Tag Archives: shit people say

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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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

images
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 …


It’s not you, it’s most DEFINITELY me

spying

I am still entirely pissed off at being accused of being in love with my pup-from-down-the-road.

I don’t quite get why/how he gets to spend the best part of 2 months being completely overboard with his gushings and then somehow turn it around to think that indicates that I have feelings for him. Honestly. Men.

Thing is, I do attach to people. I have an attachment disorder, that’s kinda how that works. And yes, I do get used to having people/men be in my life in some capacity and I then get anxious that they will disappear. But it is completely contextual in that just because I am attached, that does not mean I am in love.

Now, I may have a PD that makes intimate relationships all kinds of fucked up and I may attach quite thoroughly due to this, and that may make it seem like I am giving you and only you 100% of my attention but, gentleman, please believe me when I say that a girl with BPD can be completely attached to your penis and your cuddles and your sugar without really wanting anything to do with the rest of you. And the thought of getting you anywhere other than into my bed is about as far from my thoughts as you can get. I am pretty sure I am not alone here. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Not all women are that into you. And not all women want to end up married to you. ***END SPOILER ALERT***

None of this was actually the point of this post .. I am just still feeling annoyed and abandoned and more annoyed because I don’t really care that the pup has abandoned me, I just, you know, care that he has abandoned ME.

The point of the post was a guy from work who came over on Friday night to cook dinner/bring me a bottle of vodka, which I finished off pretty damn quickly. He drank some wine — too much to drive and so, I told him to bunk with me (I HAVE to stop doing that!!!).

In the morning, he seemed to think we are now **special** friends and I am kinda freaked out by this as I really have no attraction to him whatsoever. He was lying in my bed telling me how he has long desired my breasts from afar at work and this was just fucking creepy. He has been texting about how wonderful our night was and has said that wants me to be able to rely on him in times of crisis; that he wants to help with the shit going on in my life, not add to it. How fucking patronising is that?

I actually think I prefer being stranded in Kings Cross by a pretty pup who was too wasted to remember that he had brought me along — at least I didn’t feel like I needed a shower afterwards and it had a touch of honesty to it.

My first instinct with all of this shite going on is to pack my suitcase and leave the state — but I have spent the last day or so trying to figure out how and why I keep ending up in strange situations with even stranger men. And this is certainly not the first phase in my life where this has happened.

Is it a borderline thing?


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.


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 …