you I am the most sane person out there, happy too.

Anyways, relations, I am building relations, reaching out to friends to “lunch” or inviting them to do things. It’s uncomfortable but necessary. I’ve realized it’s part of DBT, the relationship part, means more than just intimate relations, it means finding the boundaries and the mindful places with people. More training, setting my limits, testing how far to push and then pull back to find the right balance. When to go, when to stay in, when I want to stay in but should not. Or when to be in and not be out. Very confusing because my BPD self is an all or nothing beast. Black and white. Be a hermit or be a social maven, the in-between is a rocky road of self control.

Physically, feeling a bit scarred. It was a hard talk to have, that open yourself up and lay yourself out to someone. Though she’s my counsellor, it’s still vulnerable, to say that I don’t feel comfortable even thinking of physicality with another person anymore for fear of judgement. I was never sure if it was something wrong with me or him, that made me so undesirable. Months and every overture turned down. Was it because I was hard to please? Was it lack of skill? Was it a body type that was unattractive? What was it? What was it about me that was so undesirable? I look in the mirror and I don’t find myself unattractive, I don’t mind my own physicality, I’d walk around naked everyday all day if I could. I think for someone my age, I look good, yet… he never really looked at me that way, never wanted me.  I don’t think I could handle rejection like that again. It was a searing lack of affirmation for someone that needs affirmation like myself. It is so odd to me that I feel this way because I have NEVER been that person. And it’s not that I don’t feel pretty, I do, it’s not the face value or body dysmorphia, I just feel undesirable. Sexless even.

Things aren’t bad right now, it’s just pointless. I’m rudderless and just living with certain spots of gaiety. Kids, all for the kids. Almost like being pregnant, you’re a vessel, existing for another life that you’re creating, or in this case created. I’m protecting myself for them. Building a life, for them.

So tired.



et cetera
Life after BPD

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

confessionsofbpd

The secret life of high-functioning borderline personality disorder.

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Thoughts and ideas

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