My Illness is Me…

A situation came up today and  I asked my daughter if she realized I have a mental illness. She said yes. Then she said, “but it doesn’t have to define you.”  To which I replied, “I realize that it doesn’t have to define me–but it does.”


Right now, this day, this week, this year, my illness completely and totally defines me and every nook and cranny of my life. It permeates all the space I occupy both mentally and physically. It is all I know. It is all I think about it. It is all I can focus on. My world is very small right now because my mental illness completely defines me…

I guess I never thought of myself that way–because it sucks honestly.

I remember a post I wrote a few years ago that was just the opposite. I remember then, that I was so sick of my illness defining me, that I wanted to shout out to the world that I was not my illness. And maybe then, I wasn’t.

But right now, this day, this week, this year? I am completely defined and ruled by my BPD and anxiety.  It effects everything I do, everything I say, and everything I think. My entire being is so focused on being mindful of my disorder and making sure that I am not freaking out and being unnecessarily cruel or mean or shitty. I focus every minute on stopping my negative self-talk that is a big a part of me as breathing. I am constantly criticizing every move, every word, every thought I have. Right now, that is my normal.

But I am working on it. Because I don’t want my stupid fucking mental illness to define me. I really, really don’t. But sometimes it is a necessary evil that it does—because it makes me very aware of myself.

One day I won’t be my illness–it will just be a part of me………  That day is not today.


My Comfort Zone is Anger.

My comfort zone is anger. What a weird fucking statement that is. But it is the truth.

Whenever my life or emotions or anything begin to spiral out of control–for as long as I can remember–the one emotion that I have always been able to count on is anger. And not just any anger–out of control fury and rage. That is where I am, ironically, most in control.

Which is just fucking silly. Because being angry or furious or in a rage, in reality, is really being completely out of control. But I feel like I have been angry for so long for so many things, I don’t know how to identify other emotions. When I do, they just piss me off–so back to anger I go.

Everything about being emotional and hypersensitive pisses me off. If I feel sad, it pisses me off. If I feel happy, it pisses me off. If I feel nothing, it pisses me off. I cannot win.

I have never–until recently–realized how everything goes back to anger. At the bottom of it, just being what I am, having what I have, being completely and totally out of control in my head all the fucking time—it just really pisses me the fuck off. So anger is what I know. Anger is where I am comfortable. Anger is what I think I can control.

What a fucking crock of shit. And the fact that it is such bullshit just pisses me off more.

Let it go. God, I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that–and said it to myself. If only it were that easy. If only I could let it go. What would life even be like? I wouldn’t know–since I have no idea how to live that way.

Having BPD, means I punish myself. I punish myself for everything, regardless of whether it makes sense or is rational. Everything I do, becomes a series of over-thinking, self-blaming and guilt. So much guilt. You have no idea. And having so much guilt, just makes me even angrier.

Because seriously–I am pretty sure everything in the world is not my fault. Even when it is, it is not serious enough to warrant the self-loathing that comes from it.  Yet it happens anyway. And I have never been able to stop it.

And I am strong. I know this. I am an incredibly strong person. I can give you examples. But BPD is the one thing I need to get over/manage/handle more than anything—and  I have absolutely zero control over it.  Oh, I have tools and skills and knowledge. But in the throes of an emotional breakdown or an anxiety attack–all those things I know go right out the window and I am left broken and embarrassed and ashamed.  And I don’t know how to not feel that way. I never have——-so I cover up my guilt and embarrassment and shame with anger. I build a giant wall around everything I am and nobody is allowed in. Ever.

I know this is not right. I know this is not healthy. I know this is not normal.  But it is my life.

I read a lot. I mean a lot. I read at least 40 or more articles or blogs a week on Borderline Personality Disorder, anxiety disorders, disassociation, social anxiety disorder, depression, PTSD, and on and on. (this doesn’t include the regular books I read) Anything and everything I can arm myself with knowledge about–hoping and praying that all that knowledge and insight and knowing that I am not alone in my suffering will help me deal with my shit better. And it does in some sense. It does help to know that I am not the only one out there that feels like the weight of everything is going to destroy me. It helps knowing that other people struggle in the same ways so I don’t feel like so much of a freak of nature. It helps.

Then it doesn’t. And that sucks.

One of the things that is prevalent in those with BPD and anxiety is the fact that they don’t like to be alone–yet they push people away. I don’t have that part I don’t think. At least not for the most part. I do push people away–but I like to be alone. I do better when nobody else has to deal with my shit. I do better when my anxiety isn’t ramped up my others being around me. When I am alone, it is when my mind is the most calm. Mostly. Sometimes the quiet can fuck with me–but I can always justify my alone-ness much more than I can justify treating others like shit because of something that has nothing to do with them.

The one thing that does mess with my head is when loneliness creeps in. Which, thank GOD, is rare for me. I can count on one hand how many times I have actually been lonely.  There is a huge difference in loneliness and liking being alone.

However, even when that loneliness creeps up, I still cannot work up the desire to be around people. At least not often. Because I am scared. Scared that one word, one comment, one feeling will break the dam and I will be seen as less than in control. And that one word, comment or feeling doesn’t have to be malicious–it can be something as nice and simple as –I missed you, you look great today, I love it when you’re in a good mood.  Those things trigger my guilt, which trigger emotion, which trigger a cycle. And then I lose the shaky hold I had on my control.  Other times, even “how have you been” will make me vomit out all my issues on someone and then I feel bad–because seriously, its not your problem. And it makes me feel like more of a burden than I already feel like.

This is my life. Nothing helps, nothing fixes it, nothing makes it better for very long. I have just become really, really, really good at faking normalcy for the most part–though that control has slipped in the last few years.

Regardless, even though it doesn’t seem like it–some things help: medication, counseling, incredible self-awareness.  I have my good days–sometimes more than one at a time in a row. Those times feel like a miracle. The problem with this is that to have more than one good day in a row, I have to isolate myself from the world.  I know, I know–that makes no sense.  But it is what helps me the very most; not interacting with other humans.  This is probably why social media is such a prevalent part of my world. I get to interact but not interact, if that makes sense.

Online, I can do and say what I want and I don’t care about others’ reactions to it like I do or would in a face-to-face situation. I am less likely to get triggered by a comment on a social media platform and even if I do, I can talk myself down much quicker when I am alone.

As you can imagine (or cant), this brings me even more guilt, which brings anger–it is literally a never-ending cycle. Especially because I have such great people in my life and I know that my isolation affects them. And I hate that. Luckily, even if they don’t quite understand it, they accept this about me. I appreciate that more than I could ever tell them…..

So anyway, I guess I will stop rambling now–I am kind of running out of things to say for the moment.


I don’t fake my illness—I fake my well-being.

Again, here I am, writing because an article I read today really hit home. So I wanted to share it.

My main disorder is Borderline Personality Disorder, however I also have a side of Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Unfortunately the anxiety makes my BPD worse and the BPD makes my anxiety devastating.   Its a vicious circle. One that I am never, ever, no matter how calm or “normal” I seem at the moment, released from. I am always living in a heightened state of anxiety, no matter the situation.  I have learned to live with it. Sometimes it is worse, sometimes it is better, but it is always there….

And it makes me act stupid. It is why I cannot maintain constant eye-contact  (that and a bit of PTSD from childhood and a psycho stepdad).  It is why I am always moving my foot or rubbing my fingers together. It is why I am always quiet in a crowd. Or it is why I cannot stop talking. There are so many sides and phases to my disorders that I cannot keep them straight most of the time. But again–I have learned to live with it.

My only regret is not being able to explain it to people in my life that don’t have these issues.

But, back to the article:

The ones in bold really encompass my own feelings and life. And the comments in italics are mine–not from the article.

1. “It can come out of nowhere, even without a trigger, and overwhelm you at any given time. It’s very powerful and scary. Feels like a heart attack, a dizzy spell and a punch in the gut all at once.”

2. “A lot of people with anxiety disorders are in a constant state of anxiety. It’s not something that comes and goes. It’s a 24/7 thing that can’t be turned off or turned down no matter how hard you try.”

3. “‘Anxiety’ is a term used very loosely. It’s not often that people acknowledge just how debilitating it is.”

4. “It’s hard to have a relationship when you have anxiety… anxiety causes low self-esteem and low self-worth and sometimes we push people away because of it.”  (not sometimes, in my case, always. I always push people away. I cannot handle the judgement and lack of understanding and having to explain myself or constantly apologize. It is easier alone.)

5. “Hyper-vigilance — some of us are super aware of things going on in our surroundings, whether we’re conscious of it or not. This makes some of us easy targets to scare, and it can take a while to calm down from something like being tapped on the shoulder.”

6. “It’s exhausting. Being tense and on edge is physically and mentally draining. It is so much more than just the mind. It affects appetite, behavior, emotions — everything.” (I think this is why I sleep and nap so well and frequently. I am constantly exhausted.)

7.People with anxiety can feel helpless and suicidal. These thoughts are not only associated with other ‘more severe’ mental illnesses.” (I talk myself out of dying almost daily)

8.The physical issues that come with it. Constipation. The runs. Puking and much more. All the ‘gross’ stuff that no one wants to openly admit.”  (I have been diagnosed with Irritable bowel syndrome/diarrhea—however, I think its more anxiety than actual IBSD.)

9.Violent and tragic intrusive thoughts, like not being able to stop imagining family or friends you care deeply about dying horribly and painfully.”

10.A panic attack looks different for different people. I’m good at masking them in public, pretending to be part of the conversation, nodding strategically because I can’t even speak.”  (very often I will stop speaking because everything in my is focused on not having a panic attack in front of someone. Sometimes I will even lash out to make them leave so I can have my attack in peace)

11. “Sometimes, once you have it under control, you feel a little less like yourself. It’s so all-consuming that when it’s gone you almost don’t know what to. This little devil sits on your shoulder, and when you’re able to brush him off, you miss the company.”  (this is probably the truest thing on this list for me–when I don’t have anxiety I don’t know how to deal with life. I am so used to be in a heightened state of emotion that when it is not there, I feel a little lost)

12. “It’s common for young children to be labeled as ‘bad’ because people don’t understand anxiety disorders in children.”

13. “Nobody talks about how everyone experiences anxiety differently. While I may need space, cold water and a tune to hum when I’m feeling especially anxious, others might need a shoulder to lean on and a peaceful distraction. This lack of conversation is particularly harmful because I and many others often have our experiences with anxiety invalidated when we tell someone that we experience anxiety in a way they may be unfamiliar with.”

14. “The guilt is there even when I’m feeling better. I feel such shame and guilt for all of the broken promises, dropped commitments, jobs I had to quit and events I missed. My anxiety is the thief, but I still feel like I’m at fault.”  (I feel constantly guilty, even when I do things that help my issues. And if I lose control, it compounds the guilt by thousands)

15. “The physical part, the rapid heartbeats, the numbness, tunnel vision, being completely fatigued and physically worn out after an episode.”

16. “It gets boring. I have the same obsessive thoughts and worries over and over. I replay situations in my head for hours.  I turn molehills into mountains until I can’t think of anything else. I get hung up on one detail and it’s all I can see for days. It’s boring, it’s repetitive and it’s overwhelming.”

17. “It can cause you to snap at people when they’re doing something that triggers you. Then later, when you try to apologize or explain, they don’t understand.”  (this is the worst part for me–is taking it out on people around me, especially my kids (guilt again). And sometimes I am just so embarrassed or ashamed that I cannot even bring myself to apologize–it just makes it worse, so I just let people think the worst of me. It is easier)

18. “Even if I take medication, it doesn’t mean I’m suddenly free of panic attacks and anxiety.”  (medication only takes the edge off–it doesn’t make it go away.)

19. “Anxiety can make you jump to a wrong conclusion really fast.”  (this is my super power)

20. “For me, sex/relationship difficulties stem from anxiety.”

21. “It’s just like depression in the sense that there isn’t necessarily an answer to the question ‘what are you depressed about?’ Depression is an illness. It’s ‘about’ an illness. ‘What are you anxious about?’ Who knows?! I just am. The end.”

22. “Anger can come with the anxiety. I show irritability when my anxiety is high and it makes me seem like an unhappy person. I’m not, I’m just spinning out of control in my own mind.”  (anger is my go-to emotion. It is my comfort zone. It always has been. Learning to identify other emotions aside from anger has been extremely difficult.)

23. “It affects every facet of my life. The constant tension, irritability and fear seeps into every part of your daily existence. Snapping at the people you love because they’re doing something making you more tense, sleeping so lightly that every noise wakes you up. Anxiety shapes your day.”  (the only problem I DON’T have is sleeping lightly. I am usually so exhausted, I fall asleep quickly and sleep deeply. However, this does not mean I wake up refreshed. I am always, always tired.)

24. “Anxiety is such a powerful emotion. It’s hard to explain how it really truly frightens you to the point where is controls your life. It feels like being in an emotionally abusive relationship with the negative thoughts in your head. No escape.”  (I guess it means I am never alone? Anxiety will always be my number one partner. I know how to make everyone else go away, I wish I knew how to make anxiety go away.)

25.Anxiety isn’t always people freaking out externally or imagining the worst case scenarios, blubbering out loud about it. It’s more than that. Anxiety can be silent, unheard and internal. You’re freaking out internally and panicking and sometimes, keeping it all in will result in those moments when we just break down.”

26. “The paralyzing self doubt that comes along with anxiety can manifest itself is procrastination when it comes to doing things with your life or certain tasks. It makes you seem lazy.”  (It takes so much for me to just get up off the couch or out of bed to do something as simple as clean the kitchen or vacuum the house or clean my room. I have always just said how fucking lazy of a person I am. When in reality, that isn’t actually the case. I am just.. SO. FUCKING. EXHAUSTED. all the time.)

27. “There actually is a level of healthy anxiety that helps us to perform well on tests, in athletics, in school plays or similar. The issue is when it starts affecting your everyday life and stops you from doing the things you love or stops you from being successful.”

28. “We constantly swap and wear masks to hide how we really feel. We are human chameleons and masters of disguise, so other people don’t see our panic and pain.”  (YOU never see the real me. YOU only see what I choose to show you. There is not a person on the planet who has ever seen and dealt with my true self. I am a good judge of character and I usually know (or assume) how much of me you can actually handle and still want to be in my life)

29. “It’s a nightmare to find the best course of treatment. Medications can help, but they also have side effects. On the other hand, natural remedies don’t always work the same for everyone. Be patient with us while we are trying to figure out what is best for us.” (There are very few medications out there that I haven’t tried. Prozac is my go-to drug because it calms my brain the best. However, the side effects suck. I kind of get flat-lined so instead of emotional insanity, I seem to have no emotion at all. In reality, all the emotion is just bottled up a little better and I can fake in front of everyone just a little bit more. Of course, this is not something you ever get to know about–because having to be on medication constantly just so I can function in some “normal” manner shames me and irritates me and makes my negative self-talk ramp up. I cannot win for losing.)

30. “The fear of anxiety can also cause it.” (yup, the fact I have anxiety causes anxiety. the fact that I have BPD causes even more anxiety. The fact that most people dismiss it as me “throwing fits” or “being difficult” causes even more anxiety. Welcome to my hell.)

The link to this article is  here:

Anyway–hopefully this made whomever is reading a little more aware of what I live with and what others with anxiety live with on a daily basis.

Just because you cannot see what someone is going through, doesn’t mean they are not going through it.

Those of us with mental illness–especially high functioning mental illness–learned early on how to fake it well.



Guilt Trip much?

Guilt trips. Aren’t they a fucking blast?

My stepmom is great at them—or was. I guess it depends on how you let it affect you. In the past, I always gave in because it was easier. In the present, I have decided that instead of playing the guilt trip game, instead I am going to play the lets do what is best for Ron game. This is much more helpful to my psyche. And freeing.

So fucking freeing.

So I know I have mentioned before that my biggest triggers are my dad and stepmom. This is what we covered in counseling today. So I guess I get to write about it tonight.

I was very emotional for the first time in over a week. I think it started when I got a present in the mail from my dad and stepmom. Super fucking passive aggressive. Especially since my stepmom works literally two blocks away from my house and it would have taken like three minutes to drop it off. But no, in an attempt to send a message to me, they paid $8.50 for postage to send it in the mail. They live about 20 miles from me. Stupid.

So the message was clear–we are never going to get you to the house, so here is your birthday present. Fair enough. It is what it is. Again…super fucking passive aggressive–meant to inspire guilt so that I would call them and explain why i haven’t been to their house or so they could try to guilt me into coming there. Same shit, different day.

They play off my guilt and sense of obligation. They always have. It gets old. Unfortunately, I have always given in, so why would they stop what always works, right?  No more. No thank you. I am not in the mood for a trip, guilt or otherwise.

So I made a decision today to stop allowing them to guilt me into doing something that I barely recover from every time it happens–spending time with them. I know, I know, that sounds super harsh–but the thought of going and dealing with my dad and his ignorant comments and my stepmom who pretends to be interested in my life, but is really only interested in the things she wants to hear, gives me severe anxiety–to the point of panic attacks. It it ridiculous.

Today, my stepmom called. I debated on answering the phone. I didnt answer the phone last week because I wasn’t in a great place mentally. Today I was feeling a bit empowered due to counseling, so I answered the phone.  BAD FUCKING MOVE. Here is how the conversation went:

Her: Hi, how are you?

Me: fine.

Her: I called you last week. I left a message, but you didn’t call me back. I wanted to see if you guys wanted to come over last weekend, but I guess you didn’t.

Me: I know, 

Her: Well ok. Ummm, so your aunt and uncle will be in town this weekend and we are going to have a bbq, so if you guys would like to come over, you are more than welcome. 

Me: Ok–I will tell the kids. I am not going to be coming, but I will see if they want to.

Her: Oh, well ok then. Whatever. I guess if the kids care enough, have them call me and I will give them the details.

Me: ok.

Her: Are their phones back on? 

Me: Their phones have never been off.

Her: Oh, well I have tried calling them and I always get a disconnected message.

Me: Then you are not calling the right numbers because they  have never had their phones shut off.

Her: Oh, ok, well, I guess. I can’t imagine I have the wrong numbers, but whatever. Talk to you later. Bye.

And then she hung up.

Ummm—I am sorry. But “IF MY KIDS CARE ENOUGH”????  Are you fucking joking???  You do know the phone works two ways, right? And you do know they are fucking teenagers and young adults, right??  Family isn’t that important in their lives right now–sorry to burst your fucking rose colored bubble.  If they care enough. Fuck off.

Grrrrr–just reliving that conversation makes me want to punch a baby. I don’t know if you can hear the condescension when you read the conversation, but trust me, it is very much alive and well.

THIS—- THAT bullshit is why I stay away. This is why I plan on staying away for a while. I am done being treated like I am the asshole here. Or maybe I am the asshole. I am actually fine with that too.

But for once, this asshole is looking out for herself. I am sick of being manipulated and guilt-tripped into doing things I don’t want to do, cant fucking handle doing, and pretending it is all roses and puppies. It’s not. It never has been.

I realize my parents are of the school of thought that mental illness is not a real thing. I get it. But seriously—have you even been paying attention to who the fuck I am? Because if you had, even a small bit, you would realize there is something not quite right about my fucking brain.

But I digress. I know they don’t want to deal with my disorder. I know they don’t beleive it is a real thing–no matter how many times I have tried to explain it, or sent them links to websites about BPD. They hear and see what they want and don’t deal with the rest. Such is life.

I am moving on. I cannot and will not allow them to have this much power over my well-being anymore. I am allowed to take care of me–even at the expense of a relationship with my parents. Not like its ever been  healthy one to start with…. nor will it ever be. They are too stubborn and stuck in their ways—and I am too stubborn and fucking mental to be bothered anymore. And honestly, its not like they have been a good support system for me in my life–so why the fuck have I even wasted time feeling bad I wonder?

My life has to be about me  and I am sorry if other things have to fall by the wayside for a while….

Such is fucking life. Learn to deal. Away from me.

I Did Good.

I think I did good this weekend. I put up my pool, which is my very favorite thing in the whole world. It is the calm in the center of my ever-present storm; the one place I can go and just let my mind drift away from the chaos. I can float in my pool for hours and hours. Just the sheer peace of it is beyond words.

However, once I filled it, I realized it has leaks. UGH!  This actually pisses me off. A. LOT.

Usually these things send me straight into a downward spiral of fury and agitation and irritation. This weekend, however, I just managed to accept it. I realize I need to fix it–because I need my pool like I need air–so I have been problem solving instead of letting it get all up in my head and sending me off to crazy-land.

I am rather proud of myself.

I actually managed to get through the entire weekend without a breakdown of any sort. Which has not happened in so fucking long, I forgot what it was like.

Another thing that happened was I received a birthday present from my Dad and stepmom. In the mail. Which is completely out of character for them. I think they finally mailed it because I have been giving a million excuses as to why I cannot make it to their house.  So they tend to give up on me pretty quick. Welcome to my life.  They do not understand, nor deal with my disorder very well.  Which triggers the hell out of me. I cannot even remember a time in my life that I did not get triggered by my dad and stepmom.  My dad is just kind of an insensitive ass–and me being overly sensitive, you could see where this causes a ton of problems for me.  My step-mom thinks she likes to know what is going on in my life–but she only like to hear the good stuff. If, at any time, I get triggered into a cycle around her or when I am talking to her, she will stop talking to me until I  “get back on the radar”.  So avoidance is the way they deal with me… Fucking awesome. Like that doesn’t put me on a road to self-loathing…. but whatever. Not their problem, right?

Right. Which is what I am learning. Self-care, if you will. One of the things I am trying to remember is that it is OK for me to feel the way I feel even if my perceptions are out of wack. Even if my feelings are irrational and stem from anger or hurt or some percieved injustice done to me by another. No matter what I am feeling–it is okay to feel that way. And then move on–without the cycle of self-hate, self-loathing, self-destruction. I am learning. I still have a lot to learn.

That cycle is my comfort zone. It is what I have done and said to myself for as far back as I know of—  It is where I live 90% of the time. It is the danger zone. It is what I need to break free from eventually.  But that takes time. So much fucking time. UGH.

That is probably hard to understand for those of you without a mental disorder. The negative self-talk that is like a second skin.  The heightened state of emotion that I constantly live in. This makes the slightest thing a fucking mountain to me. All my senses are always on fight or flight—and damn if it isn’t exhausting as hell.

I also managed to have lunch with my mom this weekend. Family always triggers my emotional fuckery. But I did good with her. We had a good time. It was nice.

Regardless of the path I take each day—whether it is the journey to the seventh level of hell or just a pit stop on a cycle–I am getting better. Slowly but surely. I cannot say how long it will last–because it never does last too long. That is the nature of this beast.

But for now, I will stop once in a while and recognize the good things I do and the times I actually have enough sense to use the tools I am acquiring.

Maybe someday the cycle of self-hate will be replaced by self-love. I cannot even imagine a life like that–but one can dream, right?


11 Things About Me and My BPD

I found this article and it really encompasses what my BPD feels like in some sense. I have pretty much copied it—however,  I have changed some things that are more relevant to my issues..

It’s hard to talk about my borderline personality disorder (BPD), but it’s even more difficult for those close to me to understand. I decided to compile this list of my 11 truths of my BPD that also have been hard for me to recognize until now. These are my 11 truths, and the 11 things I need my loved ones to understand about my BPD.

1. I’m afraid you’ll leave me. 

What if you get tired of me or fed up with my mood swings? Questions and fears about you leaving me are always at the back of my mind, and I need frequent reassurance.

2. When I’m mad at you, I’m more mad at myself.

I hate that I overreact when we argue, and I’m always more mad about that than I am mad at you.

3. I don’t want to hurt you.

Some things I say or do may make it seem like I’m trying to hurt you on purpose, but please know that’s not the case. I love you, and I would never purposefully hurt you.

4. I hate my medication.

Taking it is annoying and I hate that I am only functional if I take it. I know the consequences of not taking it and they are not pretty. I hate that I will have to take it the rest of my life if I want any sort of “normalcy” in my life.

5. I don’t like being asked ‘why.’

Asking me why I feel a certain way or do certain things isn’t helpful because I don’t know the answer. I know that I have BPD and I know my symptoms, but I don’t know why.

6. I don’t mind my heightened emotions (most of the time).

I like being emotional about the good things. When I’m happy or enjoying something, I am truly happy and wholeheartedly enjoying it. So, I don’t mind that BPD heightens my emotions, except when they’re not good——–because when they are not good, I have no control.

7. I scare myself sometimes.

My thoughts race and sometimes get out of control and pretty frightening. It’s hard to admit, but I do scare myself when I think my thoughts might turn into actions–I literally talk myself out of dying almost every day.

8. I wish I had a better filter.

I don’t like when my words hurt, and I don’t like that my BPD makes me brutally honest and unnecessarily brash at times. I wish I had a better filter because I want to say what I mean and say what’s in my head without it coming out in a way that I don’t mean.

9. It’s hard to keep my trust.

I have a hard time letting go of the past and that hurts my ability to trust. It’s hard to gain and keep my trust, but it’s not impossible, and I’m sorry if that makes you work harder to love me.  Little things make me stop trusting–because my brain makes mountains out of molehills.

10. Sometimes I need to be left alone.

It’s not that I want you personally to leave me alone, I just want to be left alone sometimes. I need space and I need you to understand and accept that.

11. I have a hard time thinking rationally.

This is probably the truest of them all. My mind always catastrophizes and goes to the worst case scenario, and I may need help finding the rationale in my life. And it may not be able to happen right then–sometimes I just need to cycle through the irrationality and then come back to reality and figure out my shit. Sometimes it won’t always work—with or without help.

I feel like it is important to know these things about me… So maybe you can understand why I act like I do, where I am coming from in a sense, and possibly feel better about not being able to help me..  

Nobody will ever be able to “fix” this about me. Not even me. Its just something I have to live with. And some days will be worse than others. Some days you will never know I have issues—other days that is all you will see.

Please. Be patient. And don’t stop loving me.  That is all I ask.

By Madelyn Heslet: via @TheMightySite


So am I selfish for wanting something I’ve never had? I love Choney. I really do, but I don’t think I am in love with him anymore. I don’t know if I have been in love with him for a while. I tried to tell him that once. It didn’t go over well….

But I don’t want to do this with him anymore. It feels phony and sad and it gives me such bad anxiety. That is one thing I don’t need is anymore anxiety.

I want something different in my life. I want a responsible, self-sufficient, adult male–with a job and a car and his own place. Someone who is in the same position I am in–kids are grown, just living life day to day. I don’t want to raise another child. Much less a child and her father.

I know he is trying. I give him all the credit in the world, but at the end of the day, it is not enough for me. I want more. Does that make me selfish?

Just the thought of him coming over gives me such anxiety, I almost have a panic attack. I am not even nice to him much anymore. He comes over here, and I barely talk to him. He doesn’t care.

That is almost the worst part of it—-he deals with whatever the fuck I dish out. He always has. It doesn’t matter how bad I treat him–he still maintains he loves me and wants to be with me.

Somehow I think its more that he is lonely and desperate for anyone. He has never been alone and I think he doesn’t know how, so he puts up with whatever I dish out.

That makes my respect for him pretty much non-existent. How can you even be with someone you have absolutely no respect for? I can’t.

And even worse than that, I have absolutely no physical attraction to him at all anymore. Is there even anything left after that?

Ugh. I don’t know how to get myself out of this situation. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I feel like the longer I put off breaking it off with him, the harder it will be for him.

Maybe I can make him break up with me? Is that the pussy way out?  Fuck. I have never broken up with a guy. I always just leave and never bother with them again. I feel like Choney deserves more than that….

And he is in such a weird place in his life… I feel like this will push him over the edge. And I don’t want to be responsible for that….

Fucking hell—why can’t shit be easy?