Category Archives: Domestic Violence

Why don’t you all just fuck off?

Goady fucker aren’t I?

I’m not sure yet as to who exactly that is aimed at.

It might be aimed at the spectres in my dreams. The ones that are keeping me awake, yet asleep. The ones that have me dreading bed time, yet so exhausted I feel physically sick. The ones that make me relieve my worst memories, my darkest fears and my saddest moments.

It might be aimed at all the people making demands on my time, yet offering me nothing in return. Every relationship is transactional, and I’m beginning to feel the effects of the negative equity. It sucks to be honest.

It might be aimed at the people who have every right to make demands of me, the ones that offer me unwavering love and support, the ones I brought into the world, the ones who pay my wages. The ones I owe. The ones I want to be there for and to love and cherish…but the ones I end up fucking over…time  after time.

It might be aimed at the duo on my shoulder, known to me as rejection and loss. Some people have the devil and the angel. I don’t. My decisions are governed by my fear of rejection and loss.

It might be aimed at the racing thoughts, combined with the racing pulse. Culminating in the ultimate headache and body aches. That articulated truck just won’t fuck off and I really, really wish it would.

It’s definitely aimed at the people who wrote the first ten search results in my latest search for research on BPD.

Emotional vampire, empty martyr, cruel, abusive….all words used to describe people like me.

Even fucking worse was using the term “A Borderline” I am not a Borderline. I am not a fucking mental illness. I am a fucking person, with many many attributes. Call me a cunt, thats fine…I am one. A bitch….a daughter, a mother…etc I am all of these things. I am not a Borderline….anymore than I am the Loch Ness Fucking Monster.

I also wouldn’t say I’m an emotional vampire. If anything, I give off more emotions than I take in. I require a lot of maintenance, and I feed off peoples negativity, but no in a way that damages them. More in a way, that punishes myself. But if people around me are happy, then I’m happy. If people around me are sad, I find ways to alleviate that sadness for them, be it with bizarre riddles, hugs, presents…anything…I just want them to feel better.

I’m definitely not abusive. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I actively avoid confrontation, choosing instead to go without or be uncomfortable in order to avoid calling people out on their bad behavior. I spend my days building people up.

Yes, I can be cruel. Of course I am. By mere virtue of being human, the ability to be cruel comes with ease. But I genuinely don’t think cruelty is my first response, contrary to what google results would suggest.

I am screwed up. I do have a disproportionate negative view of myself. I do need to reengage with therapy. I do take a increasingly strong dosage of medication. I  do keep to the shadows. I do feel deeply. Love, happiness, hope…that stains me to my core. As does the darkness. I tiptoe and dance along a tightrope, never sure which side I’m going to come crashing down on. But it’s my dance and my tightrope. I own that. I find happiness in the smallest of things, I find joy in nothing more strenuous than a rainbow. I find peace in being by the sea….

I am not this carcrash of a human, waiting to hurt and destroy people. I am not this person to be avoided because of fear of me somehow infecting you with my, frankly, bizarre views.

I am messed up, I don’t see myself the way others see me. I don’t see the world in ways other people do. I’m not jaded or full of cynicism. I’m the eternal optimist. Because I have to be. I’ve experienced the worst of what the world has to offer. I’ve been the domestic abuse victim. I’ve been the sexual abuse victim. I’ve been the one who reached out to tell my story, and get the support I needed so badly….and found that there was none when I needed it. Yet still, I look around me and see the goodness in people. See the kindness. Offer my support, my help….when many others would have already turned their backs. I give that second, third and fourth chance.

So why exactly, am I lumped in with the dregs of society? The ones who take out more than they give back…the ones who won’t help themselves let alone other people?

I have fought, endlessly, tirelessly, relentlessly….

I have fought other people. I have fought the system. I have fought myself. I have fought for other people.

And because whilst I have BPD  and goddamn am I aware of that… it’s not all I am. My paranoia, my weird tangenty thoughts, my cyclical moods, my lack of “emotional regulation”, my fear of rejection and loss, my love, my hope, my whimsy….they’re all just facets of who I am.

I am not a borderline. I am not an abuser.

I’m just me….weird, crazy, ugly little me.

If that isn’t enough. If you will still insist on my changing…this is my invitation to you…

Go, and don’t come back. I do not have time or inclination for anyone who doesn’t accept who I am. I do not have time, or patience to convince you that I am worthy. How can I, when I still have to convince myself of that every day.

I do have time to reeducate. I have time to fight for the cause. To fight for people to actually understand mental health, genuinely understand it.

I do not have time to explain, again, that I do not have depression. That I’m not “going through a phase” (it’s been 20 years…I’m fairly sure this is who I am). I do not have time to convince you of what I can’t begin to explain adequately.

But, I will, always, have time to listen and to love. Because that’s who I am.
















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































time I wake up?



Can I have a do-over?

Or at least that’s what I text my friend the other day.

These last….six months have been relentless. I haven’t been able to catch my breath from one moment to the next. And that has been exhausting.

For someone who requires stability and routine in order to function from one day to the next….the last few months have left me spinning. My very own waltzers have been increasing in momentum….my homing beacon isn’t only just switched off…it’s in a different universe from what I can tell…my swans wings have been flapping almost as hard as my feet have been paddling and still…..the war of attrition has sucked me back in.

I’ve changed jobs, to one that whilst…requires less hours…it requires much more head space and much more mask wearing. I’m on my own for great swathes of the day. That’s a long time to be with my own thoughts.

My very own Everest has beaten me for now. I could see the summit…and then I slipped back too far to reach it this year.

Childcare has been a nightmare, I get that having kids and going to work was my choice. And I did it for all the right reasons. But its a minefield. And mines are detonating everywhere I turn.

There’s been a bereavement…which I found out about…by accident it would appear. Actually there is no appear about it. That’s exactly how I found out.

I’ve had to meet loads of new people. In fact its a prerequisite of my job – forming relationships. The irony of someone like me having to form and build relationships for a job. That’s hilarious.

And perhaps most concerning….I’ve come off my antidepressant.

Not my anti psychotic. We increased the dose of that and removed the antidepressant. At first it was accidentally. In the maelstrom of changing jobs and all the drama that ensued with the big green kitchen company….I forgot to take it. My sleep didn’t change, I woke up in a good mood….so I ran with it…..

The first month was amazing. Everything was fantastic. No withdrawal….no sleep issues…I was happier and more content…awesome right?

Then the second month happened…the nightmares came back, the insomnia came back. I was so tired I cried in a car park because someone snapped at me…I felt physically ill with exhaustion. My bones hurt. I was so tired….but I just couldn’t sleep….and when I did sleep….back to the beginning…back to the violence of past relationships, back to seeing my girls die before my eyes….back to waking up screaming and drenched in sweat…there was just no respite.

Then the third month came….the nightmares are less. I still dream. I still have exhausting dreams, but the antipsychs are keeping me….well sane I guess. My sleep pattern is some bizarre version of fucked up. I’ll sleep for 10 hours one night and not at all two nights later. I’m assuming it’s just my body trying to work out its own thing….I’ll ride it out. I don’t want to go back on the anti depressants.

Not because I have anything against them….but because…the benefits of not being on them are now outweighing the benefits of taking them. And thats part of taking control of my own health….learning when I need the boost and when I can manage on my own….

But in saying this….it’s not been all bad.

It’s kept me on my voyage of learning who I am.

I swapped jobs to another role within an international company…and I love it. It pushes me, it engages me…this could be a career. So I’m passionate about it….the big green company job is another post entirely. And one I will be writing, and one I will tag them in. Because that was a soulless,destroying company and hell will rain down on the heads of the management before I’m through with them…..

I’ve maintained some good relationships with people I thought I’d lose over the natural course of time. But now it’s like, because we don’t have work binding us together…we have to make the effort….and that’s nice. It’s reinforcing the lack of scarlet in me at the moment.

The bereavement…I genuinely…I don’t care. And thats not my BPD. It sounds horrible, but the woman who died….she hadn’t engaged with me for years prior to that, and her son – my father, well he was no better. So finding out by accident was a bit cruel, but hey….so what?


So overall, no I don’t want a do over. I’ve learnt lots about myself in the last 6 months. I’ve learnt how resillient I am. How strong I am. How I can adapt as needed.

I’ve learnt that actually, I really am in control of my BPD. And that, that’s amazing. Thats real progress. I really love some aspects of my mental health illness… I still love the empathy I have because of it. I really love how it means I can help people. I love the way I see sounds and taste words. I’m fascinated by the way my mind works.


I hate the way I don’t have that much control over my emotions. So I’ve taught myself to control how I react to my emotions. Thats a life skill, even neurotypical people struggle with.


So fuck it, overall…I’m still winning this battle. Or at least…I’m keeping from being overthrown. And for now. That’ll do.

Grab your whips, grab your chains…its HERE!

And so the countdown has begun. It’s T minus 4 days until the release of the eagerly awaited release of the first of the 50 Shades films. With the date looming ever closer we are being subjected to :Hilarious Memo”. from some companies, and also pleas from :;Womens Aid”. for us to reject the films and the books.

And that naturally leads to me blogging about it!

From the opposition we have the argument that the books portray an abusive (sexually, physically, mentally, financially and verbally) relationship. And that reading it and watching it endorses the  view that this type of relationship is OK. They’re also worried about the impact this could have on viewers, it could be triggering, it could encourage them to stay in abusive relationships (a blockbuster says that what they’re darling partner is doing is fine and normal!), could reaffirm the abusers belief that they’re right, or that maybe young people with less experience could deem this as a normal relationship. It’s understandable why the advocates of Womans Rights movements, and women refuges are claiming these things. Really it is. It’s their job to be concerned. And out of context yes the relationship is abusive. And the first time I read the books I was appalled at what I was reading. (Quite aside from the appalling repetition and grammar!) Out of context whipping your partner is not okay, calling them names is not okay, choosing their clothes is not okay.

So to clarify, as individual items, not in the context of the book, yes it’s abusive. No its not Okay. If you feel you may, or a loved one may, be experiencing an abusive relationship please see the links at the bottom.

But here’s the clincher.

In context? They’re typical of BDSM relationships. The leading lady entered the relationship knowing what parameters she would be accepting, and chose, of her own volition with no undue coercion used, to enter into a relationship of this nature.
Wiki’s take on BDSM. And you must remember, that she used the safe word, and the safe word worked.

Now I have two strong processes of thought on this. So firstly, lets take the stance that watching these films could lead to what Womens Aid and many others have said is possibly going to happen.

Firstly, there is no evidence to support this idea. And there has been ongoing research into the effect of films/videogames/books on people and their actions. Whilst it could be linked, in the general population of neurotypical adolescents and adults whom fall within a typical IQ range, the results of psychological testing show that actually….its inconclusive as to whether exposure to this nature of thing leads people to act in that way. Done. Dusted. End of discussion no?

Because by this merit, playing GTA would increase your likelihood of killing prostitutes, or watching documentaries on war are more likely to make your warhungry. This just isn’t the case. Some people are predetermined to have that mindset. There just isn’t enough evidence to prove (or in fairness disprove) the theory.

So by extension, reading the books or watching the films isn’t more/less likely to make you an abuser or become a victim of abuse.

Furthermore, no one has only the books and the films as their sphere of reference. They have friends, family, colleagues, teachers, books, t.v shows etcetc all of which helps shape their understanding of how relationships should work. So to claim that one film will undo everything else these people know to be accurate, is to make the film more than it is.

Simalirly, I can’t help but think that to think that, is to also imply there is some blame on the victim for being abused. That somehow they’re making a choice to stay in an abusive relationship, despite knowing it’s bad for them, because some stranger who can barely write from America deems abusive relationships to be okay. That’s victim blaming, dangerous and wrong. I can’t marry the two in my mind, “it’s never the victims fault” to “watching this film will make the victim think its okay and normal” if a victim thinks what they’re experiencing is okay and normal, I’d lay my last penny on the fact it’s because they’ve been brainwashed over a long period of time to think so (even as far back as formative years, relationships we witness shape the type of relationships we will go on to have).

To finish that particular thought process, I can’t help but think that people are quite happily ignoring the fact that all the way through Ana is choosing to be in the relationship. Of her own free will. He told her he wasn’t right for her, he gave her written conditions and clauses, in the form of a contract, as to what the relationship will entail. In my experience, that isn’t how abusive relationships work. So that’s very far removed from the reality of abusive relationships.

So like I say, in context it’s not abusive. Out of context it is abusive.

My other thought process?

The book is fiction, it’s fantasy.  Simple.

And the chances of ever meeting a real life Mr Grey is slim to none. There just aren’t that many playboy billionaires swanning around falling head over heals with virgins. There just aren’t.

People don’t like the book because of the BDSM content. They like the romance (who doesn’t want to be spoilt and worshipped? Really?!) the fantasy. When they’re thinking of Mr Grey they aren’t thinking of his controlling possessiveness. They’re thinking of the way he cherishes her, loves her, spoils her. They’re thinking of what life would be like to just that rich.

So to say people can’t separate fantasy from reality is to call them dumb. And that’s just not cool. People can, and do, do this every day.

Would I be comfortable with my 14yr old cousin seeing this? Eh, depends how graphic the sex scenes are. I don’t really want to think of her growing up tbh. Makes me feel old. My one and only concern, is of her seeing a *whisper* penis. Not of her seeing the rest of it. Because I have the confidence in her, and most “vulnerable” people being able to establish what is and isn’t okay. As it is she’s too young, so she’d better wait a year 😉

So in conclusion? People are smart enough to not think the film means abuse is okay.

Now those links:

If you think you are, or someone you love, may be being abused in ANY way please seek help using one of the links, talk to some one. There is help there for those who need it.

and for the men