There is just too much to write right now. I couldn’t find the words if I tried. But since I haven’t written in a while, I figured I’d at least write a couple quick sentences to update. I don’t have the energy to write much more than that.
They think I might have bladder cancer. I am currently in the process of going through testing.
My brother in law beat the shit out of my sister. Mainly in her face. And he strangled her. It broke me to see her. I still can’t quantify the feeling.
Eventually I will write more about all of it. But not right now. It’s all I can do just to breathe.
There’s so much to tell that I don’t even know where to start. Honestly. I feel like the last couple weeks have been a haze of extreme lows and highs. And everything in between. There are moments of clarity. And moments of despair. But I guess I’ll start from the beginning. Or as close to it as I can come.
I discussed in earlier posts how much was going on in my life at one time. It was overwhelming. And I knew that it was. But even then, I didn’t fully grasp how damaging it had become to me. The girl from North Carolina (Kayla) had been distant for weeks. But was starting to text me and attempt to come back into my life. It messed me up inside because I did not know what to do. My heart was struggling with my mind. And with every text, the words cut deeper into me. We had discovered that the tumor was inside my sister’s ovary. She was going to need surgery to completely remove her left ovary. One of my really good friends and I had had a falling out. It was a mess of a situation. And even that is an understatement. She was living with me and in the span of a couple texts our entire friendship had been blown up and in the course of two days she removed herself entirely from my house and, at the time, my life. I was destroyed. I hate people leaving. And I was facing all of this at a time when I was extremely emotionally fragile as I was still dealing with the reality of watching a woman kill herself. I thought I could handle it all. I thought I was ok. But really what I was doing was shoving everything so deep down because I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with any of it. And especially not all at once. I tried every coping mechanism I knew and had been taught. But I was a bomb waiting to explode.
Three weeks ago to the day, that bomb finally exploded. I was broken about my sister. I was upset about Kayla. I was hurt about my friendship. I was lost within myself. And so I made the decision to visit my friend at the bar she works at when I got off work. I then got a text from two other friends, as it was one of their birthdays, and so I decided that I would meet up with them later on in the night. I didn’t eat much that day as my anxiety was too high so I wasn’t hungry. But I drank. A lot. More than I realized. And, for reasons that are still unknown to me and my friends, I decided to leave the bar. The next thing I remember is hanging from my seatbelt in my car. Somehow I got myself out and crashed to the bottom of my car. You see, I had flipped my car and was at the bottom of a hill. I was in and out of consciousness and only vaguely remember the firemen getting there and telling me that they would get me out. My car was so damaged that they had to cut me out. After that everything is very fuzzy and jumbled.
I don’t remember anything about the accident. I really don’t. It’s all just a blank in my head. It is only partially because of the alcohol, but mostly because I had a severe concussion. They told me that the only reason I escaped with only minor injuries was because I had been wearing my seatbelt. Otherwise they are convinced that I would have died. To say that I am lucky is an understatement.
I have done a lot of soul searching these last couple weeks. I know I need to make changes in my life. And have begun that process. I don’t know why I survived. I don’t know why I’m not in prison because my blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit. But somehow, for some reason, I’m here. I got a second chance. The problem is, all of the broken pieces are still inside. And I am attempting to put them back together. I blocked North Carolina from my phone so that I can no longer receive text messages from her. She wasn’t good in my life and continuing to receive her texts would just continue to mess me up inside. I now have a girlfriend. I have technically been talking to her for just about a month and a half, but we only became official last week. She stood by me after the accident and has continued to be an amazing addition to my life. She also has a five year old daughter who has changed my life in ways I never thought imaginable. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be a parent. But I do know that I am willing to do anything for her. They both have added so much goodness to my life. They have enriched me. And I think they are also part of my second chance. I think they were meant to be my second chance at the life I have always wanted. I don’t know if I’m strong enough. But what I do know is that with them, I am willing to try with everything I have. I am here for a reason. That much was proven to me. And I want to find out the why. After all, it is not the destination that matters, it is the journey. And my journey continues on.
I watched a woman kill herself and I continue to have flashbacks of it. I haven’t been able to sleep. Because everytime I close my eyes I see her looking at me. She’s haunting me. And telling me that I am just like her.
A friendship that I once thought was so “different”, is currently crashing down around me. And I don’t know if the pieces can ever fit back together.
The girl that set me up to fall for her, did not follow through with catching me. Words seem to have been just that, words. I don’t even know how to put into words what is currently going on with that situation. Except that I fell and am now just lost and confused. With no light at the end of the tunnel. Nor do I know how long the tunnel is.
My sister has cancer. She may also lose everything she has today as her husband is most likely going to lose his job. And he is the sole provider in their family. My nephew and niece, who are the complete center of my world, may not have a home when the sun goes down tonight.
The waves continue to crash around me. Getting bigger and stronger. Pushing me down with each progression. As I struggle just to get up from my knees. And all I want to do is just breathe.
“Say something, I’m giving up on you. I’ll be the one if you want me to. Anywhere I would’ve followed you. Say something, I’m giving up on you. And I, am feeling so small. It was over my head. I know nothing at all. And I, will stumble and fall. I’m still learning to love. Just starting to crawl. Say something, I’m giving up on you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you……”
I listened to that song on repeat last night. And today. I don’t know why that song is the one that I am relating to right now, but it is. I have found a little bit of everything that I am feeling right now in that song. It gave so many things inside of me a voice. Just everything right now, it’s too much. It’s too much to handle at one time. I am struggling. I am failing.
I feel as if the entire earth is shattering. Slipping through my fingers as I try and hold on to some sort of semblance of myself. I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize myself. I don’t know who this person is. I have tried for so long to hold on, because tomorrow will be better. That’s what they always say. But everything is just tumbling down. The harder I try and hold it up, it just falls down. I am back where I started. Never even knowing I never went anywhere to begin with. If you know anything about BPD then you know that I am a product of my environment. I feed on the energy around me. Things that I have absolutely no control over can control me. And I can’t stop it. All I can do is feel it. Suffer it. Grasp on to it and hang on for dear life. The storm rages on regardless.
I still can’t focus enough to think about what happened yesterday. It wasn’t until late in the night last night that I cried for the first time. And now, I still just feel numb. It’s replaying in my mind, but I can’t focus on it. It’s like an endless loop of emotion with no video. Coursing through me, but I see nothing. The hardest part is that I have thought about jumping off my building. Every time I have looked over that edge I have thought about it. Of just letting go. I am her. She was me. And I don’t know how to escape that thought. That feeling. Her eyes. That’s all I can see. Her eyes. Begging for a release. A release from the same pain inside that I can feel. I can feel her. I guess that relates to my life in general. For the majority of my life, I feel my way through. I don’t see my world, I feel it. I feel people. I feel. Everything. So, I feel her. I was the last thing she saw in this world. And I feel her.
I really don’t want to write about this right now. It’s still way too fresh. But I feel that I should. Because otherwise I will never write about it. Or talk about it again. I will bottle it inside with everything else that resides in there. It will come to me in nightmares and moments of emotional upheaval. But I won’t talk about it. So, here I am talking about. Hopefully this helps. Fuck, I hope it helps take it away from my shattered heart. I will divulge every moment of this event in hopes that it will purge it from my mind.
I work in an office building where the first 11 floors are a parking garage. I hardly ever go onto the parking garage floors except during the summertime. Because I work across the street from a minor league baseball field. So during the summer I’ll go to the 11th floor where you can have a perfect view of the field and I’ll watch some of the games on my lunch. But during the winter time I hardly ever go there. Well, I have been feeling so broken lately that today on my break I went to the 11th floor to just get some fresh air. I wish I could take that decision back.
I watched a woman commit suicide today. When I walked onto the floor I walked over to the edge so that I could look down at the river that flows next to my building. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I turned and saw a woman standing on the ledge holding on the guardrail. I called out to her and she looked me straight in the eyes. Then, she let go. I couldn’t get to her in time. I looked down and saw her lifeless body on the sidewalk. Blood everywhere.
Even saying it now, it sounds like a movie. One of the moments where time stops and everything feels in slow motion. But unfortunately this was real. And I couldn’t get to her in time. The look on her face, in her eyes, is replaying in my mind. Because I know that look. I’ve had that look. The look of giving up. Of desperation. Of deep rooted pain. I know that look. And in that one second in which she looked at me, she gave up. She let go.
To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m feeling right now. I was shaking most of the day. Now, I just feel numb. Like my body cycled through too many emotions during the day and now has just shut down. I just wish I could stop replaying it in my mind. I don’t know that woman’s name. I don’t know her story or what led her to that point. But I know what she felt in that moment. I just wish I had been able to get to her. I know this isn’t on me. I know she had made her choice long before I crossed her path, however brief it might have been. I just wish I had been able to get to her. I wish she wouldn’t have let go.
Well, here’s the broken part of the BPD. Here’s the ugliness. I try and hide it from everyone in my life. Even from you. But, here it is. Maybe it’s time I bring a little more truth into this blog. And the truth is, I don’t want to be here anymore. It hurts too much to be here. I live my life for everyone else. I hide so much of myself from the world because I don’t want them to know what truly lives inside of me. I protect my loved ones because I don’t want them to know the truth. I want to protect them from all of this ugliness. I never want them to know this. But here it is. I can go from being completely fine to being shattered in pieces in five minutes. Read all you want about BPD. Every article you can find. Nothing can explain what this feels like. This constant ache inside that nothing can ever feel. Feeling so many emotions that you feel like you’re basically going to jump out of your skin because you can’t handle it. No words on a piece of paper can ever come close to explaining what it feels like to want to die because you can no longer handle the hurt inside. I fight. Every single fucking day I fight. But for what? Just to make it through the day? Just to wake up so I can do it all over again? Do you even know what that feels like? I am an internal borderline. Some call it a “quiet borderline”. Whatever you wanna call it, I am more broken inside then I will ever be able to put into words. I live for other people. I don’t know how to live for myself. But I live for them. For their happiness. But in an instant that can change. I think they don’t care. Don’t text me back and I think you hate me. Don’t talk to me as much as you normally do, I think you no longer love me. That’s the fucking reality. But i never say it. I keep all this shit inside. Because I know it’s exactly that, shit. It’s my own mind, my own emotions betraying me. And I feel them all. Over and over and over. There’s no end to them. Never. So I want to protect the people I care about. I want to shade them from all of this darkness. They would be so much better off without me. That’s my reality. The people I love the most in this world, I want them to be free of me. Because this, this is a fucking ugly reality. And no one should have to live through it.
She is beginning to consume my thoughts. In all truth, she has for quite some time. Not quite ready to use her name is that would make it very real. A very real part of my story. So for now, I will call her K. The girl in North Carolina. The one who, against all odds, has captured my attention. All of it. I could downplay what is occurring. But this is the place where I promised to lay bare all of my dirty little secrets. So I will not lie to you. Any more that I can lie to myself. I feel for her. I feel a lot. In ways that should not be happening. Because I still have yet to see her in person. I still do not know what it feels like to hold her in my arms. But still, I feel.
I think that it is because of the distance that this relationship, because let’s be honest that’s what it is, is getting to me the way that it is. All we currently have is communication. Which has always been lacking in every previous relationship that I have had. Even though thoughts and emotions constantly flow through me, I am bad at communication. Sometimes it is because I am scared to share what goes through my mind. What fills my heart. Sometimes it is because it is too much for anyone to know. But sometimes it is because I can’t find the words to express how I am feeling. I can’t put words to exactly what it is inside me. So in every relationship I move fast and make a person fall for me and we proceed from there. But every time, the communication throughout the relationship is lacking. But this, well all we have is communication. It is the only thing connecting us. And to see her name appear on my phone, it gives me butterflies. It puts an instant smile on my face. Even now, over two months later. She still gets to me. And I don’t know exactly what that means. I want her. I need her. I crave to be next to her. But then there are the doubts. The questions. The fears. Because she is 1600 miles away. An entire country separates us. And how can I fall in love with someone who I have not only seen, but I can’t drive to in a single day.
My friends, well, they’re concerned. They have seen me destroyed by love. By people. They do not want that to happen again. Some believe she is just using me as a distraction from her left. That this is never meant to be real. That we will never truly meet. There are those who believe that she is hiding things from me. Because with some on the other side of the country, it is so easy to hide so much of yourself. I mean, look at me, I’m hiding my BPD. I’m able to hide it because she does not have to see me cry at night. I do not have to explain certain behavior to her. Because she does not need to know the reality of my day to day life. It’s not that I hide everything from her. But I have hidden the worst parts of myself. With her, I’m able to be the person that I want the world to know. Not all good. She knows most everything about me. Just not the BPD. Not that. But if I am able to hide that from her, as my friends say, imagine what she could be hiding from me. And then there are those that think maybe there is a chance for us. However they are cautious and worried. I get where they all are coming from. I do understand. If this was someone else living this story and telling me about it, well I’d probably feel the same way. I’d tell them all the same things that I am being told. And hoped that they would listen. But I’m not listening. My heart won’t let me. This feels like it is meant for something. I just wish I knew what.
And as for her, well she opens up with me. I know things about her that I know, I know, she does not share with others. Because I have heard her talk to others. And it’s not how she talks to me. And that’s the side that no one else sees. Or can understand. I do not feel all of these things on my own. It is a shared experience. I just don’t know where I am supposed to go from here. Do I continue to feel? Even though this could end badly. Do I do what my friends are telling me to do and just try not to get to serious? But it is already serious. So what do I do? I know what my heart is telling me. But my heart is not always right. My heart has led me to some very bad places. My heart has been broken too bad by decisions that felt right at the time. So what do I do this time? I don’t want to lose her. But I also don’t want to end up destroyed. Again. I can’t go through that again. Not right now. But what if she’s the one thing keeping me together? To love means you open yourself up to someone. You give them the knife that can cut right through you. And yet have the faith that they will never use it. Love is always a risk. For anyone. But what do I do when I cannot absorb the hurt like anyone else? What if I feel more than most. And hurt more as well. Because that’s what I am. But maybe, in this time and place, she is the one that is meant to put the broken pieces back together. She has already started the process. She says she has duct tape for the rest. Maybe duct tape will do the job that nothing else has been able to. Maybe it is worth the risk of being ripped apart. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid. That’s the problem. I can’t even trust my own feelings. That’s the worst part. I can never trust myself or what I feel. But just maybe, in this time and place……