Posts Tagged ‘emptiness’

Suddenly today I realized, that due to PMDD and recent saddening situations, either my brain itself , or an aspect of my borderline personality build a wall of steel around my heart. A no trespassing sign. An out of order type of flashing red beacon.

I realized that I do not feel anything positive. I’m not even in a bad mood, but I’m also not in a good one.

But this isn’t about mood swings, this is about the anomaly of the things that happen without warning or trying from trust being broken , gut feelings and the attached paranoia winning the race.

I feel no love. I know I love, but I cannot connect to it. There’s a short circuit. How do I learn to do this when I really need it , and not when I’m actually trying to remember what I felt before. It’s bizarre. Maybe it is good timing, as I have been overwhelmed with changing perspective and upheaval of friendships.

It’s so…NEEDED. I’m trusting my brain on this one. I know tomorrow, or the next day ( 1-2 days before the start of my new cycle), I will be crying at the beauty of a flower.

I wonder if this happens to any others. I feel, actually I don’t feel .. I see myself as somewhat of an alien today. Lately. So many thoughts.

I think this is rational mind. I think. I really …just have to trust that the wall is up for a reason and will come down when I’m ready. Very, very strange and hard to describe.

I wonder if this is what people with psychopathy are like all of the time. A disconnect from human love.

I suppose and admit that it worries me.

Thanks for reading.



I am speaking for myself , and for the many women and men I’ve met over the last 4 years who’ve been generous enough to share their stories .

Tonight My mind is clear, and I’m thinking straight.

The full moon had me completely disordered and lost ( see yesterdays post), and then I wake up today as normal and can be for me.

The whole day too. What an oddity.

These are the days I tune in deeply to my friends stories ,and their pain.

What similarities do I find within their stories .. what parallels , what jumps out , what have I figured out or been taught in therapy as to why we brood and contemplate living over this one , root cause of our pain which undeniably sets the tone for a life of emotional dysfunction ?


Beginning with familial, our earliest experience of the emotion.

Most of the time , we are abandoned , unwanted , abused , etc by one or both of our parents. Some worse or more obvious than others.

My story didn’t come to make sense until my thirties, but I digress.

” What is life without love !” , we hear. I often wish this emotion didn’t exist. And I often get my wish and don’t feel anything for anyone. Thanks BPD, sometimes you do something right.

Well, to us with bpd. It is non existent.

Often, we don’t even exist to ourselves if not being intensely cherished by someone we crave , want, wanted, or for any reason.

We don’t even really truly want it if we could easily get it. That’s the twist.

But when we knew someone wants us, wishes for us, thinks about us enough, or a lot , or even pleads for a word from us – we seem to feel quite well.

Why? Because that’s what we missed as children. Our life’s mission is to fill that void.

Some of us don’t make that connection, But I did.

Actually, to the extent of my psychiatrist drawing bone chilling parallels from my partners to my father.

Whether it was emotionally unavailable men, bi polar or psychopathic men, men with similar appearances , men who would use and/or abuse, there was always a tie to the past. Oh, and throw in a woman who was so much like my mother that my sexual connection shorted out.

An unfulfilled wish that quite frankly, would never cease until I understood the complexity , the darkness, but alas the simplicity of the connection.

I just wanted him to love me unconditionally. He was incapable, for reasons I understand now and have forgiven him for.

As an adult , I now know his story , his side , see his growth and willingness to see the pain he caused as an unfit parent for decades.

That, is why my time with the wrong men is over. Thank you ISTPD therapy. Thank you.

Now, I suffer for my friends who beat themselves to a pulp over the perceived or real loss of the current Love interests likelihood of meeting their expectations.

Usually, we attract narcissists and other mentally ill partners. Sometimes the relationship( or lack thereof) would be truly absurd to someone without bpd.

To me, I see it all from the standpoint of a borderline with enough knowledge, experience and understanding of the borderline mind , and the never met needs that we have for the subconsciously chosen unfit love interest.

We just want to be loved unconditionally. That’s ALL. Seems simple. Right?

But guess what, in my experience – a ” regular” guy that had genuine care and interest for me – pfft. Go away. I don’t want you in the slightest. I have actually experienced sick physical reactions to nice men. That comes from a childhood experience that remains unclear.

I’ll go after the psychopath with a girlfriend and take that abuse for 4 years and end up with Stockholm syndrome. Yep. That was my choice.

I’ll make a part two… but perhaps this is enlightening for someone. Remind me, because tomorrow I could be talking gibberish about my addiction and hate for people. Who knows. Only the wicked person behind the borderline wheel.

Thanks for reading,


Ps- not in the mood to edit. 🙂

At times it feels like a crowded house. Intense emotions swirling about;a chaotic tornado.

I swallow pink pills to calm the storm and smooth out the wrinkles;bring the flames down to a smouldering ash.

They bring me clarity and serenity – the kind you feel when you are sitting on a rock , looking out at thrashing waves , with an umbrella in tow , sheltering you from the rain.

I become an outsider to the war, unaffected and grateful to be outside the lines. As the pill wears off , I edge closer and closer ,until I am thrown back into the battle. There is no other way to stay on the sidelines.

At other times , often coinciding with the war  , lives  a vast and empty space . A deep black hole that echoes words that I can’t make sense of.

An aching in my chest that screams like a baby who needs to be fed. A longing , a yearning. I need something.


The only way I have filled this void for the past year is by stuffing pain meds and cigarettes into my mouth. Endlessly , never being satisfied. When I used to drink , it was the same feeling. Always needing more. Wanting to quiet the beast. I could no longer handle hangovers and regret , so I turned to a more stealthy drug- morphine- discreetly carried in small pockets of my purse.

I have never felt alright just being still ;alone with myself. Chemicals have always let me escape these feelings. A frantic, repeated attempt to thwart my inner war.

Working with an an addictions counsellor has only reminded me of the damage I’m doing to my body- how dangerous this is to my health. My nose , my lungs , and mind. I disappoint her each time we talk. I wish I could lie , and say I stopped. I’ve never been one to lie.People don’t realise the downside to being honest all of the time.

And of course , there is the possibility of overdose. It’s amazing that I haven’t taken one pill too many yet. My own tolerance amazes me. It just grows and adjusts.

For such a small woman , it’s astounding and frightening all at once. I can swallow a handful and continue on with my day – only if I’m lucky, I’ll have satiated the thirst.

How do I learn to not reach for these chemical pasifiers?

Getting high and numb is now my priority , and it will be the death of me if I do not change. BPD is winning every time I light up or crush up.

I’m scared to stop, for stopping means having to stare my empty or war filled inner world in its horrifying ugly face.

Nothing frightens me more than being without any crutches to carry my shattered self through each day