*Contains very strong language – don’t read if this offends you*
*Self-harm & suicidal references*
“I’m not even gonna discuss this, you’re making an issue out of nothing” – Holly
“It’s only an issue for you. I’ve moved on and have invited you to group events. You need to move on and stop making it an issue and discussing it, and making it awkward for our friends” – Holly
“I’m not discussing this anymore, on here or in person” – Holly
“I will not hear anymore on the Holly issue”
“I really don’t want to talk about her anymore. I can’t cope with it”
Why can’t anyone see that I NEEDED to talk about this?! She fucked up my whole life. What she did was not okay. What followed was not okay. Being badmouthed to all my other friends behind my back was not okay. Having none of them stand up for me, was not okay. Having them all wimp out of it, and meeting with her whilst I felt isolated, was not okay. People choosing her friendship over my wellbeing, was not okay. Being silenced by my friends, and not allowed to talk about my feelings around this major fuck-up of my life, was not okay. And is not okay. I cannot and will not be able to get over this. My voice has been silenced. I’m now afraid to even utter the word “Holly”, in case it upsets the applecart, and I lose more people because of it. But you know what, Holly, along with those other two people who I used to consider my friends, hurt me extremely badly – she was the bitchiest, nastiest person I’ve ever encountered, especially one I called my friend. She tipped my whole world upside down. And she kept crawling back for more. I want to forget her and the past. I know my friends want to do the same. Well, they don’t want to forget HER, they want me to shut up about what she did.
And this is why I’m splitting now. This is why I think I’m a shit person, and nobody truly wants me as a friend. They want her as a friend, and I’m the consolation prize. And it makes me think, you know what just go, be her friend, abandon me – you’ll be happier for it and I won’t have to feel so guilty for stopping you being friends.
I’m sorry that my talking about something that deeply destroyed me, stresses you out, I’m sorry I’m such a burden to you. I’m sorry I can’t just pretend nothing happened and that I’m okay with it. But you know what, you didn’t go through it! She wasn’t a psycho bitch to you! Why the fuck do people think they can comment on how I should handle things when they haven’t got the first fucking clue what it was like, and what it is still like in my mind because of these people?! Why can’t people accept that what these ‘friends’ did to me was WRONG?! Why won’t they just pure and simple defend me? Am I not worthy of loyalty and protection?
I have to keep my mouth shut now, just to please other people. Whilst I’m suffering so badly inside. Do they want me to slash my wrists open? Would that rid them of me, and all my pointless bullshit that I stress them out with?
I can’t talk about Holly. I can’t talk about the other two people who are mutual friends as well. Everything that destroyed my life, I cannot open up about anymore to those closest to me. Do you know how isolating and alienating that is? You should be able to talk to those closest to you about what’s troubling you. But I’m not allowed to. Because those closest to me LIKE all the people who hurt me.
And it makes me feel like repeatedly punching this solid wall next to me, until there’s a hole in it, and screaming until my insides fall out. Because how the fuck can they condone all the pain that these people caused me, and on top of that demand my silence? How can these people care about me, to do all that?
I have to break free. I have to get away from my past, and I can’t. And all the time that I can’t, I have this ‘untold story’ screaming inside me (though it’s been told many times… it’s not healed). Some people think something like this will just heal by ignoring it and pretending it doesn’t exist. Maybe that works for them, but thankfully we’re all individual on this planet, and people cope in different ways. I’ve been told all along for the last four years of my life that I handled everything wrong. I made the wrong decisions. People didn’t intentionally hurt me. They’re ‘not taking sides, but….’ they are defending the person who hurt me… and I just want to say to all those people who said or implied that I didn’t do what they would have done – fuck you. If you think you can handle all the shit I’ve been through in these four years, and handle it better than I did, then please, have my life. I’d gladly trade with any one of you. I’m sick of my past. Almost physically sick.
I am proud of myself for still being alive. What those so-called ‘friends’ did could and should have killed me. But I survived. And to have some stupid people, usually men, tell me that I made the wrong choices and didn’t handle it right, is a big fucking slap in the face. I’m still alive aren’t I? Okay, in your perfect world you’d have stayed friends with these people who stabbed you in the back. But that’s a guy thing, men get over things. Women don’t. And not only am I a woman. I am a sensitive woman. And I’m a woman with BPD and other mental health issues. I need people to have a little bit of sense, not to tell me my way of survival was wrong. Okay maybe you’re perfect and would’ve handled things amazingly…. but also maybe you wouldn’t. It’s easy to judge things from the outside and say, I’d do this, that and the other…. thrown in the deep end of emotions – seeing everything you have being stripped away from you – then what would you do? Talk to me then, once you’ve gone through exactly what I have. Until then kindly keep your opinionated mouths shut.
One aspect of BPD is the feeling of being misunderstood. Feeling alone. And this ‘alone’ isn’t about having nobody around you, or not having friends. It’s so much deeper than that. It is at the core. It’s inside the core, of the core of the CORE. It’s the feeling that the pain you’re going through could NEVER be felt by another… nor understood. We feel things SO much more deeply and in so much more detail, that we’re on a different level to ‘normal’ people. They can’t understand why we’re so upset. Why we react how we do. Why we can’t just move on and forget. They don’t understand – and not in the sense of they just haven’t experienced it themselves. It’s like, they’d have to experience being me, and feeling what I do, and going through what I went through exactly, in order for them to understand, and for me to NOT feel alone. But even then I feel they still wouldn’t get it. They’d still say ‘I’d do this differently… I wouldn’t feel so intensely upset about it as you do’ …. It’s that misunderstood feeling, like you’re abnormal, and always will be… just for feeling things more than most. And that feeling, on top of the immense pain and traumatic memories… it’s enough to make you want to end it, because nobody will EVER understand how hard it is to just exist in your mind, after all you’ve been through.
So, I’m splitting. I’m pigeon-holing my friends. Grading them. Based on their inability to understand me. When I feel misunderstood by someone close to me, my natural reaction is to explain to them, and try and help them understand. But this would require discussing the past in great detail, which I’m not allowed to do. And even if I was given the green light to discuss it, I’d be afraid to now. I’ve been robbed of my voice. And now I’m afraid to use it. So I keep it all locked inside, until it bursts out of me in rage and despair. I have no outlet. I’m one of the unlucky ones who doesn’t have someone to confide in at the end of the day…. someone to hold her and reassure her she’s a good person. I have no way to let out how I feel, other than writing now.
I never used to talk about my issues. And those were the days I harmed myself, and kept that quiet too. I’ve returned to this time of my life. I can’t talk about it, it builds up, I harm, I keep quiet about the harm (until now). But this is how it has to be. All my old friends taught me this. They taught me NOT to talk about what’s upsetting me, after the years of therapy which taught me TO talk about what’s upsetting me. They counteracted all that hard work. And I resent them for it. I really really resent them. In fact I hate them. They ruined my life. They stopped me talking about it. They destroyed everything I’d built, socially and through my therapy – I lost everything, including all the hard work on myself and conquering my self-harm… and then I have to deal with it on my own too. They have sent me back ten years in my recovery, and I can never forgive them for that.
Holly silenced my voice. She did not allow me the chance to talk to her about our issues and sort them out. And my other friends replicated that feeling when they forbade me to mention her again. In my ‘splitting’ mind, that makes them as bad as Holly… it makes them ‘accomplices’. It makes them her ‘flying monkeys’… her ‘enablers’. And I can’t shake that.
That’s when I will them all to go off into La-la Land and all be friends again without me… leave poor little me to rot away in isolation, as that’s how it feels daily anyway, trapped inside my mind, with my flashbacks… unable to talk to anyone about it. And it’s fair enough I could talk to new friends about it, but I’m afraid to chase them off, as I obviously pissed my closest friends off by talking about my heartache. And some would say ‘that’s what a therapist is for’… yeah, same problem, they often say things that make you feel you should shut up about it, accept it, and not release how you feel. I’m afraid to talk to anyone now about these things. But they’re a huge part of me. I haven’t healed. And anyone who thinks I should have healed by now can take a running jump. Either that or I will. I don’t need to feel like a failure on top of being a burden AND experiencing all of this hurt as well.
This is terminal though. There’s no way back. I can’t now be told I can talk about it – it’s too late. Damage is done. It’s irreparable. It’s put blocks in the way of my friendships with people. Not just the people involved but others too. I’ve built walls. I feel I can’t truly be myself with anyone anymore because of this. And I keep getting the overwhelming sense of ‘Why do I bother being here anymore? Nobody cares. Nobody understands. Nobody will ever really be my friend and stick around through thick and thin’. I’m too much hard work for people who cannot understand mental health problems. And I’m tired of trying to explain it to brick walls. I want people who understand me to the core. The ones who see the dark and hug me until it’s light again. The ones who make the effort for me. I’m tired of the torment in my brain. I’m tired of doubting my friends, and myself. I’m tired of BPD thoughts and urges. I’m tired of the crushing breathlessness in my chest, and the pain in my heart. I’m tired of feeling scared of those closest to me. I’m tired of waiting to be abandoned. I’m tired of hating myself. I’m tired of memories. I’m tired of life.
“I’m just tired”.