Write a song. Jump a cliff. Pop bubble wrap. Doing the stuff that gives you kicks. Happy people do these things. They're at the mercy of themselves. I want to be at the mercy of myself instead of something else, someone else. Even in my weakest moments, I want to be in control of my emotions, my reactions, and my behaviour. I want this so desperately, perhaps too desperately. I'm so in love and yet I sabotage that love. I'm so happy to have strong friendships, and yet, I meddle with those, too. I have family who have seen me at my worst and continue to see me right through until I've brought myself back up again. I am a fortunate girl but feel I have no fortune.
It's been some time since I've been so boldly awake and aware of what's happening around me. And I've realized that these events don't happen TO me, but rather most of them happen because of me. I am not a victim even though I feel victimized. If I am a victim, I'm only the victim of myself. My own worst enemy. The tyranny of this disorder has worn me down, along with the people I love and look up to. How could I let this evolve so majestically? Where did I lose my mind? I must gain perspective. That's all I ever needed to do. Perspective before spoken word. Because my words can be cruel, tiring, and trying for those who must receive them.
This post is cut and dry as I have no creativity in me at this time, and that makes me very sad. But everyday I open my arms to it, ready for a eureka moment when I can put pen to paper and write something beautiful and meaningful. I know I shouldn't wait for something to happen. I know that I must find the creative bones by digging and holding and releasing and grieving and thinking and pushing. To be honest, I'm exhausted. Anyone with borderline personality disorder can vouch for the fact that everyday is frightening, sometimes to a paralyzing degree. Someone says the wrong thing to you and you feel rejected, betrayed, abandoned. So you react accordingly. You may yell, you may cry, you may make snide remarks. But when you treat the people you love that way you put yourself in an awful situation and that is the cycle of guilt. You say or do those awful things and almost as swiftly as the words leave you do you wish they never left. You realize you've hurt a loved one. You want to make it better. So you cry harder and enable worse self talk. Telling yourself you're a bad person, you don't deserve love, you should hide away from everyone, and ultimately, you tell yourself you ought to be rotting six feet under. You swear that you'll never treat that person the same again. You'll try harder. And yet you can't catch yourself before the emotions take over your mind, your speech, your behaviour.
I wish I never stopped therapy. I was so much better when I was working on this disorder. I was so different. I was myself. And myself is a pretty good gal when she wants to be. I was capable of thinking clearer before speaking unforgiveable things. I was capable of soothing myself without constantly searching for external validation from a lover, friend, or parent. I was secure.
I've been to the hospital again and I am very hopeful. I'm optimistic. I have a different plan this time around. A long term plan. I won't come back here to this dreadful head space...and if I do, I will be armed with the right weapons to defeat the demons. Because I believe in therapy and I believe in myself when I really think about it. I won't be in this position again. I can't handle being this person anymore. Too many times have people had to carry my mess with them. It's important to have my own legs, but to know that once in a while there are people out there who will lend you theirs, but only once in a while. There's no such thing as a saviour, only those who can help make the unbearable moments more bearable.