Tag Archives: sadness

nothing is ordinary.

I guess it’s about time I talk about some of the stuff in my life. I’m not yet ready to talk about my own health issues that I am currently dealing with. I feel like putting them out in the open would make it more real. And I’m not ready for that. Yet. So I will pick another topic that has been buried inside me for the last two weeks. I feel like it is eating me alive. And maybe, I hope, that getting it out will help me deal with some of the emotions. Quantify them. Break them open into the sunlight.

I have had thoughts of killing myself for more years than I can count. It is a known feeling to me. It is not out of the ordinary and I have come to know the feeling well. But I have never known the feeling of wanting to kill someone else. Now, please, understand I do not mean that in an absolute literal sense. You do not need to call the police or think that you will see me end up on the nightly news. But, hear me out. These emotions are new to me and I am struggling to find the words for them.

I guess I should start from the beginning. In a story that is not truly mine to tell, but I am a character in nonetheless. I am not a central figure, which is why I have never written about it. But it has become a part of my life and something that can, at times, consume me. As my emotions are not always my own. I’m sorry if this is going to end up being a long post. But I feel I need to get all of this out. Maybe in order for anyone who is reading this to truly understand. Maybe so that I can understand as well where these emotions come from.

The story, well, it probably starts when I was a kid. And my sister first entered my life. I was 8 years old and she was 6. Our mothers became best friends and, in turn, we became family. I have been protective of her from the beginning. I have always fiercely defended her. When I was 10, I punched a 12 year old boy because he would not stop making fun of her, even after I asked him to stop. I have never fought for myself. But I have always fought for her. Always.

Now that you understand that I can jump ahead quite a bit. My nephew’s father was a highly immature man and so he left the picture when Austin was only six months old. Which, in all honesty, was for the best. But as a fairly young mother, my sister was terrified of being a single parent. And so the first man that came into her life, she clung to him as if her life depended on it. In the beginning, I had no real issues with Adam. He was good with Austin and seemed to believe in the concept of family that we had. I didn’t have a good feeling when I was around him, but I chalked that up to me just being protective of my sister and not wanting her to settle for less than she deserved. Adam was quite a bit older than her and had a really good job so I went along with it because she seemed to be happy. At first.

Adam and my sister rushed their relationship fairly quickly and, within a year, they were married. There was just something about Adam that none of us liked, but we put up with it because he seemed to be what my sister wanted. Then, slowly, all of the truth about him came tumbling out. Finding its way to the surface for all of us to see. He was an alcoholic. He was addicted to gambling. He was emotionally abusive. He was controlling. He had nothing to his name, even though he had a six figure income. He hated us. All of it came to light. Slowly, then all at once we began to see him for what he truly was.

I can’t even count how many times I have received calls from my sister in the middle of the night. Hearing her cry breaks my heart. Every single time. I have had to go pick up her and the kids in the middle of the night so that they could get a night of peace at my house. I have held her as she cried. I have listened to her pour her heart out. I have seen the fear in her eyes. The words unsaid in what she does tell me. There have been countless threats of her leaving him. Of her wanting to break free. Of her wanting to get out. At one point she actually did leave him for a couple of months. And during that time, she became the person that I remember her being. Because that was the other thing, while she has been with Adam she has become someone different. Submissive. Dependent. For lack of another word, a victim. But when she left him, I saw some of her independence coming back. Her motivation to have a better life. But it was only short lived. She wanted to give her marriage “one more chance”. And so she returned to him. About a month later she got pregnant with my niece. And that’s when things really went downhill.

My sister then felt that she was “stuck” as she now had another child to feed. And she was completely dependent on Adam. And he, in turn, became even more controlling. The situation became even more of a nightmare.

A month ago there was yet another huge fight and we thought that this would finally be it. That my sister would finally leave. But, yet again, she said that she wanted to give it one more chance. She told me that she needed to know that she did everything she could to make her marriage work. That she wanted no regrets. And so all I could do was tell her that I would support her. But in my gut, I had a bad feeling. I get those sometimes. Just really bad feelings. And I never know where they come from. But they’re there. And I only know afterwards why. And I know now.

A week and a half ago, just as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed that I had four missed calls from my sister. Never a good sign. But it is also something I have become used to as she will do that when they get into a fight. So I called her back a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. I started getting really worried. I called one more time. She answered. Through tears she told me that she would need to call me back as she was with the police. My heart started racing. My adrenaline pumping. Fear raging through my mind. Was she ok? Were the kids ok? What the hell was going on?

She finally called me back. Adam finally crossed the line that I was hoping would never be crossed. To be perfectly frank, he beat the shit out of her. Mostly in the face. Punched her at least ten times. And attempted to strangle her. She was attempting to leave. And he finally did it. He finally had nothing more to lose. And he crossed that final line between emotional abuse and physical abuse.

So here’s where my emotions come in. I want to kill him. No, I’m not going to. But I have so much hate towards him that I can’t even think about it because I can’t control the feeling. Like I said at the beginning, I have always protected her. With no regard for myself. But this, this I could never protect her from. Over the last three years I have listened to her. Tried to give her advice. Tried to get her to see the truth of her situation. But as I looked at the bruises on her face, the bruises on her neck, her eyes almost completely swollen shut, none of that mattered. I had to walk into a back room and close the door so she could not see or hear me break down crying. I have known heartbreak before. But nothing like this. To see her so damaged and broken, it broke me. I could not stop this. And so the emotions course through me. And when I try and think about them, to break them down into their components, I find that I can’t. There is just too much. I have never known anger like this. I am not naturally an angry person. But this, this is something else entirely. I know anyone would have trouble if they were faced with this. But me, I can’t control the emotions. The rage. The hate. The pain. The sadness. It’s all a mess inside. And nothing about this is ordinary.


loss.

I just logged into my facebook and the first two posts I see are from two different friends regarding them missing two different people that they lost in their lives. I take death hard. I don’t know if it is because of the BPD or that I’m just super sensitive, or what it is really. Just. When people around me are sad and broken, it’s like I soak it up like a sponge and feel all of those same emotions with them. I hurt for them. And I feel all of those emotions intensified within me. Even if the person that they are mourning for was not a part of my life, I still feel that loss as if it were my own. I know that sounds selfish, as if I am trying to seek attention or want people to feel pity for me, but I promise that’s not it at all. It’s just, I am so sensitive to those around me that I feed off their emotions. I don’t even know if it’s that I can read people well. That doesn’t quite explain it sufficiently. It’s like, I can feel them. Even if they didn’t say a word, my body and emotions inside of me would alter to whatever it is that is gripping them. I can feel what they feel. I can feel it almost more than they can. I hurt with them. And for them because I never want to see the people in my life that I care about feel emotions like I do. Maybe it is the BPD. I don’t know. But it sucks. I begin to think about everyone that I have lost. Those I still have yet to lose one day. Those that I am terrified of losing. Feeling that loss as if it were real. As if I could reach out and touch it and it becomes my own. I don’t really know how else to put it. Seeing someone that I care about hurt, I think it hurts me more than my own sadness. Because there is no outlet or reason for the pain. It isn’t mine. But at the same time, it is. And yet I have no explanation for it or way to ease it because it did not stem from me. If this is the disorder then it is one aspect that I cannot wrap my head around. It is something that I cannot change because I have no idea where I would even start.


fighting for the moment.

Amy Kay.  Her name always reminds me of Mary Kay, the beauty care company.  But no, she is an actual person.  She is one of my “core” friends.  We have lived hundreds of miles apart for our entire friendship, which spans nine years.  But she is that friendship where we don’t have to talk every day or see each other often to know that we share a bond.  She is one of the first people I would turn to if I needed something.  And I am the same for her.  We have gone years without seeing each other, but our friendship has never missed a beat. She has faced many different types of struggles in her life.  But instead of defeating her, they have only made her stronger.  She has been a model.  A choreographer.  She dreams of going to law school and is one of the most career oriented people I know.  She is also one of the strongest people I have ever known.  And her energy inspires me.  I could never imagine my life without her.

A couple months ago, Amy was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  For those who don’t know, MS is an autoimmune disease that affects the brain and spinal cord (the central nervous system).  So far, the disease has been progressing rather rapidly.  She has been diagnosed as Stage Three.  This means that the disease has spread to both her brain and spine.  She currently has ten lesions on her brain and three in her spine.  All of the lesions in her brain are in her frontal lobe.  This is the area that controls movement, short-term memory, emotions, etc.  She has become permanently blind in her left eye and is beginning to have trouble seeing out of her right.  She is having trouble with her coordination and will drop things randomly.  Some days when she wakes up, she cannot move her legs and, therefore, cannot walk.  She has permanent numbness and tingling on her right side and has lost sensation in her fingertips.  This once strong, independent dancer is beginning to become incapacitated.  She is only 27 years old. 

Yesterday, Amy came into town and so she came over to my house to hang out.  On the outside, she looks the same.  But when I looked into her eyes, I saw the exhaustion from the many treatments and hospital visits that she has endured in the last couple months.  We talked about how scared she is.  About how much of an adjustment her life has become.  We both cried and held each other.  When we first met nine years ago, we both had aspirations to join the FBI.  Over the years, our dreams and directions changed.  In most recent years she has discussed going to law school and the steps she needed to take to make that happen.  Last night, we talked about the odds of her being able to walk in ten years.  We also talked about the odds of her becoming completely blind.  This was conversation I never imagined having with her while we were both still in our 20s. 

I remained as strong as possible because I knew she needed that from me.  But inside, it’s killing me.  I feel completely helpless.  There is no cure for this disease and nothing I can do to make it better.  I cannot even offer to be by her side because of the miles between us.  I can’t hold her hand through every treatment or stay up with her at night when the medication she is on makes her unbelievably sick.  I cannot even tell her that everything is going to be ok, because I don’t know if it will be.  And I’m not going to lie to her.  No one knows if it will be ok, not even her doctors. 

The thought of losing her terrifies me.  I have dealt with a lot of loss in my life.  But never someone that I am this close too who is my age.  The rapid progression of the disease is terrifying.  This weekend trip that she took here felt almost as if she was saying goodbye.  Just wanting some final memories to store away.  One of the texts she sent to me the night before she came over stated that she wanted to “spend as much time with me as possible”.  She has never spoken like that before.  Where I currently live is her hometown so she still has lots of friends that live here.  So previously, if she would make trips here, it would all be preplanned and we would try to meet up if it was possible.  If not, that was fine, we would just wait until the next time we would see each other.  This trip was different.  It was completely spontaneous.  And it felt like there was a sense of urgency to see each other and spend time together.  At the beginning of the weekend, she went to one of her favorite places with her best friends from high school.  It was a place that she told me weeks ago that she wanted to visit before she went blind.  She wanted to be able to remember the beauty that the world held just in case she was never able to see it again.  That was the only place they went to.  Then when I got those cryptic texts from her, my world began to shatter.  I began to see her visit in a different light.  And it overwhelmed me emotionally.  

My grandma visited me and my parents three months before her death.  During that visit, I had this overwhelming feeling that this was going to be the last time I saw her.  The feeling was irrational as my grandma was very healthy for her age and had actually just had a physical exam that showed she was in great shape.  There was absolutely nothing wrong with her.  We had also already planned for my grandma to come back to the area six months later.  So it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to see her for a while.  So the feeling I had, I couldn’t explain it.  I remember sitting on the couch with her talking and I just started watching the rise and fall of her chest, thinking “this is the last time I’m going to see her breathe.”  The thoughts scared me.  And I put it off as just me being paranoid and me being irrationally scared to lose someone, as the BPD tends to make me feel that way a lot, especially about the people that I love and care about the most.  I’m absolutely terrified of losing people in my life.  Whether it’s from them walking away or from death, either way, I’m always worried about it.  Next to my parents, my grandma was the only true “blood” family I had in my life and she meant a lot to me.  So I just thought I was worrying about nothing.  Three months later, she was gone.  It was a freak accident.  After that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow I had known something was going to happen.  Because, in fact, that’s exactly how I felt during her last visit.  I felt like I was saying goodbye to her, even though I did not want to admit that to myself at the time.  Well, with this visit with Amy, I began to feel the same way.  I would like to think that I am just overreacting.  That I was traumatized by what happened with my grandma and I was thinking that this was the same situation when it wasn’t.  But no matter what I am telling myself, it still feels the same way. 

I dropped Amy off at the airport this morning.  I am terrified that that will be the last time I see her face.  That will be the last time I am able to tell her that I love her in person.  I even watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, just like I did with my grandma.  I made the most of last night.  We had an awesome time just hanging out.  She loved my girlfriend and, in turn, my girlfriend got along really well with her.  I told her how much she meant to me.  And she told me how much I meant to her.  If that was our goodbye, there is nothing that has been left unsaid.  So I can take comfort in that.  But, the truth is, I’m not ready to say goodbye to her.  I am so scared.  And there is nothing I can do.  I know I shouldn’t be concerned yet because she’s still here.  Nothing has happened.  But I just can’t shake that feeling.  Because what if I am right this time too?