You Don’t Know Me…

So there is this thing that just drives me nuts. They say that imitation is the greatest form of flattery. I don’t know if this is true but I don’t believe it in my own case. I know that sounds weird, but the one thing that irritates me to no end is someone who acts like me.

By this I mean someone who doesn’t have their own thoughts, opinions, habits, ways of saying things, ways of acting, that are not their own. Instead they adopt mine. Its like saying what you think I want to hear. You don’t know me enough to know what I want to hear—even though I have said repeatedly that I prefer the truth above all things. I don’t care if I don’t believe it; I don’t care if I don’t agree with it; I don’t care if it hurts my feelings. I will live. I would rather have an ugly truth than a pretty lie. Because when I find out you are lying to me—and I will—then you just lost my respect and trust. So really, what is the point?

I just reread what I typed and its a bit confusing. My thoughts are a bit jumbled today. Last night they were clearer about what I wanted to blog about today, but time moves on and my brain moves with it. So I am just going to say what I can remember and make sense of it later. It just needs to get out of my head.

One of the things I was thinking about last night is how my perception of myself is so fucking different from other people’s perception of me.

Your perception:  smart, funny, strong, capable, independent, open, happy, transparent, reliable, attractive, fun, big-hearted, passionate.

My perception:  stupid, dumb, useless, worthless, a burden, bitchy, mean, abusive, closed, weak, dependent, emotional, angry, irrational, irritable.

My perception of myself is SOOOO different from your perception of me. I hear yours, but instead of believing it, I immediately think “oh damn, I am a great actress”. I don’t know why I cannot or will not believe that I am all those things that people think of me. Have I just beat myself up for so long that I don’t know how to ever see myself in a real way?

The really stupid thing is that in my heart I know I more your perception than mine. The reason I think this is true is because when I make a list of the good things about me and the bad things about me, the good list is so much longer. But even seeing it on paper doesn’t convince me. I don’t know why that is. Am I so wrapped up in being miserable that I don’t know any other way to be? I hope that is not the truth…………..but I have a feeling it probably is. Such an ingrained habit. I try to make it change, but I just have no idea how to not live this way. It always comes sneaking back in because of my stupid self-loathing thoughts.

Even practicing, I do okay for a little bit, then I go right back to “I’m just kidding myself that I am this person” as soon as I lose it even once. I just feel like I cannot win for losing with my stupid brain.

I wish I could rewire everything in there. I see all these other people in life and on tv and wonder why I cannot be like them. Why I cannot seem to grasp that key to being happy. I wouldn’t even want to be like them…If I could just channel my work self and make that my all the time self, I would be happy. I am so different at work than I am at home. I don’t really even know why it is such a huge difference. But it is like a switch. I become my best me at work and as soon as I leave work, I revert to the demon me. I wish I could figure out why that is.  And then change it.

But until that happens, I will keep writing and searching and praying and counseling.


Fuck My Life—Sometimes.

I know people know my struggles—from the little I tell them. What they don’t know is what I go through every single fucking day–ALL DAY LONG.  It only takes one little thing to set me off on a tangent and I barely recover each time.

So I am going to let you in on what every day of my life feels like. Even when you think I am doing well and in a good mood and whatever..  Behind the scenes all this is happening.

Proceed with caution.

Always overanalyzing everything, from something as simple as taking longer than usual to reply to a text message to saying ‘hello’ instead of ‘hey.’ It’s exhausting.

Losing my temper. At times I have actually scared/worried the person I’m with because my anger is so bad. I shout, cry, swear and afterwards cry even more because of the amount of embarrassment and shame I feel for being so vile. It feels uncontrollable at the time, and yet when you reflect, you feel like you should have been able to stop it. It’s frustrating.

Lacking trust. I trust nothing and nobody anymore. My paranoia from this stupid disease has gotten me to the point that I feel like everyone is out to get me. Not all the time, but when something goes missing, or something should have been somewhere its not anymore, I immediately start thinking people are fucking with me, because I don’t understand how the fuck it could happen. Yes, my logical brain is in there telling me different, but my BPD brain couldn’t give a fuck what my logical brain is saying.

Sleeping. People don’t understand how often I have to ‘recharge.’ Simple things are exhausting, especially when there’s social interaction,especially with my family. I’m not being lazy when I go to sleep early and get up late…. My body and brain clearly need a break.

I pick little fights to test you and see if you will leave me. Especially with my boyfriend. I am terrified of him leaving, yet I spend my life pushing him away.

I ask a lot of questions I know the answer to because of my fear of failure.

People don’t realize I don’t ask for help when I really need it due to the anxieties around rejection and abandonment. In fact, if I do ask for help, its because I have hit rock bottom and have absolutely no other options.

Neutral and mundane words, situations and facial expressions are often distorted in my perception and interpreted as threats of abandonment and rejection. The smallest real or perceived slight can send me into panic or desperation. It’s hard to simply have a conversation sometimes or go home at night and fight off the constant anger or panic. It hurts so bad and can last a long time. This then leads to other difficulties like impulsiveness and insecure attachment patterns. It is exhausting.

Because of my fear of abandonment and rejection, I often overreact when I feel like someone has slighted me. You didn’t reply to my message? You texted me without a smiley face? You walked by me in the hallway without saying hi? You cancel plans we had? I immediately assume you’re mad at me, that you’re avoiding or ignoring me. And my reaction to that is to go into defensive mode. I’m angry at you because you’re ‘obviously’ angry at me and I don’t know why (although I run through a thousand possibilities in my mind). I shut down. I avoid you so I don’t have to face you outright rejecting me. I get unreasonably upset. And then people don’t understand why I’m upset because as far as they know they didn’t do anything wrong. I wish there was a way I could make people understand how my mind and my emotions work and that I can’t help overreacting to something that seems irrelevant. To me, everything is a mountain…

I self-sabotage everything. Things could be going well, but I find a way to destroy it. Super fucking awesome.

Being tired all the time — ALL THE TIME. I’m just always really tired from having to deal with life and my head.

I’m constantly holding back my feelings because they change so often that I never know how I actually feel about something until way later. They are influenced by everything around me. I can love you one second and I hate you in an hour. That is why I can never commit to an emotion because I don’t trust that it won’t change.

I change the subject of the conversation immediately if the subject is unpleasant and causing a reaction — anger, sadness, fear, etc. I avoid those and so I change the subject so often that not only my friends, but I also, get lost in the conversation.

Sending a long text, ending it with “you don’t have to answer” because I don’t want to be a burden, and then getting mad when they don’t answer because even though I said it was OK, I think if they really cared they would have responded.

When I’m quiet, it’s not because I have nothing to say. I’d rather let the emotions storm inside me than say the wrong thing and hurt you.

Asking people if they are mad at me.

My emotions, good and bad, are amplified, and often times, my reactions can seem like they’re an overreaction. In reality, I feel everything too intensely and react according. 

I am unreasonable. If you don’t agree with how I am feeling about a situation, then you don’t care about me. Even when I know in the back of my mind, I am being dramatic and ridiculous, I still get stuck on that thought.

And if I haven’t mentioned it above, I am ALWAYS tired. So exhausted and overwhelmed most days by the bullshit of my thoughts and emotions, I can barely make it from day to day without just wanting to end it all and put myself and everyone else out of misery.

Welcome to my hell.

I Can’t Win for Losing….

Today was a shitty day. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. I started yelling at Choney the moment I got in the car due to his lack of follow-through, then after finding out Adrianna has been doing really good in school since the previous drama, I felt better. We went to her Holiday festival at school and for some stupid reason, I was feeling good about myself.

You think I’d know better by now that me feeling good and stable is a fucking sign of bad things to come. So I went ahead and called Roberta to see if we could come this weekend to do Christmas with them and my kids.  Unfortunately that didn’t work out the way I planned.

So long story short: I thought I could be ready to be back involved in their lives and yet less than five minutes into the conversation, I was crying and on the defensive. I don’t know what I expected, I guess.

I thought that everyone was just waiting around for me to pull my head out of my ass…however, I realized the hard way, my head is still way the fuck up there. I was thinking I was strong enough…emotionally less rocky enough…smart enough to jump back in with both feet. WRONG FUCKING ANSWER.

So now, I am not going to see my dad and stepmom and I have managed to not only make them feel shitty, but I have managed to wipe out all the work I have done in counseling about not self-bashing, negative self-talk and blaming myself. Yup…been doing that since 630pm. Its been fucking awesome.

I did find out some interesting things in the conversation though… the first one being that someone on my Facebook page decided that my parents needed to know about my blog. So yeah…nothing like a big helping of guilt to go with my misery. Thanks whoever you are for doing that… Oh wait.

So now, I get to hear about how hurt and betrayed my parents are because they found out things they didn’t know via a third party who really had no fucking business putting my shit on front street with them. Can you sense some anger here? Yeah…I am a bit pissed off. Again…whoever you are, thank you for making my already giant mound of guilt even bigger.

Now, don’t get me wrong….I totally get that I put my shit on front street all on my own….and I do that for specific reasons. One, to get all the bullshit that festers in my brain out, and two, to make people understand who and why I am the way I am. If you have a problem with what I say or who I say it about, then 1)- don’t read my shit. 2)- remove yourself from my pages. 3)-fuck off.

I would like to reiterate that I DO NOT WRITE FOR YOU. I write for me. I don’t care if you don’t like it. Its not put here for your approval. This is my blog. That is my facebook page. If you can’t handle my truth, then move the fuck on with your life. Seriously. My shit here is personal…extremely personal..and I will not apologize for anything I say on my own sites.

I took me a few years and more courage than I can tell you about to make my blog public….  And my reason’s for doing so are mine.

Anyway….so back to the reason I am writing. So I talked to my stepmom and she kept reiterating that if I was comfortable coming over, she was fine with it, but she didn’t want anyone that was there to be uncomfortable in any way. So me, being me, took this as she was just really not comfortable with me jumping back in like that. She did elaborate that they have struggled with having no contact with me for 8 months (kind of shocked its been that long actually), which I guess I never realized. I know normal people would realize this, but this is not how my brain works. I honestly thought me taking a break from them would be a relief for all involved.

I am a burden. I know this. I live this every day. It’s the reason I have to talk myself out of dying every day. I know that I am hard to deal with. I know that I am irrational and dramatic. I know that I am way too emotional to ever live a normal life. I know that I am burden. I am a burden to myself—-so it makes perfect sense in my head that I am one to other people.

And it doesn’t matter if they tell me that is not the case. In my mind, I know better. Welcome to my borderline personality disorder.  I hate myself, so I just assume everyone else feels the same. I know in my logical brain that is not true…………..but because I don’t have the love for me that others do, I do not, can not comprehend why the fuck anyone cares about me. Especially my parents. I have done nothing in my life but disappoint them.  I actually said that to Roberta today and she said something to the effect of “you’re not a disappointment, me and your dad just think you have so much more potential”.  Well, in my mind that translates to ” yes, you have never lived up to our standards and yes, although we would never say it like that, you are a disappointment”.  I am not stupid.

I know that I have not lived up to my potential, whatever that may be. I know that I have wasted a lot of time and money and life on bullshit that never helped me move forward. I did exactly the opposite of pretty much everyone in my family. My dad has said (sarcastically) before “you’ve been at this job for a year now, isn’t it time to move on?”  Umm, seriously?  Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? No? Well let me tell you… like a fucking loser. And I know I am a loser—it is really not necessary that you point it out. I get it. I live my life. I know what I am.

I told Roberta they were always judging me…and I judged myself enough for everyone…so I couldn’t deal with their judgement. She was actually offended by this. I am still struggling to figure out why.,,,,,  I won’t lie, they are some of the most judgmental people I know.  I know Roberta tries to keep an open mind, but my dad is soooooo judgy. He’s always been this way… you’d think I would be used to it. I guess for years I was…and I am exactly the same way. So its hard to say shit when I do the same shit.   But since my BPD took hold, I no longer deal with things well. UGH.

Another thing she said was that she thought that my meds and counseling were going to help fix this.  Hmmmm…little does she know that BPD cannot be fixed. Like I told my mom previously:  the way to successfully beat BPD is to die a natural death..not one by your own hand.  That is pretty much the only way this is every going to be “fixed”. And trust me, that is a daily struggle.

Of course all this perception is from the mind and emotion of a borderline…. so most of it is probably pretty screwed up in my own head.  But I cannot stop the way it feels, and my mind is one big clusterfuck of bullshit.

I wish I could let them in so they could see what being me is about…. But I don’t want them to hate me forever…..


Emotional Disassociation?

I was reading an article this morning on emotional disassociation. It really hit home for me for some reason. Having BPD, I know that disassociation occurs–but it is usually not so specific; it is more generalized.

For those of you who don’t know what BPD disassociation is, here is a good definition. When I have regular disassociation, I will tend to act in a way that goes against what my brain is telling me. My head says one thing but my actions don’t give a shit.  I will say and do things that I know better than to do–but it is like I cannot stop myself–I feel like I am watching myself from the outside and my outside self is telling me to shut the fuck up already, but my inside self isn’t paying attention at all. Then I end up feeling like a complete asshole and having to apologize for my stupid ass behavior and shitty ass words. I hate when that happens. It just amplifies the guilt…and my whole life is one big guilt party. I hate that I add to it….

I have huge gaps in my memories. I remember some things, but not others. I tend to forget arguments that escalated me to a severely heightened emotional state. I tend to forget situations that caused me emotional or physical pain. I honestly don’t remember over half or more of my childhood. I can see pictures and have no recollection of the event. Its like looking at someone else’s memories with me in it.  However, I will randomly recall events that I don’t know whether they really happened or not… Sometimes I wonder if they are true memories or I once saw a picture of it. I never know.

I have learned to deal with these gaps. I don’t really know any difference honestly. I always thought it was just normal BPD disassociation, but after reading this article about emotional specific disassociation, I now wonder whether I tend to do that more. On a normal day, I cycle through emotions about 5-7 times.  By this I mean I feel things very quickly in a row:  anger usually starts it, then it goes to sadness, guilt, frustration, annoyance, and back to anger.  I cycle through all these intensely within a time-span of about 4 minutes. Then it is over, but I am exhausted.  I am always exhausted. BPD is fucking exhausting; the never-ending emotional fuckery sucks.

Anyway, back to emotional disassociation. So as I was reading this article, I realized how much of my life I have forgotten—from past stuff to present stuff.  For example, Choney and I were having a conversation about a conversation we had a few months ago. I didn’t remember it at all…. but the stuff he said I said sounds like something I would say.  When he was telling me about it, I remember getting a bit emotionally heightened and while I didn’t realize it at the time, I think now that I tend to block out the things that put me in that heightened state. Maybe it is a defense mechanism so that my guilt doesn’t trigger too much.  Especially when I was the asshole in the situation. Which I am a lot. UGH.

Its just weird how I will basically ignore so much of my disorder, then I read an article and all of the things that relate to this come crashing down…kind of like an epiphany. Like, oooohhhh, thats what that was.  I kind of hate it and kind of appreciate it. Its a fine line.

Anyway, just thought I would blog this thought so I remember it later….

Thanks for listening.


Death of a Pet

There is literally nothing harder than the death of a pet–aside from the death of a child. I don’t know why it is so much harder than other deaths. At least that is my opinion. I get so attached to animals–so much more than humans–and I don’t know why. Probably because humans are vapid, heartless, abusive asshats.  But again–thats just my opinion.

We had to put my moms’ dog down this week. It was so hard. It was time, he had some health problems and he was getting ornery. He had his third bite issue last week and three strikes your out here in my state when it comes to animals biting humans…even if the bite cannot be proven. Which it couldn’t.  But because of his past and because of the assholes dog he decided to fight with, my mom made the decision to put him down. It was soooo fucking hard. She was a wreck, I was a wreck, Nykee (that’s the dog) was terrified and confused, Choney was a wreck. It was horrible.

This dog was my moms entire reason for living. So with his death, we get another worry on our plate: will she manage to not kill herself.  Joy. She has severe depression and her dogs are literally her only reason for living… especially Nykee. Her other dog, Flex, will hopefully pull her through it, but he is struggling as well. Poor baby. He doesn’t know where his brother went and why he didn’t come back with his mom….  he whines at the door, sleeps in his kennel, cries all day, doesn’t eat, etc. He is in mourning. He will eventually be okay–probably sooner than the rest of us–but it is sad as hell to watch him be so confused and uncertain.

I love this dog. I have always loved this dog but I didn’t think his death would affect me so harshly. I cried for hours, and hours, and hours. Then I slept and woke up and cried some more. My eyes swelled shut, my head clogged up and it still makes me cry when I think about it or have to tell someone about it.  I cannot even IMAGINE what I will go through when I put my own babies down. I think I shall just go down with them. i don’t have enough strength to get through it….

Anyway–send prayers/healing thoughts/good vibes my way so I can pass them on to my madre…

RIP: Nykee– enjoy playing with your ball for the rest of your life. Bite who you want. Run pain free all the days!



That is how I feel today. So fucking useless. I am shitty mother, a shitty girlfriend, a shitty daughter… <—this is what is happening in my head—-which makes me feel worthless. Which puts me into a cycle of self-bashing. Which just triggers all my BPD things. Yes, before you all jump on my page and tell me I am not useless or worthless, know that I know that in my right mind….  However, it doesn’t stop my cycles when I am in the midst of emotional fuckery.  Trust me, I hate feeling it as much as you probably hate reading it. I fucking hate it. I hate every second of it. I hate that I have to deal with this. I hate that it makes me hate myself.  BUT, this is why I write….. Even when I am feeling useless, worthless, shitty, etc., writing makes me feel better. It helps me to put everything in my head on paper and that does two things for me; it gets the chaos out and it makes me reexamine why I feel the way I feel about something. Then I am able to decide what I can and cannot handle….

Today in counseling I learned about something called radical acceptance. It means accepting things for how they are, even if you don’t approve, just because that is how they are. It doesn’t mean you agree or disagree with something, it just means it is what it is and there is nothing you can do to change it at this time, so just accept it.

OH. MY. GOD. I struggle with that so hard. My control issues rear their ugly head and make me feel bad about just accepting things that easily.  I need to be the one to make the decision…I need to be the one to manipulate the situation to one I can handle. Accept it????  HA!  Fuck that. I am not built that way.

However…………I need to rebuild I guess–because there are so many things, so, so , soooooo many things that I cannot control (I hate that, by the way).  So I guess I have to accept that. And the other thing. Fuck life.

So right now, I am so frustrated with my son and his lack of motivation. I keep thinking he will figure it out, but he is doing it so fucking SLOWLY. I cannot work at a snail’s pace. No matter what I say, do, threaten, etc, he just does what he wants.  Today I issued an ultimatum. I told him you have a month—a month to show up at school every day or a month to get a job. Whichever. At the end of that month, if neither has been accomplished, you need to find a place to live that doesn’t involve me.  Then I went to my room and bawled like a baby. I wish I could explain the way giving my baby boy an ultimatum feels. It feels like my heart shattered into a million pieces. Every part of me feels like shit about it. But I know what happens when I enable…. and I have always been able to do the tough love thing. But fuck this one is killing me.  And trust me, it is not just my baby boy. When I had to do the same with my daughter I was destroyed then as well—–but there is just something about your youngest, you know?

I wish they could understand how hard it is for me to do that to them. I know they feel hurt and betrayed and frustrated. Too bad they don’t realize how much I feel the same x 10.

So here I am, dealing with all the shitty feels. Isolating in my room because I cannot stop crying for more than five minutes at at time.  Awesome.

Anyway–there is not much more to say regarding this. I have other issues, but I am not mentally prepared to deal with them tonight. Maybe next time…

For now–peace out.


Who Am I?

I was sitting at dinner with my boyfriend the other night and I had just come from counseling and had “homework” to do. That homework was talking to him about the things I had recently had issues with and things that were making me feel bad about myself/our relationship/him.

Side note–I tend to keep all my shit locked away until it finally gets to be too much and I vomit bullshit on whomever is lucky enough to piss me off in that moment. No bueno.

Because of this, I am learning to just talk about my feelings when they happen. Fuck if that isn’t the hardest thing I have to do.  But I am learning. Baby step by baby step.

So, we were sitting at dinner and I decided to do it in a public place so I could have a little more control over myself and not embarrass the both of us by acting out.  This actually works for me. I do tend to end up crying because I am embarrassed by just feeling the way I feel sometimes, but I handle that OK, even in public. The public part just stops me from yelling or getting shitty.  Bonus for all.

OK, back to the situation at hand.

I was supposed to talk to him about how I had been feeling recently and why I had been isolating so much over the past couple weeks. It surprised me how intuitive he is–because he kind of already knew what my issues were. However, he does not like conflict or rocking the boat, so he tends to just ignore stuff. This is not good practice with someone who is so emotionally needy and needs someone else to start the conversation…

But I opened up and told him how I was feeling (he was actually feeling some of the same things) and I did it productively. I took  responsibility for my part in it and gave him some suggestions on what to do the next time I get to that place. It went well.

Isolation is my go-to coping mechanism. Especially now that I have pretty good control over my outbursts. I use it as a way to make sure I don’t take out my anger/agitation/irritation/etc on someone who doesn’t deserve it–since it has very little to do with most people.  What I learned from counseling this week is that isolating is pretty much the same as blowing up—-nobody understands why its happening and they just leave me alone til I am done. Which, sadly, backfires for me.

I learned that sometimes I isolate just to see if someone will give a shit.  So stupid. So fucking stupid–but truth nonetheless. It embarrasses me that I do that. That I have that stupid little needy ass pathetic side of myself that I manipulate to see if I am cared for. I know in my right mind that is part of my disorder—but it makes me so ashamed of myself when I have to admit it out loud.  UGH.

So this introspection brought me to the point where I started thinking about all the shit I do that “protects” this part of me that is so needy and vulnerable.  And while talking to Choney, he mentioned that one of the things he notices is how different I am with everybody in my life.

Looking at that, he is completely correct. I am my most real with him. I have so many personas for different sets of people that I sometimes don’t have any idea who is the real me….

My personality at work is the most controlled. Most people I work with have no idea I have a mental disorder.  I am the most “normal” there. Its’ once I leave work that the control slips and I can no longer contain the surges of emotion that cycle through me.

I also have a different personality with my dad and Roberta than I have with my mom. My friends also see a more real side of me than my family sees. My kids and Choney see the most real me that I have–which isn’t always a good thing–but is the truth regardless.

While thinking about this and all my different personalities I put out there, I started wondering why I do it. Here is my conclusion.

I do it to protect them–and in a sense me.  Most people don’t know what to do with someone who has a mental illness. It is a difficult thing to not only accept, but to deal with.

My family for example, especially my dad and stepmom, refuse to believe I have a mental illness–they just think I throw fits. Super supportive.  (<–sarcasm alert).  So for them, they see the minimum I can handle and that I think they can handle. They don’t get all the facets of me–they get a very small part. Once in a while I will slip and they will see a part of me I don’t usually show.  I hate those times. It makes me feel stupid and vulnerable and stupid. It tends to shock them a bit–especially my dad who is in total denial that I have issues. But such is life. I, unfortunately, don’t feel supported in any way by them…..they are too busy judging me. Hence why I am taking a break.

My mom used to be the same–but since we have gotten so close, she see’s much more than she ever did. For whatever reason, I decided that when I started talking to her again after so many years that I was going to try to just be my regular, crazy, emotional self and if she liked me, good. If not, oh well.  Surprisingly she doesn’t mind me. I do think I tend to worry her more now because she doesn’t see the old locked down me, but I like that I don’t have to hide who I am with her. She tries so hard to understand–which nobody has ever done before in my family–and it helps me a lot for her to realize that its not her that I am acting like this because of, but it is my disorder that makes me like this. I so appreciate that with her.  She is super supportive even though this disorder makes no sense to her….

My friends see one of the best parts of me…. and sometimes the not so best parts..but they all love and accept me regardless and I can’t explain how good that makes me feel. I try not to let them have to deal with all the shitty parts–but knowing that they would if I needed them to goes so far for me…. making me feel secure and loved and not so lost all the time.  My friends are amazing. Even though I don’t see them much because I tend to isolate so much, they still understand even while it frustrates them and they don’t allow it to damage our relationship. They let me do things at my own pace and that alone? There are words to express how I feel about that… they are fucking incredible. And I love them more than they will ever understand.

My kids. God, my kids have been through so much with me and this stupid BPD. They have seen the monster that lives in me and they still love me. I can’t even tell you what that means to me and how truly beyond grateful I am that they still accept me for all my faults and all my bullshit and all my emotional fuckery. THEY are the reason I am still fighting this every day…  THEY are my reason for being…THEY are my love, my heart, my soul and my life. My kids blessed me and continue blessing me in ways they can’t even fathom. I owe my life to all three of them–they are my saviors, in so many ways they don’t even realize. I love them more than I have every loved anything in the world.

My dogs. See above paragraph about my kids. I feel the same about my dogs. I didn’t save them—they save me. Daily.

My significant other. Choney sees the realest me, like my kids do, and accepts me. Unconditionally, even while it makes him angry, frustrated or sad at times. He loves me regardless. And he gets the brunt of my emotional shit. My kids probably appreciate that…lol.  But he still hangs in there, reading and researching how to better help me through those rough times. He has learned when to leave me alone and when to step up. He still has days that he has no idea what to do or how I will react to things, but he learns every day and does what he can. He is my rock. My calm in the center of my storm. The best part of me. I cannot tell you the love I have for this man–even when he frustrates me to no end. He is incredible.

So there you have it. My eternal question of who am I. Not a question I have ever been able to answer simply. I am so many people–and those people depend on who I am with at the time or where my emotions have taken me. I am a thousand things and feelings and more.

I guess that is my answer… least until I come up with something better.