The world has expectations.

i can’t write about it now, but I will need to soon. THE RELATIONSHIP. I didn’t self harm before THE RELATIONSHIP. I spent two years in a constant state of alarm. Constant. Yet I stayed and still grieve the end.

I have always had “borderline tendencies” but this relationship triggered something. And I miss him. But that is a lie too. I don’t miss him. I miss the idea of him…no, the companionship….no i miss being able to look at the world and say “hey look at me I’m not alone!!! I found someone!! He…yeah him, the big strong good looking one…yep, that guy, he is with me!!! See I’m not a loser. See, I can get what all of you have.” Of course in saying that I wouldn’t add the part where I say “i’ve cried at least 4 days a week for 2 years. I feel lonelier with him than without him. He refuses to meet my needs because he says I’m trying to control him. He keeps saying ‘it’s over at time for good’ whenever we fight even though that leads to me self harming and he knows he will come back the next day. And…and…and”

I am so afraid not to be good enough or like everyone else. I don’t want to stand out for my failures. I have a heard enough time hearing others talk about my successes.

I need a man to prove to others that yes stupid ugly old worstcasescenariogirl can get one and getting the “manly” made me feel like the little tiny princess I have always wanted to be. Which by the way goes against everything I stand for. I preach women are powerful, women are strong and I need no one when all I want is someone big and strong and manLy to come and save me. It kind of makes me sick.

My biggest fear is that no one will ever love me enough to stay with me and all the popular kids will laugh and kiick mud at me. I will only be okay once I can prove to them I can get a man and not just a man….a real man….

i am in my early 40s and I’m worried that I will be judged by the people I went to elementary school with because I drank milk but did not become what the commercials say….I don’t go from wall flower to entry queen or 98 lb weakling to Mr. Olympia. I’m still just me.

How will I ever learn to be okay with just being me.  I’m average height, weight….I’m getting fine lines in my skin, my heair is turning grey…..I own nothing and am currently unemployed. I have no kids, no husband, no pets and I dot. Know what I want to be when I grow up.

And after all of that…the little still quiet voice in my head says….”write about the good stuff” I. Can’t ignore that voice, it so rarely speaks…..

have nice eyes. I am in good shape because a blessing about not having kids is the time to go to the gym. I have an undergraduate degree. I tried to live as an actor for 2 years and only booked once commercial..BUT I booked one!!!! I got my drivers licence at 26 and that is my biggest accomplishment to date. I taught ESL for many years….I sucked at grammar but boy did build great rapport with my students! I have a great sense of humor and I am quite witty ( that is so arrogant I think). I won a beauty pageant when I was 19 ( a local cultural heritage thing….but still I won), I live almost a year in another country where I didn’t speak the language, even though all of my relationships have ended badly every ex has become or has wanted to become my friend. I have had a billion jobs because I get bored and irritable and leave but I’ve tried so many more things than most people I know. I love public speaking. I love children.

Well the much louder voice just told he still small voice to stop now.  I’m not a failure. The little voice knows that. But the world has expectations…..

More “borderline” bullshit

I sincerely never thought I would be hospitalized for my mental health. I’m resentful still and it was only over night and months ago. I needed to work the next day and they wouldn’t let me out. I fought them and they restrained me. Granted I kicked a nurse….but I couldn’t miss work and the crisis had passed for me.

those of you who suffer know what I mean. It comes on hard and strong but it passes just as fast. Locking me up after the storm, won’t prevent the next storm, won’t help and just makes me trust you less.

I saw nurses walk by and ignore a woman who was crying the painful aching cry of someone who believes they are dying inside. Maybe the nurse has never felt this. Maybe the nurse is tainted by what she has seen. I couldn’t ignore her pain. I asked ” may I sit with you? I think you feel scared. Tell me if you want me to leave”. Her tears stopped. She talked to me. We joked. We knew. I’ve felt t he pain she felt. “Borderline Personality Disorder”. The stigma around it disgusts me. That woman was not crying for attention. She felt her insides might burst out. Like her heart might explode or stop suddenly. Like her skin ached. Like her skin ached and she was trapped in it and she wanted to crawl out. I know because I’ve been there. We don’t make it up. We don’t do it for attention. We aren’t manipulating. We aren’t compulsive liars.

And Ive said it before…if it’s my personality it isn’t a disorder. I cope this way for a reason.

I resent that male disorders are under diagnosed and acceptable in this world. Antisocial personality disorder….sociopaths – how may “successful” men prey on innocence? But we who hate ourselves are locked up and discarded. Yes we can be had on those we love. We abuse them. We threaten and call names and accuse. We are scared. We are small children locked inside adult bodies. Those kids whose parents say “no cookies before dinner” and the child yells “I hate you!”. Powerless. Afraid.

So you tell us we are broken and different and don’t fit in. You say we do it for attention.

Please look past what you see on the outside. Look inside. See my aching heart. See the desperation I feel. Look past the anger and the self destruction. Stop judging me and please see that I am hurting and no one taught me how to deal with it. I didn’t grow up. I’m wrinkly and my hair is greying but I’m a lost little girl.

Close your eyes and listen to the pain in my voice. Touch my scars. Imagine me, 6 years old…..trying so hard to be what you want me to be…..

I don’t write anymore because it was hurting more than helping. Tonight I had the urge but realize I have very little to say. Nothing really has changed. Life goes on and things stay the same. I feel ok today. Tomorrow who knows. It is what it is. I went to a play tonight and was bored. There was a time theatre was my life. It didn’t work for me tonight. The message didn’t get me on the emotional level I had hoped it would. It was about the prison system, mental health, social services. I wonder if the years I’ve been working in social services have made me a little numb to things. I wonder if finally accepting my own mental health issues have made me not as surprised or affected by those of others. Or if for me…a playwrights portrayal can’t show the reality….

it was nice to get out and do some thing different though. I think may have preferred going to a pub and watching UFC…..I never would have thought I would ever say I’d prefer watching dudes beat the crap out of each other to a night of theatre…..

 

coffee

I think I just decided to quit coffee. Im sitting here and my heart is beating and my anxiety is up….so not unusual for me….but think it is directly related to the coffee I am drinking and to be sure I do not need help with having high anxiety. So, from now on I will not make coffee at home. I will treat myself to one Starbucks decaf on Sunday mornings (im in love with the Caramel Flan Latte) and I will have to pass on the chance to win a car….I’ve been buying a large double double on the way to work every day and justifying it with the fact that there is a car waiting for me under the  rim…..

Of course by tomorrow when I am again struggling to get out of bed….I will likely turn on the the stove and silently stare into space until I hear the familiar gurggle of the espresso maker as my apartment fills with the smell of childhood mornings……

Sigh….but for today I stand firm….no more coffee after this cup :-P 

He isn’t doing well. So funny I feel the need to be there for him. I’m not doing well either. Guess I’ll take. Care of myself. Valentines day sucks. I’m drunk and not feeling half bad. Blessed to have girlfriends I love.

Lost it on someone on the train. His elbow was in my back he was jumping around and he and his friends were saying bugler things. Then his friends removed him. Then some dick head was mocking me because of it so I sayd hey asshole are talking about me? Cause that’s mean and rude and then he dropped an f bomb so called him ignorant and he said some other rather skid like things so I called him uneducated. When he went to get off train he called me a dyke and a slut and I called him dumb and uneducated and he dropped a couple mre f bombs. I said go to hell. He got close to me and gestured ejaculating on me. I again said he is uneducated oh and addded in a rude classiest way…said he is below me and his being there made me feel like I was in the gutter. Not nice I know. Then some other douche said…what, do u have a PhDs…i of course said yes…didn’t think credentials would be checked. He said in what rudeness. I said butt out you are an asshole two. He said some sexist thing and yes I finally really broke and told him to go fuck himself. Productive night.

i just wanted a quiet ride home without having to listen to bunch of stupid kids yelling sexual things and without a strangers arm over the back of my chair. Tired of dealing with the obnoxious evening crowd everyday after work.

came home and ate a whole cake.

I’m losing it. Anxiety panic. Sure he is dating someone new in less than two weeks. Sure of it. His car is never there when I stalk and he completely ignores my texts. I hope to god he is okay…safe alive. If he has someone new that is so cold and hurtful. I hate this more than anything and feel so powerless and out of control.

I move on Saturday. Without him. Not just the without I expected which was sad….but a sadder without….not the saddest without. No we are not moving I together. That is sad. He will not be helping me move. Sadder. He is stil alive so not the saddest. Though in my angry moments I wonder if his death would bring me joy. Sick? Right?

expectations crAshe yet again. Timing is everything.