So I haven’t written much on my blog lately. In all honesty, it’s because I’m having quite a difficult time right now. My emotions are everywhere, I can’t keep up with eating because I have no money for food half the time. I wound up in hospital after yet another overdose. There are things going on within my family that are really difficult, a lot of which involve my brother, and when he goes, who is there to help me? My brother is my safe place. In mindfulness and meditation more generally, thinking of a safe place to try to calm your mind is thinking of a safe location. For me, that’s alone, in a mac, with bare feet and legs, writing in my diary on a stoney beach, somewhere in England, during a storm. The rain and wind whipping up my hair and the sea, whipping against my skin. That’s just in my mind. In reality, it’s Joe. He ‘s there for me always and when he melts down, I melt down even more.
I’ve been actively suicidal for about a week, cutting holes in my body, drinking, taking drugs, etc.. I’ve been falling apart. It’s partly to do with my attitudes towards sex, which is entirely fucked. Being sexually abused for years makes you feel like you are nothing unless you are fucking someone, I sleep around and it means I exist. If I didn’t, I’m nothing. Logically, I know it’s isn’t true, but emotionally, I don’t. However, if I can make myself that image first, no one can do it for me. Another thing is that I’m poor. So poor I can’t keep up with my friends. And now I think I feel jealousy and fear towards them. I’m losing them. I can’t go to their birthdays and no one ever seems to enjoy my company. I feel like all my friends are gone and all think I’m a lazy waster with no ambition or hope. I’m jealous because they are better than me, and I’m scared because I’m losing them. I feel completely isolated. I’m also starting to get back into uni, and that in itself is hard. Working on my MA again is a lot for my brain to take in. It’s doable, but just hard. And my motivation is low because use every time I think about my life, I want to die. I’m not safe.
So obviously, because this makes all the sense, I decided I could have no friends and everyone had to go away because they all hate me and I need help and needed to shout really loudly so that everyone would come and help me. So I blocked all my friends on Facebook, and anyone that linked us, so they’d all think I’d run off dramatically. This, by the way, is a ridiculous idea. Telling everyone to fuck off doesn’t get you attention, it’s gets people fucking off. Just praying someone realises that what I’m doing means I need help is believing in blind faith alone. I don’t have blind faith in anything else in the world, just about how to ask for help. So shout and scream and text people to tell them I’m leaving and telling everyone they hurt me, or just plain blocking (which they don’t notice anyway). Rationally, this is ridiculous.
The thing is, I think I’m ok when I know what I need. I ask, and it’s fine. Now though, I don’t know what I need. I don’t know what will help. I know I can’t mind read, but that means that anyone could lie. Everyone could hide whatever they want from me. That’s why, however an obvious choice this may be, my super power would be mind reading. Not knowing is the hardest, and sometimes all people can do is listen to me tell them their wrong until I run out of steam. Then I need people to sit with me and watch silly television till I fall asleep, just so I’m safe. I don’t really know how to articulate my emotions and I’m kinda sure that no one can fix them but me. Sucks right?
So on Friday, I cried a lot, threatened to kill myself and wound up with friends who couldn’t fix it because how can they?
Which all kinda leads to my point – dependance and attachment in BPD. I think that a common part of BPD includes unhealthy attachments to people. You need them and their attention more than anyone else does, or at least on some subconscious level you do. You need them to belong to you in a sense. You don’t want to own them, but for them to be yours. For them to invite you to everything, for them to contact you the most, for them to be there when you need and never pick someone over you. It’s ridiculous and irrational, but I think it’s true. All I can say is what’s true for me, but I constantly feel like people are like mice or something. I’m always trying to keep them in my shoebox, but they are always trying to escape.
So you cry for help in any way you know how. Whether that’s sitting alone, self-harming, hoping that maybe someone will help, but then hiding it anyway so the whole affair was futile; screaming at people about how much you hate them and ruin their lives (again, futile); or hurling stuff around, breaking things and ripping things to shreds (notice the futility? It’s a pattern).
Forming healthy relationships is hard for me, and maybe it’s hard for other people with BPD. I don’t know. I can’t speak for everyone. What I can say that I’m not sure any of my relationships are healthy. I adore or despise people. I will listen to someone tell me they need space, then fall to the floor and literally beg, holding on to their legs. I’ve covered rooms in blood so that people will stay. I’ve also ignored people, glared at them, never explaining why. I will sit alone for weeks because I hate everyone. The middle ground doesn’t really exist for me and I think it exists for everyone else. The part where not everyone is your best friend or your worst enemy. I know that exists, just I don’t know how to access it. So I cry a lot and cut myself to shit and take overdoses which wind up with me in hospital. Maybe I should have paid more attention in interpersonal effectiveness skills groups.
Right now, people are hard and I need them and I need them to not judge me for getting fat and ugly or being a waste of space or living on benefits. I need them to understand me in a way that I don’t. I suck at understanding myself and I suck at listening to others opinions. I need a lot of opposing ideas to come together and make sense out of who and what I am. I need to be more than obsolete. I need to stop being a moody cunt, but let’s not lie, that’s never going to happen.