On being too much

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After a rather lovely weekend on valium, Monday is finally here.

Monday – where all the consequences of all the stupid stuff I have done over the past couple of weeks are going to land, hard.

I am not sure if I have the wherewithal to deal with what is already here, let alone what is coming.

The last 2 days have been a haze of benzos with intermittent research of how better to access a fatal artery because, I have tried to hit one of these 4/5 times in my life and (obviously) failed miserably. I am tired of failing.

Things are too far gone with me to contemplate starting over yet again. Because I know that I will pull myself up and try to build something only for it to be shot down at the first attachment that comes along. I am allergic to attachment .. it’s an actual thing I think. If there were awards for how to consistently fuck up relationships I would be a cause celebre’ … because I don’t learn. I never, ever learn.

I managed to convince myself that it was of vital importance that the pup not think I had self-harmed, I especially didn’t want him to think that I had self-harmed due to him. And, truth is, I didn’t. It wasn’t about him specifically, it was about allowing somebody in only to find, yet again, that even though he/they claimed constantly and sincerely to be completely into me, to want and adore me, to feel that there was ‘something about me’ drawing them in … when push came to reciprocation, he/they did not have my back.

I am perhaps being unfair to them all. I am perhaps needing for him/them to be able to do something they are not capable of. I know that having BPD makes my emotions run on nuclear level much of the time but I usually manage to hide this and I don’t ever ask for very much, I am usually far too terrified of putting people off to ask for much at all.  I was happy for the pup (for example) to bounce in and out of my life and it didn’t bother me that much where he was when he wasn’t with me. But his love bombing began to affect me and I began to wonder if perhaps this very damaged boy was a short-term answer — although, to what I am not sure.

So, I sent him a text yesterday … I told him I missed him a little and hoped he was doing OK. I was trying to act like all was OK, that any self-harm was not an issue . I think I wanted the shame of it all to be washed away. He called but the phone only rang once and that was that. A couple of hours later he sent the text saying that he hoped I was doing alright. Ouch.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

I responded by making light of the ‘missing’ … he never responded to that.

Ouch.

I don’t even know what my feelings are in all of this. I don’t love him, I do know that. Perhaps he was just a small oasis in the loneliness of a new city and a life that isn’t worth much right now. But, I did need him to show me that he has or had my back when it counted.

He doesn’t.

It saddens me that this is the case, yet again. I am unused to struggling with the politics of this stuff as my previous relationships (well, most of them) didn’t have this back and forth, to and fro going on. I am used to meeting somebody, we click, we begin seeing each other and it explodes at some point. But the ex and now the pup have shown me that the ‘easy’ time of meeting/colliding and everybody being on the same page, at least in the beginning, are long gone. I don’t know if it is because I am older and less desirable or if things have just become more fucked up between men and women, or maybe I am just more fucked up.

I am also tired of well-meaning social workers, psychiatrists, psychologists, nurses etc telling me how special and wonderful I am … do they know how unconvincing and patronising it all sounds when coming from somebody who hasn’t a clue who you are?

I just know that I am not ‘wonderful’ enough to maintain someone’s interest enough for them to even care just a little bit about what happens to me … not once they are let in … I am unsure if that speaks volumes about me or about them but it’s volumey …


The Wild One

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My last post was brief but indicated the way my weekend/week was headed: triggered to hell and a hospital visit.

There were a bunch of drugs, a shitload of alcohol, and visits back and forth from the pup. And by Sunday I was not in a good space, abandonment shit had kicked into overdrive and I ended up getting drunk and being in contact with my ex .. who suggested I go and see him to get some benzos to calm down with.

This was possibly one of the worst ideas I have followed through with in .. well .. ever, but I went took the pills, became even more fucked up and then walked out of the ex’s place pre-emptively.

The next day or so are a blur of more alcohol, some very shitty decisions and a binge on crystal meth .. it’s been years since I touched that stuff and now I remember why.

That was on Tuesday and I spent the day with the pup on and off, he was coming and going and  triggering the hell out of me in doing so. His final departure was when his (female) roomie called and he quite literally jumped out of bed and left me here. I finished off the bottle of bourbon we had bought and cut open my wrist … I was too out of it to get to a hospital or anything until Thursday and I spent the whole day/night there as I had severed a tendon that was too deep for local and had to go under a general for surgery. I had a few hours of psych evals and lied to assure them that it had not been a suicide attempt and that I am under the care of a private psychiatrist, she is just away right at this minute.

The pup called while I was waiting for theatre, but didn’t seem too concerned that I was and he was completely out of it — he turned up yesterday for a few minutes and proceeded to fill me in on the previous 2 days since I had seen him: he has not slept in 3 days, he had managed to piss off yet another person who drew a knife at some point (!!) and he was wired and out of control. I loaded him up with some Valium I had managed to get from a GP before I hit the hospital (no chance of getting them there without admittance) .. in fact, I am pretty sure that was the only reason he came over.

He asked me about my arm (nicely stitched and bandaged by that time) and then when I began to make excuses, he said something along the lines of it being my business …

It couldn’t be clearer that he just cannot take on board anything that is not directly feeding his completely out of control addictions. He is fired from jobs every week but is lucky enough to find work as his industry is in high demand .. he starts a new job, gets fired again, usually for either turning up drunk or drinking on the job.

On Tuesday, we sat for a few hours and had a really good talk about life and what he hopes to do and this is a person who has been so incredibly loving and sweet for all of this time .. until he pulls back and just .. isn’t anymore.

On Tuesday, I asked him to stay. I didn’t beg or plead or make a scene, I just needed him to stay. And fact is, he couldn’t even give me that. His path is even more self-destructive than mine and all I can do is stand aside and let him live it. I have seen and been involved with some very self-destructive men in my time but this boy is above and beyond anything I have experienced because it is every single day, non-stop. I don’t really understand how he isn’t dead or in hospital to be honest, he pisses people off wherever he goes and he fills his body with whatever is handy all day every day.

When he was going yesterday, he was talking about self-harm and said that he didn’t get it. Then he said he hurt other people rather than himself although, he ‘cuts himself on the inside every single day’.

I wonder where the boy who wanted to lie for hours and tell me how much he liked me has gone .. I wonder why even though this ‘thing’ of ours is more-than doomed, it feels like the end of the world that he doesn’t love me. Most of all, I wonder what it is about me that excites men in the short-term but doesn’t last … the very second i start to feel attached, even though they have usually dragged me to that point, they pull away.

Like my ex, the pup isn’t capable of loving anything but his own preoccupations, I just wish that I could take that on board and that it wasn’t so important to me.

I have a brand new scar now, my second for the year. I don’t know how many stitches and it doesn’t matter other than when the bandage comes off and everyone will see, will be able to count the exact amount of just deep my attachment tendencies are killing me.


Ummmm

So .. my post on attachment went to hell, just in a different way than expected.

Past 24 hours has been a bit of a blur but involved Lebanese drug dealers, a very cool drag club with the LARGEST trannies I have ever seen … being thrown out of a casino and a hefty amount of coke and alcohol. Oh, and I dropped and broke my phone .. shit is all kinds of fucked up, I can’t even answer calls. Although, that is not necessarily a bad thing.

I am at home, alone, completely wired and therefore manic again ..

But, I digress.

Will be back with the post on attachments. Possibly with more to say than I did yesterday.


A caveat

 

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 I was chatting to my friend B this morning ..

or rather, he was trying to absorb my somewhat manic state and we got onto the subject of attachment because, that is what has triggered the manic state; my attachment/s. And so, I thought I would post some of what we talked about here in an attempt to explain why even though many people seem to have abandonment ‘issues’ .. it’s different for  those of us with BPD.

Now .. a caveat before I begin to write in earnest: I am heading out very shortly to buy a large amount of vodka. I am then going to drink the entire bottle of said vodka and resist the urges to phone/text/viber/email/visit any and all exes and writing this post is one way I am going to do that — however, this process will possibly probably definitely be affected by both the consumption of my lovely bottle of liquid fuck-you-I-don’t-care and my increasing desire to act on my all-too-triggered desire to call someone begging and pleading for them to come and hug me right that second. I pretty much envision a slow disintegration of spelling and syntax until it reaches the point where I am just writing words and hoping they eventually form a sentence of some sort. It is what it is.

We interrupt this program because the boy down the road has turned up.

He is drunk and belligerent and I have the feeling it’s gonna get fucked up.

PS: yes, I am drunk.


Before the storm …

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I have been in a weird place this past couple of weeks.

I am no longer depressed in any way (although I have been self-harmy at times) and because I am no longer depressed, I am no longer sleeping 90% of the day. So I am bored and my boredom is growing and that never ever ends well. Often in ends with criminal charges, hehe .. just kidding .. kinda.

Some of my worst-ever train-wreck experiences have come from this feeling. Not knowing what I want to do or where I want to go but feeling the overwhelming need to get out there and experience something — ANYTHING but the grey sludge of work/sleep/eat … I can’t take much more of feeling trapped.

Usually, I can watch something and pass the time/settle down but I have not been able to for days. Nothing is grabbing my attention. I can’t stand being bored anymore. I cannot sleep effectively and I am running the entire spectrum of emotions on an hourly basis.

Something most definitely has to give.


Sometimes, shit just happens

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After the debacle of last Monday, and telling the pup to never contact me again, 

I have been struggling a little bit with the resultant abandonment stuff but, I have been determined to put that dramarama behind me and prove to myself that I don’t need to create this stuff in my life, trying to be all level-headed and reasonable. (OK, so my way to ‘reasonably’ disconnect from and stop thinking about the pup was to be in contact with my last ex — who seriously screwed me over– for some soothing, so, so far the plan to be level-headed isn’t looking all that great but hey .. baby steps huh?).

But, I was walking down to the local store about an hour ago and I ran smack bang into the pup. Incredible. we live close by but apart from the very first time we met, at the local park, we have never, ever run into each other .. ever.

He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a hug and we mumbled about how awkward this was which made it more awkward and then some other stuff and then, he asked if we could catch up “sometime .. yes? no? maybe?” and I just sorta nodded and he then said that I have his number and I responded that he also had mine. He kissed me on the cheek again and said to text him.

Seriously last thing I needed. I was really struggling with the ending of this little ‘thing’ of ours and this has not helped.

Thing is, I did NOTHING to generate this. It. just. happened.

And, just in case this post reads like I am in any way calm or collected about this, let me disabuse you: emotions are on red alert and I have already begun to run it all through my head over and over and over again. A chance meet and I am completely thrown off my game. Again. Actually, scratch that, I don’t have a game, my copy of the rule book was eaten by trolls or something.

I will not text the pup.

I will not text the pup.

I will not text the pup.


It’s a relational disorder, after all.

 

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Things have been pretty fucked up in my personal life since forever these past few weeks. Seriously fucked up. 

I have written about the stuff with the pup and the awful guy from work but today I did the unimaginable; I contacted the ex. Yes, the same ex who sent me to the Er and lockdown in a psych ward. The same ex who cheated and lied and abandoned and discarded like his entire life depended upon it. I should add that I was about 2/3 the way through a bottle of scotch at the time (but you knew that right?).

I was determined to past the pup tonight, I was feeling shitty about him not trying to contact me (yes, I am completely aware that I told him to never contact me again but that is besides the point .. it still felt like abandonment).

The ex and I traded messages on Viber for a while — I don’t really ‘get’ viber –is it a poor man’s skype? I use it because my darling friend B doesn’t have skype because he is weird and has a windows phone but other than that .. I just don’t get it. But I digress.

The ex and I vibered (is that a thing?) and he was polite and stand-offish and I was about to call a halt to the entire proceedings and then he began messaging in earnest and we began reminiscing about the nazi Norwegian/French douchebag that we used to share a house with and it kinda escalated and he called.

And we talked for about an hour.

To be honest, I think it triggered him far more than me … he softened over the course of the hour and told me that he has been to get evaluated by some psychs and is working on getting off his benzos because they had shut him down emotionally. He insists that he was shut down while he was in the house we shared and that he is trying to face up to the shit he does, such as lying.

The weird thing is that he said he never thought he would get to talk to me again because of ‘what he did’. No, the weird thing is that he asked me to spend a weekend with him hanging out. No, the really weird thing is that early on in our chat he asked me if I was mad at him for calling the ambulance when I was passed out and bleeding to death.

Actually, it was all just weird.

What is most disconcerting is that this all feels more desirable than free-falling into a void where I am left only with my own thoughts and nowhere to anchor all of the emotions that I am racing through.


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