Fuck

 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.


Dear roomie …

archer2


Let’s talk about sex ..

oh-yeah

I keep reading about how sex with a pwBPD = pornstar sex, addictive sex … the kind of sex that makes it hard to walk away and makes it oh-so easy to want to recycle.

Why is this?

I don’t know what it is like to have sex without having BPD. I always assumed that the sex I have is the sex that everybody has … but my pup (yes, he is back) has said a couple of things to me recently, as did my most recent ex, that make me think that perhaps I am a little bit too into sex.

And, yes, this is a problem.

As always, I am only speaking from my own experiences, but, all of the reading I have done of late seems to indicate that this is a BPD phenomena, feel free to disagree.

Sex is everything to me. It is the place/space whereby I know that I am the complete focus of the person I am with. It provides me with a time that I KNOW for certain that I can show my complete emotions without fear of being ‘too much’ (a constant fear). It is also the only time that I know for certain that my love is not leaving … he is with me for that moment and I feel free to both express myself and revel in his adoration. It is the only time I am whole, the only thing that matters. I am you and you adore me and that is everything; that is all that matters.

Yes, it’s fucked up.

The next morning brings about problems after such a blood-letting; it leaves everybody feeling raw and exposed … and quite often, this results in silence: how do find language to encapsulate what you have just experienced? Well, you don’t, you really, really don’t.

My experience is that the lover is either then all-in or, they run like a scared white rabbit.The problem is that anyone who doesn’t run is getting off on the supply that BPD sex provides and therefore,  has their own issues, it’s a nuclear disaster waiting to happen. Not everyone wants to be swallowed whole and those that do .. they have their own shit going on.

The next morning also brings the abandonment fears — what if that was the last time? What if you have changed your mind and I will never see you again? What if I was too much and you have to run? What. if?

In a perfect world, I would wake up in a lover’s arms and fall asleep to sweet nothings. Work, responsibilities, life, the universe — they would cease to exist. it’s not just the physical, it’s the feeling of being safe, if only for a moment.


Bored and lonely …

louisck

I am a bit of a hermit, well, a lot of a hermit. I don’t mind company at work or if I have someone I am interested in but most people just aren’t all that interesting to me and I usually have to resist the urge to stab them repeatedly in the face when they tell yet another tedious story …

I spend a lot of time watching film and TV, in fact, I chose to teach film/TV for years to justify my habit of watching so much film/TV. I mean, I can and quite often do watch an entire series of something in a day or 2 and then move to the next one. I am also prone to peppering everything I say with film/TV references and I feel very isolated when nobody gets the reference .. I don’t know how to talk to people who aren’t pop culture junkies.

I have ALWAYS been this way but recently, as in the last week or so .. I can’t self-soothe with media .. I am also bored and want to be out doing something. It’s kinda terrifying.

You know when you are percolating, waiting for that thing that always happens? You know, that thing that either makes everything wonderful or, lands you in protective custody?

It’s like walking a knife’s edge, and we all know it can go either way .. do you wake up safe and warm in your own bed or do you wake up in a different state, wondering wtf you did?

Tonight, it is like a dam waiting to burst.


Ode to B

I know you read .. so, I wanted to tell you how much I rely on your friendship and perspective ..

Sweet dreams ..xx


WTF is wrong with me?

I guess that is a rhetorical question.

I am currently pleasantly numb on vodka and unable to make good decisions.

I texted my pup (he came over on Monday to apologise for Saturday night and then on Monday too .. well, apologise again I guess).

Feeling lost and alone and ready to go out and see what life has in store.

Dammit. I sent a text .. I would never do such a stupid thing when I am sober.

BPD + alcohol is just .. not a good mix.

But, we knew that right?

drunkenamy

 


The boy down the road ..

A few weeks back I wrote here about the young guy I met at the local park. 

Since then, he has taken to coming over to visit me on Friday nights, usually already half-drunk and always wanting to spend an inordinate amount of time snuggling and cuddling and whispering strange things to me, often for hours at a time.

And while I can’t claim that it wasn’t lovely to hear someone tell me how attractive my smile/hair/boobs are, I was always a bit weirded out by how quickly he seemed to attach. I mean he was using the R-word and talking about how beautiful our babies would be .. you know, if I was younger, or, if he was older.

This all kinda came to a bit of a screeching halt last night because, well, it had to and also, he doesn’t like my dog. And he brought vodka over with him and we got drunk and I defended my dog and he basically said ‘it’s the dog or me’ (well, not quite that dramatic but it was close) and then he said that he wanted to spend time with me, not the dog … etc ..I had COMPLETELY forgotten how ridiculous 20-something guys can be. Everything is running in the red-zone at all times with this guy and it is super-draining. And utterly stupid.

Thing is, I had intended to tell him that we had to stop meeting-like-this because the age thing alone is just not on — but instead of really getting to say what I wanted to .. he kept kissing me and saying how much he wanted me but not the dog and while I spluttered and explained that my dog was far more loyal than any man has been … he ended up turning the tables and telling me that I could call him anytime and he would come over, once I had the dog sorted out ..

I am not sure who ended up dumping who (if that is even the word for it) but I started the evening with the intention of calling quits on he and I and ended up feeling rejected and kinda abandoned. Again.

I have no emotional attachment to this guy, I have only known him a month and I don’t think we have spent any sober time together in that month. And yet, my self-esteem feels like it has taken another battering.

Because, it’s perfectly natural to measure my self-worth via a boy I barely know who I was trying to get out of my life anyway because he wants to use me as a dumping ground for the emotional shit he is too terrified to have with women his own age and who manages to be threatened by a dog and who I am pretty sure has not been sober in a year or two — right? Yes, very healthy.

I was explaining to a good friend recently that I am like crack for emotionally/psychologically unstable men. I mean this one found me in a park and I allowed him into my life/bed without so much as a second thought. I seriously need to stop finding fucked-up men so alluring.

Off to hug my dog …


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