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?