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.
“When you go through the valley. And shadow comes down from the hill. If morning never comes to be. Be still, be still, be still. If you forget the way to go. And lose where you came from. If no one is standing beside you. Be still and know I am.”
“But I will hold on hope. And I won’t let you choke. On the noose around your neck. And I’ll find strength in pain. And I will change my ways. I’ll know my name as it’s called again…So make your sirens call. And sing all you want. I will not hear what you have to say. Cause I need freedom now. And I need to know how to live my life as it’s meant to be.”
Lyrics to my life. Music is my escape. The beat that can put words to my emotions like nothing else can. I am a laid back personality type trapped in the broken life of a person suffering from borderline personality disorder. For most aspects of my life, I take trials and failure with a grain of salt. I try to take the high road in dealing with people. I have never sought to be immature when faced with difficult situations. When my ex left me with just a note on the computer, never returning to discuss the end of our relationship, I never exploded in anger. I never sent passive-aggressive texts. I never sought to fight for my honor as most of my family wanted me to. I never called her out on all of her lies. I simply let her walk. I let her go. In the majority of my life, I am the calm one. The one who sits in the background and enjoys good conversation. I like talking about the difficult topics that most people avoid. Religion. Politics. I try to understand differing points of view so that I can better understand my view on things. I change. I have been changed by factors that I cannot control. I seek to make my life better. I am a happy person with one of the most laidback attitudes you will ever meet. I am a walking contradiction. I view my world through a lens of my own making. When faced with rejection, even if it is a faction that I have created in my own mind, I break. I fight. I burst out in irrational rage. I survive with an unlimited amount of guilt. I fight to take it all back. I am impulsive. I can be responsible. I can be wreckless. I try to keep everything inside of me so that I can keep those dark parts of me hidden. I fail. I wear my heart on my sleeve. At the core, I don’t know who I am. Or what I am intended to be. I try to be what I want to be. But BPD changes me in ways that I will never be able to fully understand. Or change. I react differently than anyone else I know. I have studied my disorder. I have studied myself. I self-reflect every second of my day. But I will never be able to truly understand what I am made of. What resides in the core of me. I am an enigma wrapped in a mystery. A lost soul wandering in the dark. I am laidback. I am impulsive. I am happy. I pretend to be happy. I care too much. I don’t care enough. I am a good person. I am what I want the world to think I am. A walking contradiction.
Pinky Swear (Photo credit: The Kozy Shack)
I have recently found myself reflecting a lot on the last year. In all honesty, it has been the most challenging path I have yet had to venture down. This time last year, I was deep in the throes of an emotional abyss. I was struggling to find an identity. To find a purpose for my life. I was lost in a world in which not many people can find you. I did not even know if I wanted to be found. I was crying out for help that did not come at the time. From there it only got worse. My ex leaving me in the manner that she did, shattered any grasp I had on my life. I was broken. A shell of myself. And I continued to spiral down. I was beyond lost. And I am too stubborn, or proud, to truly ask for help. I have an innate belief that I can heal myself. That I can maintain control over the demons inside of me. I lie to myself. And, by many accounts, I failed. I never wanted to see tomorrow. I never thought that it would get better. I gave up on everything in this life that I had ever believed in. Including myself. And I found out the true extent of my disorder. And the deep places that it can take me if I allow it. The scars on my arms are fading. But the memory remains as clear as ever. I remember. Everything.
To this day, it terrifies me to think of the depths of my emotions. And where they can lead me. But I am still here. I am a different person then I was 7 months ago. To say that my life has changed over the course of the last year would be an understatement. I have grown. I have learned. I have begun to build a foundation on the solid rock bottom that I never thought I would escape. I still struggle. I still fight my impulsive true nature. I cry. I battle against myself. I battle with myself. I know the darkness that can consume me. And I understand that the darkness is still inside of me. But I am here. And I know that there are several reasons for that. It cannot be attributed to just one thing. And one of those factors was this place. This blog.
Whoever may be reading this, I want to take a moment to thank you. Yeah, you. I probably don’t know you. I may never know your name or meet you in person. But you’ve read my blog regardless. And because of that I feel the faintest connection with you. In this place I have found solace, and I needed that more than I ever knew. Maybe no one is really reading this, but I will put my faith in the belief that someone is. That even just one person out there cares. And whoever you may be, you played a part in saving me. Just by existing. And for that, I will always be grateful.
I am not “cured”. I never will be. I will still stumble. I will lose battles within myself. But I will continue to fight. So thank you for providing me with one more reason to. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Never give up on me. And I promise to never give up on you. I’ll even pinkie promise if you want.