Posts Tagged ‘despair’

…Is the knowing that there is no cure , no medication, nor merely a bandaid to put over my furiously rampant monster of illnesses.

I’ve gotten to this point , slowly but steadily. A bumpy and painful decent.

Despair doesn’t always come across in conversation, but it does sit on the back burner in view.

Reading a memoir of journal entries by a courageous man with borderline personality , addiction issues, and major depression is comforting , yet it also triggers the thought that yes, I may struggle for the rest of my life.

In addition, I have a handful more that I’m lucky enough to call part of me, so I’m definitely a goner. Right ?

I am not one to count my illnesses as if it’s a game or a competition, but I can’t help but think .. “I have double the diagnosis as this poor guy. “How am I still alive? ”

And what for? To shun all my friends only to share seemingly random pictures and blogs?

To create some art that stems from the abstract and unusual thinking of my broken mind ?

Well, I guess for now it’s something.

I’ve begun recording every day-my thoughts, emotions, situations, successes and also failures.

I have a recorder on my phone , plenty of space on both of my cameras to make videos ,two ongoing journals ( one for my mental illnesses, and one to record tarot readings of my own and of other readers )

Is my purpose simply to show that one can survive excruciating agony and still be in awe of a new leaf on a plant I started from seed? Or to deeply enjoy such things as a birds song , or the thriving vegan movement I’ve been cheering for for 3 years ?

There is such a dichotomy to my mind. Such confusion and different choices to make over a seemingly mundane tasks. Like, which side of the table should this plant go on?

My illnesses can seem to melt together and actually become me , speak for me , BE me -or , I can sometimes find a slight hole to peek out from and shine for a moment or two.

But one thing is for sure , I never , ever have a full day of consistent mood , thoughts, or actions. I just don’t grasp what that’s like , sadly.

( later that day..)

As I slammed my door with tears streaming from the echoes of my doctors subtle yet clear voice to use what I have learned to ” cope”, the thoughts of driving into the river , or screaming for help in the middle of a parking lot appeared as if they’d been next in line anyway.

I refuted these impulses and grabbed my go to medicine. “Harm reduction”, I thought to myself , well knowing I was lying .

I came home and shut myself in, turned on my go-to , depressing Radiohead station, and with a haunting familiarity, lay motionless on my bed as if to mimic being in the coffin I already felt that I was in.

But then, almost to my chagrin, I decided to think of how loved ones may perceive this. Probably with worry. No, most definitely.

Dbt decided to come into play without my permission, but I granted it just to see…

Then, my day turned around.

Maybe there is hope. Strategy , a distraction strong enough to grab my spinning emotions and have them spill out until it’s just me and my core feeling. Ready to grasp onto even the tiniest of spoken belief that there is always hope.

All this to say, if one person who you love and loves you -despite what you perceive as your innate ” flaws”, can see through the fog to a beautifully talented , inspiring and not so difficult to be around source of joy , then – maybe there is reason to stick around til the crowds clear and everyone is gone. What’s the harm ?

Having cleansed my overflowing volcano of of a heart with tears attached to many different emotions , I feel at ease. Dare I say , content.

What a phenomenon . Maybe I wouldn’t be so lucky if dealt another’s hand. Okay, that’s enough positivity for one blog.

Remember to send love, and kindness if only through your energy to those who need it. You really never know how much they may be on the edge and that love could be the hand that helps them down.

Cor

Note : I will edit this tomorrow, so I apologize to the sticklers for any spelling or grammatical errors.

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Sigh,

It’s one of those eye opening times for me.

You see , I had a traumatic experience back in The winter which left me with zero desire to chase, date, be with sexually ,or pine after anyone. I mean anyone. Funny how something that I was not so long ago addicted to, means absolutely squat to me now.

To the point where if we talk for half a day and the convo is just dropped, I really don’t flinch. Somehow , I stopped caring. I don’t want that anymore.

I feel no need whatsoever to get wrapped up in a ball of sadness, madness, increased symptoms , crying, raging, memories, self destroying , etc- over attaining love.

And for us, as previously stated – it is almost always unattainable. We subconsciously set ourselves up for the fight. For ultimate doom.

Being on the outside , and having many many close people in my world from day to day, suddenly there has been this incoming hurricane of destruction in the lives of so many that I once knew as themselves , forging their way through life like the rest of us. Winning some, losing some.

But I began to notice just how inexplicably blind we become by the idea of love. Of being cared for. Of having that someone , or else we are nothing. We don’t know who the he’ll to be or who we were.

It’s really strange , and I can’t say I’ve felt this way before , but my complete hatred for the idea of love as a borderline has sent me into being quite oppositional and confrontational with these people.

One the one hand, I truly KNOW the experience. But, I also know the likelihood of succeeding to fill our love bucket that has a gaping hole in the bottom.

It’s gotten me down, avoidant , into a lesser type of splitting.

More like sternness. More like – I cannot hear another word about how these criminal animals have RUINED who I know you are. The beautiful person I see outside of bpd.

I simply cannot take in the pain I know they feel and the back and fourth traumatic drama as long as these men are around.

So why, if we have any self reflection at all, and try to be as calm, happy, and cope with this illness the best we can, do we build this lie and beat the horse until it’s skeleton is crushed into dust. Why?

Is it me? Am I now an outside to the idea of finding love because it’s been several months ?

I wish for it to end. I wish to be blunt and cut off any ties as if to say, ” if you continue, I can’t be a part of it “. It’s simply so devastating to see, and it is painful. It’s brutality against oneself. And that’s not what I ever wanted for these beautiful people.

Enough of that. I think I made my point.

My own reality stared at me intensely through my cards today as if to point the finger directly at my weakness. Tell me that it’s over if I continue on my own borderline path of self destruction.

But who am I girl, who am I.

I thank you for reading. Best,

Cory.

Oh, we all know that with bpd we go up and down more than a pogo stick.

When were down, everything is dark. Scary, negative. Unfair. Deserving of hatred.

Then one day, we wake up and think ( well I do ..) – yay!! Sunshine and flowers! I love life and everything that it contains!! Let’s listen to music and dance in the kitchen! Let’s start 20 conversations with people I ADORE ( but hated it felt slighted by yesterday ).

Let me love bomb life, people, and myself. I LOVE MAKEUP AND BEING CREATIVE.

There’s not enough time in the day to enjoy all that I see and have! Omg ! Maybe if I just..prolong this. Stay up super late. Don’t eat because it brings my energy down. Skip my calming meds. I just want to LIVE THIS MOMENT.

Eventually , the crash comes. The trigger hits. The inevitable downfall of everything that was sunny a moment ago, becomes the enemy.

I want to die. I hate them. I hate myself. I’m horrible. I’m not talking to anyone. I want triple my meds. I don’t care if I don’t wake up.

And , this is my cycle. Worst part is, I never know, and can not figure out how to be consistent. It’s a spinning wheel and my mind chooses where the dart lands.

Welcome, to borderline personality disorder.

Cory

Always reminding myself when I have days upon days of anxiety, depression, massive adhd and ocd challenges , and of course – borderline moods and everything that comes at random in the lovely package deal, that I KNOW… this too shall pass. No feeling is final.

After 35 years, when I am in the depths of mental hell, I still cannot believe my own attempt at self comfort. I feel like I am and always have been stuck in the exact feeling I am in. But that’s not true. Why can’t I KNOW, it will come up again. I’ll regain clarity, motivation, joy.

It’s such a bizarre and messed up mental catastrophe , which seems different yet so similar each time – and no matter what people I love reassure me of , I just deeply do not , and I mean outright refuse to consider.

Now that I am back to ” myself ” , I don’t even remember those 4 straight days of anguish and pain.

I suppose there are two sides to every coin. This selective amnesia can actually be of help. I don’t WANT to remember yesterday’s pain. I’m actually forced into mindfulness by squeezing every last drop of good that is my current yet fleeting existence while it lasts.

How long? Only my mind can decide. Or can I? The quest is never ending. But I’m still here. I’m still here.

Bless.

Cor