Put to the test

It’s been a bit of a rough day. I reached out to my therapist for the first time, so I guess that’s good. I didn’t do anything too stupid, that’s also good I guess. I got through it alright…so far. It still sucks. It sucks that it’s an issue at all and that I have to work so hard, but I guess I better get used to that because this will be my life…forever. Though its supposed to get easier. In all honesty, this was better than bawling in the fetal position and decorating my body with a sharp object. So, its a step up, but it still sucks.

I didn’t hear from my boyfriend for 12 whole hours. When I woke up in the morning and still hadn’t heard from him, right away I just felt…forgotten. I felt like that was it. He forgot about me. He didn’t love me anymore. I’d never hear from or see him again. Forgotten. Completely and utterly forgotten. Like I didn’t exist anymore, for anyone. It’s a really bad feeling.

I sat with it all day until I reached my boiling point. It’s amazing how quickly “hurt” turns into “rage”. Anger I guess is easier to deal with because it’s projected at someone else, rather than being hurt where you are the target. No one likes to be the target. So there I was, at work, unable to concentrate. Unable to work. Unable to eat. Right away I told myself I needed to use my skills. But for the life of my racing dysregulated brain, I couldn’t recall a single one. I tried so hard, but my brain was going so fast, I couldn’t slow it down enough to focus on pulling a skill from my memory, and so all I came up with that I’d do, was throw at him a bunch of swear words and then ignore him “like he ignored me”, for at least 12 hours. I instead decided to text my therapist for help, and she got back to me rather quickly.

It was hard to overcome. Somehow, responding to him and going against my revengeful behavior felt like I was invalidating myself and what I felt about the situation. It feels like you’re giving up your shield, armor, and weapons in the midst of a war. Except I guess I’m the only one who feels or knows that we’re in a war. It’s just so hard 😦

Funny too, because right after I texted her, he texted me. I ignored it for a little while. Partly because that’s what I just wanted to do because I was so hurt and angry, but quickly it became because I just wasn’t in a place to respond. Nothing good would have come of it. Within 3 hours he asked if I was ok. I was blown away given the 12 I had waited, and this unfortunately spiked my emotions up once again. T kept texting me, which was helpful, and we decided on some things, and had a plan.

When I finally got home from work, I texted him back; guard down. He replied and we talked a little. I guess it’s better. I’m not better as in all ok, but I’m better than I was, I guess. I don’t know.

It’s hard. I know I keep repeating that. It just is. As a borderline, when you find someone or something that starts to fill a need or a void that you’ve had for…well, forever, you just emotionally cling to it so hard, because you just need it so badly…but then its so scary at any tiny hint that it may not be what you thought, or that your pain is going to be repeated…and you just want to run, so fast and so far, almost being sure to leave destruction behind you because you are so set on protecting yourself and making it clear that no one will hurt you again; and so you hurt them instead.

Sigh. It wasn’t fun, but I think I got through this one ok? I’m not sure but I think I did all the right things. I can still feel myself going through all the phases of it all. I did the right things and yet somehow I feel so self-loathing, and ashamed. Very ashamed, and self-punishing. 😦

I’m still hanging on.


3 thoughts on “Put to the test

  1. It’s not supposed to be fun. If it were fun, Ryan Seacrest would produce a reality TV show for you and the best that would come of that is that you could afford $1,200.00 shoes and $3,000.00, and because you’re not that damned shallow, it still wouldn’t be fun. Especially with the paparazzi and TMZ starting rumors about you and Larry King.
    Damned thing is we often make it harder on ourselves than it needs to be. The knee-jerk reactions we’re entirely entitled to end up turning into Crusades, and everything gets more complicated and convoluted and confusing.
    And less fun, which should be obvious at this point.
    “… he texted me. I ignored it for a little while.” People do that after their first date, Mandi. I guess they still do. We used to do it all the time back in the Stone Age when we phoned each other ’cause we didn’t text.
    “If I call right back I’ll seem desperate and if I wait too long it’ll seem like I’m not interested and I don’t want to seem like I don’t care but I don’t want to come off as clingy….”
    How close to it am I?
    You understand BPD. You actually can see the Border right in front of you, taunting you, teasing you, tempting you. You thought enough to text your therapist before you let the Beast out of its cage. Both of those things are very good.
    If you want to give yourself a rash of shit about how you felt, why not just tell yourself “Snap out of it, girl!”, at which point I would hunt you down and chew your precious little ass out big time.

    It’s like one of those Michael Myers movies. “Friday the 13th Zombie Halloween” or whatever.
    Every time someone levels the son-of-a-bitch, he gets back up with the pitchfork stuck in his face and keeps going after the young ingénue.
    You watch this lame ass movie (Hitchcock knew how to do it right) and you know time and time again, the movie ain’t over yet, he’s gonna come flying out of the bathtub like Glenn Close in “Fatal Attraction”, and even when it actually is over…
    they’re already filming the sequel.

    I can’t tell you this enough, and it might come across as just more talk, but you’re, what? Twenty-eight? This started up, like, half a lifetime ago if not more?
    It ain’t going away in twelve hours.
    Don’t give up on yourself.
    You are allowed to be happy. Or upset. Or pissed. Or giddy.

    Don’t mean to get all Forrest Gump on you, but life is like a roller-coaster ride.
    BPD just put you in the front car.

    And, if you ask me, you did alright for yourself today.
    Should make it easier on the next hairpin curve.

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