Tag Archives: angst

Any words of wisdom?

batphone

Things are still very hectic…

what with the house-hunting, zero internet connection to do said house-hunting, avoiding A’s place even though it has all of my stuff there and being out and about all day every day dealing with paperwork and more paperwork. I am exhausted.

I woke up yesterday to a text from the Pup saying that this was his last text (no credit) and did I want to hang? I answered that I was busy until lunchtime but would be in touch … a couple of hours later, he walked to a payphone and did one of those sms thingies to ask me to call.

So I did.

And he said he wanted me to call back in a couple of hours so we could catch up.

Oooo-kayy.

So I did.

And he then apologised, told me that he was actually tired from not sleeping and had to work the next day and so, could we catch up in the next day or so instead?

Umm. He texted and called me and he asked to hang and I was left feeling like I had chased him … it’s games again and I am tired of those.

People around me do not want me near this guy. He is playing games (although I am not sure if this is intentional or not) and he has done a couple of shitty things so, I don’t know what I am doing with all of this.

My BPD is triggered in sexual/intimate RS’s … I get caught up/attached/confused and I lose the ability to think or see straight – the Pup has already pulled that trigger in me and I am not in a hurry to go back to that space. I am actually doing OK at the moment, in fact, if I had money, I would be doing great.

I started writing this post because I wanted to write out exactly what I am hoping for, thinking, wanting or expecting from seeing the Pup again. Friends have said that I have gotten ‘back together’ with the Pup but, he and I were never ‘together’ in the real sense … I don’t know what we are .. and that is the problem I think; my BPD cannot tolerate the uncertainty of RS’s and this thing between him and I has zero future. That is not a healthy combo for me but I still enjoy him and hanging out with him. I am still attracted to him.

I don’t want to let go but I don’t know how to clarify things with him without triggering him as well.

Anybody out there with words of wisdom?

 

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Saturday (illustrated version)

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Barefoot in Kings Cross.

 

Today was a flat-out day trying to navigate the labyrinth that is Sydney Metro Transport.

It didn’t help that a few of the rail lines were down and had to be supported by buses (every friggin’ week they are working on a line) which made everything take that much longer. Extremely frustrating and this only escalated when I was walking along Kings Cross and tripped and broke my shoe – I was convinced I wouldn’t get out of there without contracting some strand of hepatitis from standing on something sharp.

I was down that way looking at a studio which allows pets. I am trying to find something that:

A: I can afford

B: Allows dogs

[CUE CANNED LAUGHTER].

The trip home was barefoot until I could find a shop that had both my size (I have long feet) and style and I am actually pretty happy with my new shoes so, that was a boon.

The disgusting old junkie who inherited a house only to lose every possession in it and let it fall into ruin around him.

It took the entire day to navigate the rail/bus/rail/bus/rail/bus fiasco and when I got home my new short-term roomie suggested that we go and get some drugs to alleviate the heat (it was bloody hot here today huh?) and the pending boredom and I didn’t take much convincing. I went with the temp roomie (A) to collect our goodies and got a first-hand look at what someone who has done drugs for 50 years looks and lives like when we arrived. I was completely freaked out by this guy and the worse part? He wasn’t the dealer, his niece was so, he was begging me for a bit of what A and I bought …. And he talked non-stop about how great is life was before he discovered drugs; how successful he used to be when he was young … it was entirely depressing and my opinion of how it would have been awesome to meet William Burroughs before he died was irrevocably altered.

The Park

Back home, I decided to go and see the neighbours who have been looking after my dog to try and beg their forgiveness that my hospital stay exceeded the promised 3 days. So, I went back to where I used to live.

And then things got a bit messy and weird.

When I got there, I was wired and feeling anxious about facing these poor people who have been so lovely to me and my dog. I was really stressed in hospital about them having to continue to take care of her and so I decided to smoke at the park for half an hour before facing them.

Then I sent the Pup a text — yes, I know, I know — I actually wanted to talk to him quickly about something non-personal for 10 minutes and tried to explain that I just wanted to see him quickly if he was free but it wasn’t urgent. We texted a few times and he kept asking what it was about and I said I didn’t want to get into it on the phone and then he just. stopped responding even though he had just said he would be back nearby in 20 minutes.

When he stopped texting, I decided to just call him and he didn’t answer. This triggered me completely of course. Knowing him, he was completely paranoid about the possibilities of what I wanted to talk about, put 2 and 2 together and came up with 22,349 and freaked out but I was upset that he just ignored me, he has never done that before and we had been still friendly texting for the past 2 weeks every 4-5 days. So he is officially an asshat.

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I finally left the park and walked up to see my ex-neighbours, well, I knocked on the door, and they weren’t home. This wouldn’t normally be a crisis but my dog was locked inside and she had realised it was me knocking …. I felt like such a terrible person. Triggered a little bit more and feeling like a really crappy person who has abandoned the most loyal friend she has in the world and who is so unlovable that the (kinda) ex who was so very into her not one month ago cannot even be bothered to answer a call from her anymore he is so NOT into her now because she is disgusting and pathetic and just plain sad really.

I eventually ended up being in the park for around 4 hours all up. On a Saturday night. High as a kite, triggered and no idea where to go as my temporary roomie was out of it and a little scary for being so.

Luckily my lovely B took a call from me and talked it all through with me, or rather allowed me to rant at him while he listened patiently and reassured me that the pup is bat-shit crazy and not acting like a decent person and it wasn’t me being the human/ex repellent that I felt like I was/am. I’m pretty sure I was repeating myself over and over and I know for a fact that I was already repeating stuff B had heard before. I kinda love B.

Sam

Eventually, I got off the phone, deleted the Pup’s number and grabbed a train back to the connecting bus to A’s place (I don’t really want to call it a flat/unit/apartment as it is the most filthy thing I have ever seen). I was too late for a connecting bus and grabbed a cab instead. The cab driver asked how my day had been and I told him it had been a bit weird. He asked me why and I gave him a very brief outline and he acted really interested and asked questions and we got talking.

When we pulled up to A’s place, he asked if I was up for taking a drive and I said “sure”.

We drove around for about 2 hours, he asked me about what type of men I like, what I like about relationships, if I believed in love etc .. not the most original questions ever thrown at me or any other woman on the planet ….. it was odd but, he was nice enough overall and, to be honest, I was high enough and pissed off enough by the Pup to want to see exactly where this next young ‘un (a bit older than the Pup but not by much) was going to take things, or try to.

He actually drove to all of these dark little alcoves and parks, the kind of locations that are earmarked as ideal locations for making slasher films … but, he was perfectly polite the whole time. I asked if we could stop so I could smoke and he drove for a few minutes before pulling over and I was dumbstruck to see that he had driven to the park I had spent the 4 hours in …. Full fucking circle. I swear that park will haunt my Sydney life – it was where I originally met the Pup if you recall and it is now where the Pup refused a call from me for the first time. I am considering setting fire to it but, some basic Googling internet research has revealed that apparently, it is “illegal” to set fire to public parks, or, pretty much anything. Who knew?

Anyway … I eventually told the cab driver – Sam —  that I am working in the morning and I need to get home (I’m not). Along the way, he is trying, just a little, to see if I was open for something to go down between us. He was trying to be a bit sexy and definitely not pulling it off, he was so cheesy that it was almost laughable and I am sure he would have found it so as well if he was privy to the shit-storm that has been brewing in my life this year when it comes to men.

I got out of the cab, we exchanged “lovely to meet you” (s) and that, was that.

The home invasion

Around 4am, there was a bang on the door here. My temp roomie was in bed and I was attempting to sleep because I had not had any sleep for 47 hours at that point. Temp roomie (A) got up and answered and this HUGE young pup (not mine) barreled in and started demanding cigarettes and being generally obstreperous – he was actually really scary, very drunk and obviously pissed at A about something.

The young guy was around 6’4 to A’s 5’10 and they are both built like bouncers – given that this is the tiniest flat in the western hemisphere and every square inch is covered with dirty plates, ashtrays, bric-a-brac and furniture and I was lying on a sofa bed that takes up 60% of the room when open, this little confrontation was enclosed, loud and pretty damn scary.

The bouncer/pup had a serious bone to pick and was screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs. He had with him a tiny little blonde of around 19 who was wearing, well, nothing really and he kept turning around and slapping her on the arse and asking Artie if he ever “gets quality ass like that”. She, for her part, stole cigarettes off the table and tried to yell over the top of the bouncer pup that “let’s gooooooo” … “I wanna goooo” and smiling whenever the bouncer pup referred to her arse.

It was like a cross between The Godfather and Jersey Shore.

This all dragged out for a good 20 minutes, which is a damn long time when you are lying in a sofa bed holding your breath, waiting for an explosion and trying not to make any sudden movements to trigger said explosion.

It ended with the bouncer pup putting an axe to A’s throat and threatening to come back if A’s ‘crime’ against him was ever repeated. Obviously this is the short version but the point is that however terrifying, no blood was spilled (although both A and I possibly peed a little).

It was just an odd day.

And after paying A’s rent for a week and supplying cigarettes and stuff, I have dipped into what little money I have and really need to stay here for the week rather than fork out for other short-term accommodation.

But I seriously need outta here.


Leaving …

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This should be a catch-up post as I have been gone for a couple of weeks. The reason for my absence is that I was in hospital. Coming to that conclusion was probably not too far a stretch for anyone who checks in here regularly.

I am not going to write out the story of how I managed to evade hospitalisation on a Friday night 2 weeks ago even though I was sectioned for a few hours only to end up being admitted on the following Monday. I’m also not going to describe the people, food or surroundings that is the psychiatric hospital experience; many of you have been there and I think those descriptions/stories can wait …

For the record, I am still homeless. I have been out of hospital less than 24 hours, I am missing my dog like crazy, and I am staying with what appears to be a mid-level drug dealer who seems intent on using up the (very) little money I have on smokes and other niceties .. actually, that isn’t a fair description of him but I have the feeling this little rooming arrangement, which is to be a week or so at the most, is going to be a post of its own so, I will also come back to that.

A rather large amount of writing stating what I am not going to write about, and this is how I feel: gluggy, unsure, kinda shell-shocked and most definitely at crossroads.

The hospital has put me on anti-psychotic meds and they are doing their job – I am most certainly not psychotic but I don’t think I ever was.

The medicated me is the one who comes to accept. She accepts that the world is basically boring, ordinary, predictable, manufactured and she quietly gets in line with everybody else to do/be/have/make/know the ‘correct’ way to live and to love.

I prefer the other me, the one who screams ‘fuck that’ at acceptance and struggles to find a different way, even if she does fail most of the time.

I don’t understand myself on meds, I don’t understand how the me who rages at the banality of the world can possibly allow herself to just lie down .. to accept. Yes, my life becomes easier, more comfortable, more safe …. Is that what we should be striving for? Comfort and safety? I am terrified of losing me to the meds; of accepting/wanting … comfort and safety.

Trying to write this post even feels like a struggle, like writing through glue.

I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to be OK with this fucked-up and narcissistic, money worshipping culture that is populated by assholes.

Fuck it.


Blurry memories

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I’m sad today that the last memory I take with me from the Pup-who-lives-down-the-road is him refusing to hug me when we were saying our goodbye. It had been a tough day for us both and we were really struggling to communicate, but just like the previous ex, there seemed to be a need to inflict humiliation. I really hate that this is my memory of him. The boy who couldn’t get enough of me got more than he bargained for or wanted .. .

I have nothing else that seems tangible except a picture I took to show my friend B how this rather presumptuous young pup had stolen my bed and all I wanted to do was drink his vodka … I never took any other pictures.

It’s only been a few weeks and I can barely recall what he looked like. And that seems so very sad.


No more delusions please …

I am still really stuck on the horrible email exchange from the other night between the ex and myself. 

I am not sure if being told that the year we spent sharing each other was, really, nothing more than a fuck in a toilet or, if being called delusional for trying to find some peace and sincerity from that year despite what happened (what he did) is what is affecting me the most.

I think it’s the delusional part.

I don’t think anybody has ever said anything so intentionally cruel to me …


Why exes fucking suck.

rottenecard_
I recently mentioned my inadvertent visit to my ex last Sunday

You know, the one who ripped my still-beating heart out of my chest last November by dumping me 9 days after I flew 4000kms to be with him?? This happened because I was triggered from the pup. I reached out to the ex, he was keen to hear from me, we talked on the phone for a couple of hours, we skyped, we flirted a bit and he asked me to come and see him … but .. it ended up with me being extremely drunk (well, I had been drinking all day at that point), loaded with xanax (courtesy of the ex) and walking out of the his house with a ‘fuck this’ in his general direction. I don’t even remember getting home. I am still completely stunned that he let me leave in that condition but … not the point.

Point is, about a week had elapsed and I figured I would do the right thing and email to apologise for my behaviour and also to let him know that I had had a dream about him that was actually kinda sweet and when I woke, I realised that although I am far, FAR from over the damage he has inflicted, said damage is not stitched to him anymore; that I was able to look to him with some detachment and warmth, and I wanted to share that with him.

I didn’t actually really expect to hear back from him as he really hates it when I /anybody is drunk and I was reaaaaallllllly drunk so, I figured that he would be too disgusted to get back to me.

But he did …. hoboy .. did he.

What follows are the slightly redacted-for-the-purposes-of-protecting-the-privacy-of-those-involved but this is almost word for word what was exchanged. I include it all for entertainment purposes only and to remind everyone out there: DO NOT CONTACT YOUR EX … EVER .. NEVER, EVER.

EVER.

On with the show

My original email

Hey.

I’m having somewhat of a day of reckoning (as far as such things go) and I
didn’t want to bother you (on the one hand) but, I just woke up from a
dream (thank you barking doggie) and although I am certainly not one to attribute
real life in terms of fate or dreams or the sight of 4 ravens on the
fence, but I had a smoke and decided to write this.

I am sorry about what happened when I went to see you. To be completely
honest, I have very little memory of it except I know I was already drunk
and had leftover coke in my system and it kinda divebombed from there.

Fact is, I really needed somebody to just be there that day and I am
extremely grateful that you tried to be, even if I did fuck it up.

Things actually got progressively worse after I left you. The Monday and
Tuesday of last week were are a blur .. there was a bucketload of more
alcohol and some crystal meth and too much sex and then the inevitable
crash. I ended up in surgery on Thursday night but only because a guy from
work called, got antsy when I didn’t answer the call and came over here to
make sure I was OK. I really wasn’t.

This past year or so … ever since going home from Sydney last year …
have just triggered me beyond belief. And yes, that is tied to and started
with you but it is too far along now to keep using that as a reason. I
keep letting men, or in this current case, a boy into my life who simply
are not capable of doing the right thing and I don’t know why I am drawn
to that, or how to stop it happening but it kinda began with you.

This latest boy has spent a couple of months professing all kinds of thing
to me and chasing me like I was the last woman on earth. I think the sex
was a big part of that (!!), he seemed pretty addicted to that part, but
it went beyond that. And for the first month or so I was not bothered by
any of it. he was very pretty and very sweet and entirely fucked up ..
just my type really. But he is very fucked up even by my standards, and
between the drugs and the alcohol and the going out all the time (every
night) and the losing of jobs weekly .. he just doesn’t stop and it has
been exhausting even watching him from the sidelines.

But he also kept at me emotionally until I began to get attached .. and,
of course, that is when the problems start. I don’t really understand it,
I didn’t want or need the emotional crap, but he pushed and pushed .. I
don’t really get it at all [name]. But I know emotions are not your big
thing so, perhaps I am asking a large brown bear why life is so hard and
expecting answers there. But, I don’t really get why men want to drag me,
sometimes kicking and screaming into the emotional and then look at me
dumbfounded when they find themselves looking into the abyss. He can be
the sweetest of men when he is just here, with me, but the demons he is
running from override everything constantly and he crushes and destroys
everything in his path. Ending up in surgery last week was almost
inevitable really.

I understand that you don’t have any answers for me, nor do you owe me any
.. I’m not asking for them really. But as I said, I had this dream … and
it involved you: it was at my sister’s house and I was in a very large bed
and, for some reason you were there to.

You kind of reached for me with your hand and we had this delicate moment
of intertwining hands and just resting next to each other and I felt very
safe and warm … I NEVER have dreams such as this. I have sex dreams but
even they turn violent at some point. I have perhaps had similar like this
but I don’t ever recall one if I have. I guess I wanted to say both that I
am sorry and that my thoughts of you are somehow tied to the person that I
was before I met you. I am no longer that woman, perhaps I never really
was .. I am not sure, but I found her again in that dream.  I figure that
you tried to teach me not to be so trusting and to try and not put my
emotional self on the line so much .. well, maybe you didn’t try to teach
me that but it is what I should have learned from you, I just didn’t.

This is all a very long-winded way for me to try and say that I am both
sorry for what I did and that I am kinda afraid that I won’t ever get the
chance to say that to you if I don’t do it now. I’m pretty sure that you
don’t really want to hear any of this but perhaps one day you will be able
to read it with the intent of which it is being written.

You see, it doesn’t really matter to me how or when you lied to me or
about what. Not any more. I am pretty sure that there were moments, even
for you, where it wasn’t lies. I am indescribably bad at untangling the
difference between what a man is telling me and what he really means and
that is definitely going to be the end of me it seems. But, at this last
juncture, I just want you understand how very much you meant to me during
all of that time, and how, even now, when I think of you, I do so with
warmth. I have shaken off the shame and embarrassment of having loved you
when you felt no such thing for me, I can live more easily with that these
days.

I have no epiphany to end this with, so I am just going to end it. It is
what it is. But I hope you can forgive me my trespass one day, I am lost
and struggling and I am sorry that you wore some of that.

I hope you are doing OK with your xanax withdrawal and that you find some
answers to how, if at all that affected you.

I am reluctant to say goodbye in this email because it really feels like
goodbye this time.

[me]
xx

His response #1

Hi [me],

The thing is, despite what you might think, benzodiazepines don¹t dull my
senses and/or emotions.
I¹ve always been this way – as far back as I can recall.

Your childhood was frought with abuse and abandonment so these are both
characteristics you¹ve inherited and at the same time, struggle to oppose.

For years I felt that blaming one¹s parents was a total cop-outŠ until I
came back to live in Sydney.
My upbringing wasn¹t as obviously traumatic as yours.
My parents were emotionally cruel but in very VERY sly, slow and subtle
ways. This was a very slow and systematic form of abuse where there just
was a total void of love, affection and strength.
They trained me not to love – not invest in people – not to invest in
myself and the result is a loner who jumps from person to person – from
woman to woman and I can¹t defend myself from any criticism about that
aspect of meŠ but I¹m trying to see when it starts happening and to break
it when it begins.

There really only was one moment between you and me: to act out the very
first fantasy that took place on [redacted] Road in the toilet of the
overgrown house. That was the eternal moment. It literally began and ended
there. It¹s really ³really² harsh. A true sodomal rape fantasy that was
successfully carried out and completed exactly as it was dreamed up.

I sacrificed everything for that one moment and once I had, there was no
turning back on any track.
Nothing else between you and I would ever compare to that one moment again
– but like any addictive drug, one hunts the moment of clarity down again
and again.

Without trying to seem pompous or to tell you what to do, I would strongly
suggest getting on back to [hometown] and returning back to your role as a
[my old job], because your future here will be one of diminishing returns. The
Cross is not fantastic – to burst your bubble for one moment here. It¹s
all fairy light and cockroaches. You¹ll wind up living with people who
will squeeze you out of everything and develop a nasty habit which you
won¹t be able to kick, and from there on, a downward spiral into
homelessness. It¹s too easy – once you¹ve kicked the job and succumbed to
Sydney¹s reality.

Go back to lovely [place I am from and do my old job]. That gave you (I
think) a vast amount of self-satisfaction – quite independent of other
people¹s views and life styles. You still have all your stuff there in
storage, and let¹s not forget the iMac.

I really appreciate all the things you¹ve done for me and helped me out
with. That hasn¹t been forgotten, and, last weekend, when you told me you
were freaking out, I simply wanted to give you a portion of drugs that
would help you cool off and sleep. That was all I had in mind.

But I¹m not the same person you met, and you¹re not the same either – but
be that as it is, I truly feel Sydney is sink holeŠ cleverly disguised as
someŠ culture hub.

We can keep in touch, yet no more delusions please.

Cheers [me],

[him]

My response

I was actually just reaching out as a friend, or for a friend .. someone who knows me a little here and to let you know that I had a dream that  made me realise that I still think or thought of you warmly.
So, yes, I am definitely a little lost and definitely in need of a warm body and release.. but that was all it was. I don’t love you anymore, I got over that quite some time ago. 
I am astounded at  your response and your referral to me as delusional … I’m not at all sure what I was being delusional about or with or to … 
Your email could not have come at a worse time today … but thank you for telling me how it is and always was. 
His final response
Yeah – you always do this [me].
You make out that you were only trying to reach out and then whatever I say is obviously wrong and misconstrued and then you just contradict it at every point.
I honestly can’t be fucked anymore.
Play that game anyway you want.
It’ll be met with silence next time.
_____________________________
So … that all went well huh?
Time with the pup also  went pretty much as I thought it would. A bit if a hit n run session whereby we got high and then he asked me a lot of questions — a few about my arm and what ‘actually’ happened, but whenever I tried to answer him, he cut me off or changed the subject or proceeded to lecture me on the evils of drugs or some such thing.

He was incredibly patronising about how ‘everyone’ has dark days and I should enjoy the sunshine and wonderful day and not let ‘shit get to me’. I then got a lecture  about the dangers of drug use and how I should spend some time ‘thinking’ about my life .. sometimes, there just aren’t words …


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 …