One More Try…

As you all know, if you have been reading my blogs for any length of time, I have been on again/off again with my boyfriend, Choney. We were together for 6 years from 1996 to 2002 when things got too much to handle and I left the state and took my kids with me. Not that we had a bad relationship then, but he was still into dope and I was very sick of living like that. I had been clean for over a year but had started using again to try to make him stay home more; kind of the if you can’t beat them join them frame of mind. It didn’t work. I moved out of state. I had no contact with him for over a year, then we reconnected here and there over the next 15 years.

At one point I was visiting Utah and found out his mother had passed away. I had stayed in contact with her for years after I left, but had fallen off with contact about 2 years prior to this. I felt horrible and sad and wanted to extend my condolences to Choney because he was the closest with his mother. I reached out and we went out one night. All the feelings I had for him just rushed to the surface and it was like no time had passed for me. I saw him one more time before my visit was over and offered him and his daughter a way out of that life by moving to Albuquerque with me. He told me he would think about it. A week later, he called and I was on my way to pick them up.

From that point forward, things were tough. The first year was okay because we were still in the honeymoonish point again…but things quickly went downhill. His daughter was a demon, he was unmotivated to get a job or help with financial things around the house. He had only been sober from the day he left Utah, so his body was pretty fucked up from all the meth over the years. All those health issues started to come to light and we dealt with that for a long time. I also made him do narcotics anonymous programs for over 6 months to cement his sobriety. So after all that stuff had been dealt with (mostly), he would not get a job or better himself or our life in any way. I kicked him out and he went into a program for homeless single parents. He was there for four months. It was hard on all of us. I missed him terribly so by the end of the four months, I asked him to come home. That ended up being a bad idea. He still would not do anything for himself or his daughter so I did everything–financially, parentally (yes its a word now) and everything-ly.  I lasted about a year before I broke completely and kicked them out again.

This time, he and his daughter and son who had come to live with us by then (who was even worse than his daughter) moved to a homeless shelter. We stopped all communication for 6 months. I, again, as angry as I was, missed him horribly. So I contacted him again.

We talked a lot of things out that should have been dealt with before. It helped us both put the past shit behind us. Unfortunately, he was still not where I needed him to be as a man in my life.  So we just dated while he was in the shelter. It was hard as he wasn’t allowed to leave a lot. He ended up having to work for them and started realizing how much he could actually accomplish for himself. Unfortunately, for us, because I still felt he wasn’t contributing enough to our relationship–not financially, but emotionally, and making me feel like he wanted me to be there–I walked away again.  Once again, I was trying to do what was best for me and my own mental health, but still missed him.

We didn’t talk again for a couple months. He finished the program at the homeless shelter and got his own apartment and a job. All of it through the shelter, but still his hard work nonetheless. I helped him move, gave him some things to get started and went my own way again. It was hard.

Around December, I started missing him so much and his daughter had started texting me, so I kind of used hanging out with her as an excuse to get back in his life. I kept my feelings on the back burner because I didn’t want to put myself in another position to get hurt. So I just sat back and observed all the things he had become and all the ways he had changed. And I was impressed.

I always tried so hard to make it easy for him by doing all the things he should have been doing. So the fact that he did all that growing without my direct influence was hard for me. That would be my inner narcissist throwing a fit.

But I was also intrigued and impressed and, not gonna lie, pretty turned on. He had not only gotten himself in a good situation, grown up A LOT, but had also managed to get his health issues under amazing control. I won’t lie–that part still trips me out.  But it was like I had my old Choney back. He was confident and secure in himself again. He had found his self-worth and his pride once again. And it was all of those things he had been lacking so severely before.

It was like I had left a man in Utah in 2002 and brought a child (with a child) back to me in 2014. It was horrible and disheartening.  I was so angry and sad that he was not the same person I loved and left so long ago.

But this guy he is now? Its like someone gave me my soul back. I feel like this is the man I fell in love with 25 years ago…but a much better, smarter, sober version.  And I want to be part of all he is now.

Choney is, has been, and will probably always be my person. Whether we are together or not. He is the person that makes me the happiest, the one who holds the other half of my heart.

I feel like I have fallen in love all over again and I missed him. I missed us. I missed this. I missed the fact we know each other so well, the psychic kicks in. We can finish sentences (so gay, but true), he knows when I am struggling with my disorder and he steps up. He has researched so much about it and knows when to step up and when to step back in that regard. He is legitimately the only person in my life who has ever bothered to learn about my disorder and how to handle it and me. That has always meant more than I could ever explain.

I love being able to call him and just be able to conversate for hours. Even if we just left each other. The other night we talked on the phone for over 3 hours–I felt like a teenager. And we had been together all day.

I love that we can sing at the top of our lungs in the car or the house and not care whether we suck or not.

I love that he is the most affectionate person I know and he always needs to be touching me.

I love that he can express his emotions to me without feeling emasculated.

I love that he has grown so much.  And on his own. And yes, I do take credit for giving him the push out into the world he needed even though it terrified us both.

I love that he puts up with all my moods and quirks and weirdness.

I love that he has been sober for over 4 years now and with all that life has given him, hasn’t relapsed once.

I love him. I have for 25 years. And I probably always will. Even when I deny it completely.

He is still my person.

I would say wish us luck–but this time, we got this. I hope.


Thanks for listening.

As you were.

Goodbye and Hello.

So it is officially 2020 and I feel like I was ass-raped by 2019. I am still trying to recover from the clusterfuck that was last year–both financially and emotionally. I hope it ends soon.

So much happened in 2019–so many deaths and changes in my life and those I love.

All this changed me in some ways for the better and other ways for the worst.  But lessons were learned and priorities were changed.

It was what it was.

In 2020, I have new plans.

I have decided I need to be a better person all the way around. I have some behaviors I need to work on. Yes, I know it is cliche to start it at the beginning of  a new year, but whatevs. It’s what I am doing.

I am not going into detail because I realize that putting everything out there is just setting myself up for failure . Too much pressure. So I will quietly do what I need to do for myself and those I love…. and make this year and this me better. Period.

Happy New Year! Happy New Decade!

Thanks for listening.

As you were.

It Will Be OK.

My mom is going home. Home to her is Utah. She moved here to NM 16 years ago, a year after me and my kids did. She said she didn’t want to live without being around us. That made me super annoyed and angry. She was one of the reasons I left Utah to come to NM.  We never really got along well when I was younger–both as a child and a young adult. I had much anger and resentment towards her for things that happened in my childhood, so her following me to another state was super frustrating.

I walked away from her and her involvement in my life 3 years after she moved here and didn’t have any type of relationship with her for about 8 years. Then I stopped being an asshole.

And we started making a new relationship in which we were able to let the past stuff go and just move forward. I am forever grateful for my sister for making that happen actually.

That was about 6-ish years ago.

Now she is going back to Utah and there is a myriad of emotional fuckery happening in my head. And it fucking sucks ballsacks.

I love her, probably more than I have in my whole life. I appreciate her finally accepting me and all the ways I am an asshole and all the ways I am not. My heart is breaking thinking of her leaving, but my heart is also happy knowing she will be better off where she is going.

My mom has been having some neurological issues with her memory–both long and short term–for a while now and it has been detrimental for all of us (her, me and my kids) to watch the decline. It has really been bad the last 6 months, but has been on a slow downhill slope for a couple of years.

She is going to live with my sister–whom I don’t really have a relationship with–and I am nervous for her. I am also worried about my sister and her husband having to deal with my mother as well. Not because they cannot handle it or are not willing to handle it, but because they are already dealing with some similar issues with my bro-in-law’s mom who already lives with them and my mom is super stubborn.

My mom has always been strong and independent and knowing she is realizing that she needs help is hard. SO. FUCKING. HARD.

But she does need help and while I am glad she realizes it, it makes me incredibly sad for her. She is struggling. She is going to miss us–and vice versa–and she is having a hard time with that.

But she needs more help than those of us here in NM can give to her. Utah is the best option; she has my sister and her hubs, all of her family and many friends. She needs the mental stimulation this situation can provide and she needs someone to hold her accountable for things she won’t do here. She needs someone to make sure she takes her medication correctly and someone to help her go to her doctors appointments. She needs to feel needed and wanted and loved by her family.

I realize all of this will help her in so many ways….But , damn, as much as she makes me bat-shit crazy on the daily, I am going to miss the hell out of her.

I love you, mom. I am thankful that we were able to repair and recreate a relationship these last few years. I am glad I pulled my head out of my ass and realized how much having my mom in my life meant to me and how important you have always been to my children.

We are seriously going to miss you…



“You’re Crazy”

Talk about triggers. This is one of them.

Here is the thing. I know I am fucked up in the head. I know I have emotional fuckery on a regular basis. I know I don’t think in a linear direction. I know I am impulsive and ridiculous and dramatic and wrong a lot. I KNOW THIS SHIT.  I live with myself every single day and I am extremely self-aware.

I am not, however, crazy.

The dictionary defines crazy as “mentally deranged, especially as manifested in a wild or aggressive way”.  or “someone or something that is insane or not mentally sound. An example of crazy is an idea that makes absolutely no sense. An example of crazy is a person who is in a mental hospital and who is yelling, hallucinating and otherwise acting like they are insane“.

I am NOT crazy.

To me, crazy implies someone who doesn’t know their own mind or cannot take accountability for their actions.  Crazy implies that I don’t know what I am doing when I am doing it because I am not in my right mind to be that conscious of my actions. Crazy implies insanity. And I am not even close to insane.

Yet, I call myself crazy all the time. And I can. Because it is me and I am allowed.  And sometimes I can act crazy–we all can. It doesn’t just stem from a mental disorder. It’s a human thing.

However, when others call me crazy because of my borderline personality disorder or the way I act because of it, it triggers me. It makes me feel embarrassed and stupid and self-conscious. It makes me feel bad about myself.

And I do that enough on my own without having external influences make me feel that way also.

So, just an FYI, for those of you who deal with people with mental health disorders, don’t’ call them crazy, or tell them they are crazy for doing something stupid.  We take it literally  and it fucks up our already fucked up self-image.

Anyway–just a thought for the day.

Thanks for listening.

As you were.


It can get Lonely

Living with borderline personality disorder can be extremely lonely.

There are days when I crave the company of another person, but I know that I am way too unstable to deal with it. It can manifest itself as  anger, sadness, frustration, or a shitload of tears for no reason. It can even manifest as a physical ache…

With BPD, I never know what to expect; I don’t know what my energy level and moods are going to look like, what’s going to trigger me, or what impulses I’m going to experience each day. Sometimes I wake up in a panic. Sometimes I wake up with optimism and confidence, but a small, upsetting event or too much time spent thinking about stupid shit leaves me spiraling into a depressive episode. Most times I don’t even want to wake up because I am already exhausted thinking about what nonsense the next day is going to bring.

There’s a reason BPD is s called emotional regulation disorder. When I experience an emotion, it hits me like a tidal wave, and it becomes increasingly difficult – sometimes impossible – to see past it.

I know my friends and family  mean it when they offer their support, but I also know loving someone with borderline personality disorder can be overwhelming – to say the least. It’s one thing to have a meltdown every couple of months, but it’s entirely different to live with a disorder as unpredictable and intense as BPD. To avoid “burdening” those around me, I tend to bottle these feelings, fearful of “overreacting” or pushing people away. I know most people won’t really understand, and I don’t want to bother my friends with my fifteenth crying episode today or this week.

How do you explain to someone the burning feeling of emptiness in your stomach, swimming through your veins, breaking you down from the inside? How do you explain the lack of emotional permanence or the effort it takes to overcome the constant fear that everyone you know and love wishes you were dead because you are too much ?

How do you explain that, despite the positive people and events in my life, I spend most of my time fighting the urge to self-destruct or disappear?

Most days, I can’t even really explain it to myself.

It is lonely. Even those days that I am doing well, I still hesitate to interact with people because I just never know how long it is going to last. It is really hard to accept that this disorder makes me unique but not unloveable.

I’ve learned along the way that not everyone will care to understand the battles taking place in my head each day–especially when its a family member (that really breaks me), but some people will, and those people are worth the risk of rejection or isolation.

I try to remind myself that no matter how lonely BPD makes me feel, I am never really alone.

If you know someone with borderline personality disorder, please try to keep in mind that they are constantly riding emotional roller coaster every day all day, even if you can’t see it. So, if that person seems dramatic or attention-seeking, understand they are responding the way anyone experiencing pain, moods, feelings and impulses of this intensity would respond.  It is hard battling your own mind every minute of every day.

And I cry at the drop of a hat–usually inappropriately. If I am feeling anything, anger or tears are my first reaction–even if they are not what I want to convey. If I am tired or stressed or overwhelmed in the slightest, my normally intense emotions are even more intense and it is really hard to contain the spillage.  Oddly enough, I can recover quickly when both those emotions come–literally within seconds–but it is still damaging to my psyche.  It’s embarrassing to me that I react that way to anything emotional–I feel like people just think I am a drama queen and have no control.  They are partly right.

Anyway–while reading an article I decided to post about this aspect of my disorder because I have been feeling it more than normal lately. All I have done is pack and move and spend money I don’t have and now I am in my new house alone without my dogs and the loneliness is a bit overwhelming so this hit me harder than normal today.

Thanks for listening.

As you were.