And She Does.
Me and Her had a gigantic argument. I wouldn’t say I won, but She did see it my way.
I don’t want to get into how this complex argument started, but know this, if you don’t already: sometimes the anger of someone with BPD is justified. The problem is in how much anger.
She tried to tell me She was “accepting” certain faults I have and not getting mad at me over them. But I did something over the line and it was inexcusable. She did get mad at me over my anger at myself, something that was both excusable AND justified.
I wanted Her to be mad at me for what I did. I wanted to know She wasn’t somehow resigned to my bullshit. I needed to know that She knew I was better than that sort of thing.
I couldn’t believe it took Her that long to see what I was trying to say about this. What I did was disgusting, uncivilized. At times, Her reticence to anger almost seems like its own emotional issue.
She had to say ” You need me to be mad at you”. At which point Her being mad at me would be pointless.
She still tried and She said ” You’re better than that”. Argument over. But my mind staggers at how long it took Her to get there.
They say “self-compassion” and “cutting yourself slack” is better than self-esteem” but there is “slack” and there is “not living up to basic, very basic standards of living”. I’m better than that. There are things to be angry about. I’ve spent the majority of my life living under the roof of people who didn’t let me have my emotions. I’m not going to let this be a repeat of that.
Paranoia.
I found the blog post I “lost”. It posted to my other blog that I AM TRYING TO DELETE SO THIS NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN.
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I can no longer believe that the universe is not out to harm me in someway. Yes, this is a full and complete admission of the kind of paranoia that lands people in psychiatric care facilities. It is also true. I can no longer believe that the universe is not out to harm me in someway.
Things got so bad on Friday that I asked “whoever it was that was fucking with me” to finally give me a sign. I was desperate. I wanted to know, once and for all, that I was being fucked with by the Universe. Less than six hours later,I got my answer: the Universe was indeed fucking with me.
I do not believe in karma. In fact, if you believe that some kind of twisted form of “justice” or “karmic retribution” is a central organizing principle in the machinations of the Universe, I don’t just question your intelligence or your sanity, I question your very consciousness. The most rudimentary look at the state of the world shows that, even if you take into account that karma might be weird or that karma plays the long game the way grandmasters play chess, there simply is no such thing as karma. The universe as a whole does not tend towards justice. It never has and it never will.
I’ve taken comfort in that fact. I comfort in the idea that I am not really being punished for anything that I have done wrong to others.
I recently drove a truck I owned into the ground. My current job is in delivery so I need to have a working truck. So I asked my father if I could have the money to get a used truck. He could not spare much but he did give me enough to make a purchase. I proceeded to buy a truck that simply was not any good. I liked it at first but the small problems that were advertized got worse. Eventually, all the problems hit at once. It sits in the garage. My girlfriend let me use hers for a few days and then she told me (on one of the worst days of my life) to pick her up from work early (thus ruining my ability to do what I needed to do for work and take her to where she could look at some cars. Sitting in the parking lot of her job, I asked the Universe to give me a sign if it was really fucking with me. For real, I verbalized this, while trying to hold back from crying.
That day, my girlfriend signed papers to finance a car that two days later she realized she would have a very hard time affording. My crappy job with crappy pay would be the source of most of our disposable income until I got a new job.
There’s more to this story, like the fact that I was going to quit my job to look for a job that made me less miserable and now I can do no such thing, but I STILL need to look for a better job while in this soul-crushing nightmare. And there’s a few other tid0bits, but mostly what I wanted to say is this:
KARMA, ONE FOR BRIEF MOMENT, DECIDED TO EXIST FOR ME AND WHEN IT DID, IT TOTALLY FUCKED ME IN THE ASS WITH A CONCRETE DILDO AND NO LUBRICATION.
I asked So, now I know. Now I know that the Universe is fucking with me. I am rightly paranoid.
When I realized that my girlfriend buying a car was the sign from the Universe that it was fucking with me, I got suicidal. I’ve never been so suicidal really.
And then I realized that this is all just information. The Universe really IS fucking with me. It’s a true, no foolins, scientifically provable fact. So: from now on, anyone telling me otherwise can shove it.
But also: if I know this, I can do something about this. The Universe started this fight. The Universe tried to make me into its bitch. The Universe tried to do a weird experiment to see just how fucking miserable a person could be made before that snapped, gave in, stayed in bed and never moved again. The Universe wanted and still wants to break my spirit.
I SAY FUCK THE UNIVERSE.
And She can.
Haven’t had a major breakdown since Thursday. Been mostly upbeat and nearly happy. I’ve also been productive but not frantically so.
But She still can get to me and that DOES worry me.
My BPD is still only self-diagnosed, but it still makes perfect sense of my life. That said, I’ve never been too uncomfortable alone. I’m mostly uncomfortable around people. I’m worried that they will make me feel horrible.
And She can.
Feeling this good alone and feeling bad together is driving me away from her. And that is not something I can deal with right now.
Ugh.
She sees everything and points out most of it. I don’t want this to be a trigger (because I know I miss stuff), but that was the way my parents constantly made me feel four-years-old the whole time I lived with them. It’s fucked that she needs to and it’s fucked that she does.
But we’re gonna talk and soon. I’ve kept my mouth shut on this for days, but maybe if I tell her how good I feel, she’ll be open to hearing about it.
(Note: She’s been very supportive of me in my recovery from this condition. She’s actually the one who told me that I might be BPD. For that and more, I am grateful. She’s not an enemy in this and any insinuation she is will not be welcome here.)
Unlike anything I’ve felt
I spent twelve years not knowing my problem or its name. I had people around me I treated badly. I had missed and outright squandered opportunities. My life is not in a terribly good place because until two months ago, I didn’t know my problem or its name.
I have a friend who is dealing with the death of a friend. It happened five months ago and the emotions swirling around his death led to the dissolution of a relationship and a long friendship. She is already in therapy. It took me so, so much more than that.
I don’t think I am in recovery. I don’t even think I’m in remission. It’s only been two days. But I am so much better. I don’t want to lose this feeling. This feeling of normal is the best I’ve felt in twelve years, at least. It’s skies opening/angels singing good.
I want it to last but for once, I’m not wanting to hit the fast-forward on it and zoom through to see if I will. This contentment just to be, it’s unlike anything I’ve felt.
Sanity or, Letting Go
Today, I feel like I might be sane. Sane doesn’t feel like much of anything. But at least this feeling gives me an idea of what “better” feels like, so I can know I’m getting better.
I guess “sane” feels like… Well, it feels like the absence of whatever symptoms you have. For me, it feels like I’m looser and more at ease. Not feeling like everything is okay (read: perfect) but that everything is going to be okay (read: manageable). It feels like being okay with manageable. It feels like managing manageability.
It feels like “my love is an hour late, but not home. I’ll text her but won’t freak out.
It feels like feeling my feelings for just a moment, breathing and letting them go. Sometimes, it feels like consciously having to let them go, but realizing people probably do that.
It feels like remembering your past as objective facts and not jumbles of emotion.
It feels like being neither frantic about what I have to do nor guilty about not doing it. It feels like making a to do list and not feeling like you have to flying jump right into it.
It means being okay with things taking longer than normal.
It feels like an absence of shame at having a mental illness.
Still, it feels temporary. But I know what it feels like.
I don’t know quite how I got here, but it involved a day of work where I allowed my feelings to be felt for a brief moment before I decided to ignore (or tried ignoring) them. I just “let it go”. And that made all the difference.
Allowing myself to just “let it go” for a brief period in one small area of my life was easy. But had the profound effect of letting me understand what it would feel like to just “let it go” in other places in my life. I did what one part of my DBT workbook said to do: think about a time of my life without judgment. So I did. And then another. And another. And as I viewed each moment without judgment, I “let it go”.
I need to stay on and practice this.
Paranoia or, FUCK THE UNIVERSE
Most of my life has been spent either believing or fighting the belief that I am cursed.
Earlier this year my truck that I had had for years up and died, due largely to my lack of oversight. I asked for money from my father to purchase another used truck. In my overwhelming desire to have my own, I chose one that had a few problems and those problems proceeded to get a lot worse.
I had a horrible week last week for many reasons but mostly because of that truck. My girlfriend told me she would sell me her vehicle and she would get another.
I do not believe in karma. If you believe that some form of “justice”, however twisted that justice may be, is an organizing factor of this universe, I do not question your intelligence. Instead, I question your very consciousness. The most basic objective view of this world does almost everything it can to disprove the idea.
When I went to pick her up to go look at cars, I was distraught. It was the worst hour of the worst day of a really, really, really bad week. And I started asking whoever it was that was fucking with me my entire life to show itself.
My girlfriend made a down payment on a Scion tC. On Sunday, the numbers she crunched said she could barely afford it.
Karma decided to exist on Friday for no other reason than to fuck me in the ass with a concrete dildo and no lubrication.
When I put two and two together on Monday, I was nigh unto suicidal. I am not easily made suicidal. Sometimes I want to die but I’ve only once taken any steps to do so. It was official and the day since has not dulled my awareness that the universe really IS against me.
But then I found it. I found myself again. And I said “the universe is against me? FUCK THE UNIVERSE.
End of post. Have a nice day.
It ate my post.
Okay. Short version: I realized the Universe is out to get me. Then I realized FUCK THE UNIVERSE.
More to follow when WordPress stops being evil.
Also, fuck karma. If you believe in it, you’re not a conscious being.
Sanity
I am unable to continue to live life the way I am living it now. I must change.
That’s one of the key ideas behind… well, therapy in general. But specifically, it is mentioned in DBT. The therapy speaks often about making a life WORTH living.
One thing I’ve needed is an outlet. A place to vent. Expect more here. It has to be a lifeline for me. Because right now, my life is not worth living, but I can make it one.
I need to simplify. I need mindfulness. I need loving-kindness. I need… sanity.
I almost felt like I lost it over the fact that the bread I wanted for a sandwich got moldy. It was one last straw. It was a pile of straw that included my girlfriend getting a car that she will have a hard time affording and leaves me on the hook for more than I currently am dealing with. And a horrible truck. And job. And a life. And a mental illness I am still dealing with.
But still, moldy bread.
Earlier that day – and on every bad day – she had urged me to “let it go”. She almost completely broke down like I did today. She said she wasn’t strong. The idea that she could be blah about telling me to let the shit that happened to me go this horrible week tells me that she’s so much stronger than I might ever be. I need to remember that.
Ridiculous.
So I spent a certain part of my day wanting to have a nervous breakdown, just to get it over with. I felt like it’s coming but then I realized, it’s not going to come because part of me knows that what I’m experiencing isn’t worth having a breakdown over. At least no individual thing I am feeling is worth it.
So I spent part of my day wanting to fake a breakdown. But I realized that I probably wouldn’t be able to keep it up and that it was too pathetic even for me and my situation.
I need to get through this week. But then again, this week just brings another day. And the words “tomorrow is another day: is starting to sound like a threat, not a promise.
I don’t need another day. I need something GOOD to happen. I need to wake up tomorrow and have my rolling breakdown of a truck fixed.
I just need a NEUTRAL day. I just need a day where I can feel like I’m not hurting myself by just doing what it is that I do.
It’s ridiculous. I just want to rip out my emotions and not have any any more. I think if this shit keeps happening, instead of the breakdown I want (or maybe need), I’m just going to be depressed. What the fuck.
As for my statement, I think I might need to be in a more neutral space just to have it work.
The Statement
I am Kenny and I am a person of great worth. I accept and love myself just the way I am. I accept the situation I am in right now in this moment, complete with all of its ups-and-downs. I can get through whatever life brings. I give myself the right to set terms, limits and boundaries for myself and for what other people do to me. I can and will do what I decide to do today.
I wrote this today to attempt to give myself some kind of constant anchor for myself and my emotional state. I plan on committing this to memory and reciting the whole damn thing with every emotional slip.
People with my condition do not have the same solid sense of self that other people have. For whatever reason, we slide from one situation to the next changing our whole personalities with it. I hope this stops hard in its tracks with this.
A New Day in the Old Town 