I let myself down again recently. I met this really nice guy and one thing lead to another.
We are both struggling differently but I can’t help but be worried about him and hurt at the same time. Two broken people can’t fix each other. Two broken people can’t find the light it has to come from ourselves.
Last year I spent Christmas Day alone, crying my heart out. I wasn’t invited by my family and I just cried in my apartment and I moved to be closer to family so I can have that love and support. They don’t want to know.
I know others go through a lot worse in life and are stable and calm about everything but I’m too emotional. It’s like I’m grieving people who are alive, fearing abandonment. I’m like a scared little monkey in a cage. I wish there was support out there but down south the doctors were saying that I was too intelligent for the support. I knew too much. How is that?
I may have a high IQ which can account for capacity but I know what I need and that’s loving people around me. I’ve never had confidence before. I have no idea what that feels like. I have to fake happiness and confidence to fit in in life. Does anyone else feel the same way?
I was wrong. I feel bad because I shouldn’t have been stupid with someone I just met trying to fill a void I’ve masked for so long. When I found out I was just ‘sex’ I broke down. It’s how my ex left me. All he would want is sex and I didn’t have the respect for myself back then but I knew my BPD was hurting him and that was all my fault.
But it’s not this new guys fault. We both have separate battles and I care too much about others and forget about my own needs sometimes. The intensity of emotions can scare me. I’m in a shared house at the moment and in my own apartment before I use to self soothe cry myself to sleep and it felt sad but good because I was comforting myself and telling myself everything will be okay.
I need my apartment back. I need my own space. Its killing me and I can’t afford to right now. I dont want to be homeless again. I want one home, one life. I’m living in a time vortex like doctor who. I’ve let myself down. I’m worried about facing people on Monday – have two surgeries and one antibiotic drip so that’s increased my stress.
Sometimes I think about putting messages in a bottle to my future self and sending them out on the lochs.
We can’t expect others to understand how we feel all of the time because some people have life threatening conditions.
People automatically assume that mental health illnesses is just emotions but it’s not. It’s your brain not functioning properly, it’s you being so scared and afraid and fighting with your moods. It’s my fault because relationships are the worst triggers for a BPD. Once people laughed at me because I was impulsive and hit defence mode because I was scared of them hurting me and this nurse said “Ignore her, it’s her BPD”. I walked out the hospital that day crying wanting to end my life. But I didnt. I stayed alive for my siblings, my family, those who need me even if they don’t see how I am on their own accord. I stayed alive because I can’t hurt someone else. Ever. At least not deliberately.
Writing these blogs help me. It’s my self counselling because people will walk away if they hear my pain and get fed up of me because they have their own problems.
I’m an INFJ. We are complicated people. We love too hard and we are the 1% of the population.
I came to Scotland for a fresh start and unfortunately I let myself down because I can’t be myself when I feel unsafe and afraid of others and excluded and all these things that make me feel alone.
Everything is my fault because my trauma has shaped me into a scared adult that can’t even live a life. I struggle to make friends because I’m so different. I’m helping myself every day and to some people it’s not good enough. All I can do is apologise but I am broken and I might hide behind a smile but I’ve been like this my whole life so I cant tell people it will pass when it wont. I have to accept it and get on with life and find a different medication to shut off every emotion, write a book about my experience or do something so indignantly passionate that our hearts heal themselves.
I haven’t eaten in two days. I’m frozen on my bed because I’m afraid. Afraid of unexpected outcomes. Afraid of going through judgements and ridicule for being unwell permanently. It can be treated but it can’t be cured. It would be hard for health professionals to even understand. Am I an inspirational person?
I’ll let you decide..