It’s after me again



Well here I am again. I’m really struggling. I just want to be ok. I am trying so hard. I don’t know if it’s apparent or not. I’m trying not to cry. I’m trying to make good decisions. I’m trying to be cautious of my behavior. But the truth still is that I’m falling apart so quickly. I can feel myself unraveling and I’m so scared 😦 I can feel it closing in on me and I just want to scream for help, but there’s no one to run to the rescue because no one gets it and I really don’t want to burden anyone anymore than I already do on a regular basis.

Everything is triggering me. Everything. Every facial expression people make. Every tone of voice they use. Everything everything everything. I’m ultra sensitive like at any moment the slightest thing will kill me. I wish I had a close friend, a real friend, who knew just what I went through. I’m in so much agony that I don’t know how I could even begin to express it to someone.

I don’t know what to do 😦 I’m having a lot of self-harm thoughts today. If it weren’t for this thing I am doing this weekend, I think I’d be giving into those urges right now. I wish someone could just hold me until it’s over. Tell me they love me. Kiss me on the forehead and tell me if will be ok. That I’m safe.

I want it to be over 😦


9 thoughts on “It’s after me again

  1. I was about ready to call it a night.
    I’m getting towards the end of a seven-THOUSAND word post that is more personal and difficult than anything I’ve done here or in even intimate public before, and it got to where it was a good place to stop and give it some more time.
    Save the draft, sign out, close the window, and I’m back at my Reader.
    And there you are.
    And I read and I am wide awake.

    When I worked in Child Support, I was often told that I could tend to take some cases too personally. That I would get too wrapped up in some of them.
    Well I was dealing with kids the same age or younger than our own daughter and son. Kids who – aside from the grace of God and an incredible mother to help raise them – could have been mind.
    I was not putting myself in their shoes, but could not help thinking about how I would feel if it were our kids who were telling the story.
    I know nothing about you that isn’t related by your stories, or reflected in your thoughts, that isn’t brought to life in your words, and you, little sister, wear your heart on your sleeve.
    Or on your keyboard.
    It’s very easy to care about you, my precious total stranger, and it naturally follows that one could grow concerned.
    Our kids have grown up with several of our quirks, leaning more towards mine as Liz’s BPD is rooted (surprise!!!) in a number of environmental factors in her youth.
    Aside from three deaths in five years ending in my late adolescence, I had it really easy. Beyond easy.
    And some of your words this time around reflecting your feelings are concerning.
    You have quite a few good people out there following you, feeling each and every one of your words as it they were theirs.
    Reach out to them the best you can. You have a therapist? Don’t hold back anything. They’ve heard worse.
    And again, once again…
    I am relatively sure Liz has felt worse.
    I have the e-mail I’m using just for direct contact through this blog:
    If you feel comfortable (shit, I’m some guy in his 60s on the internet, for God’s sake) send me a note there if you think it might help a bit to have a video visit with my wife.
    Try it with some of the other followers who have reached out to you and struck a chord.
    If you’re here because you don’t know where or who to turn to, use its power to help you.
    And if nothing else, know that we’re praying for you.
    And know that there are others who need the comfort you offer them.

    Please keep fighting.
    Just call in some back-up troops if need be.
    This isn’t as insignificant as Iraq, okay?


    1. Hi, Harris. Thank you for your reply. It does feel good to know that there are people out there in the world that seem to care. It’s funny because those closest to me, like my sister and mom, never acknowledge me like this. I’m not much of a video chat person. I get too nervous. I’m a much better writer but that’s ok that she isn’t much into that. I may take you up on the email thing if that’s ok.

      Thank you.

      1. It’s beyond okay. And eventually if you start to feel a little more comfortable, a little less nervous, or just feel like leaving your zone for a bit, Liz would be a great source to look to.
        She’d even understand if you “hung up” on the video chat in the middle of one of your own sentences.
        And your mom and sis? The first thing that gets in the way there is that if they want to help, they have no idea how to do it, and that’s scary, makes them feel useless to help someone they care about so deeply, and that is the elephant in the room they just choose to avoid.
        And there are some who choose not to try to understand. Remember my post about “You” always being the one who needs to change?

        Give it all time. If it ever seems it’s not working, spend that time with someone else.

        Have someone give you a big, long hug for me.

  2. Aww hun. I may be far away but please know I am always here to listen. I get you. Most of your posts I could have written myself. Stay strong. I know you can get through this xx

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