“Pathetic Slut”

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*Self-harm & suicidal references*

 

Wrote this the other day…

 

Wednesday 15th January

It pains me to have to write this post. I’m filled with shame and embarrassment. But I need to get this out there, to organise my thoughts and make sense of everything I experienced yesterday.

 

Despite saying I’d never do it again, I tried to tackle a problem head-on by being honest about my fears and my feelings. It backfired and resulted in the same things I experienced at the IAPT service I used two years ago.

 

I was afraid that I’d go through the same problems in a group setting again. When I started one of my groups, I was horrified that it was run by two young men. I was scared I would catch “feelings” again (which last time I referred to as ‘transference’ – but this time I’m saying that phrase is BS and invalidating of what I’m experiencing… which is simply attraction). I did indeed catch the “feelings” and now everything’s ruined… again.

 

I don’t know where to start so I’ll just dive into what I’m feeling right now. I’m feeling like a pathetic slut. Or that that’s how the world sees me. I feel these mental health services are so concerned about doing the right thing, and ‘boundaries’ and ‘procedures’ that they forget their service-users are actually individual human beings, with different needs, personalities and histories.

 

I was unable to say what the problem was, so I wrote it down. Now it’s on my record. I didn’t want it to be, but I lost control of that. That loss of control / power made me angry with myself first of all, for ever saying anything, and now I’m angry at them, for not respecting my wishes to not keep it. I feel violated. Now it’s there in black and white, how I feel and why. And I feel it’s probably led to misunderstandings of me as a person too, and that’s what I want to come on to….

 

I’m going to refer to a couple of people as A and B, as I can’t be bothered thinking up fake names…. I was meant to speak to A before the group yesterday about the issues I raised in what I wrote. When he came down B came with him and I was asked if it was okay that he joined us. I could of course have said no – but I never feel able to say no – it’s like when doctors or dentists say they have students in… I can never say how I really feel. And to be honest I read into this decision as being based on what I wrote, and that A needed a ‘chaperone’…. you know…. in case I were to pounce on him whilst alone – as huge sluts like me do, naturally…..

 

So anyway, I had to sit and talk to both of them about the issues, and I disclosed more information that explained why I was struggling with my self-harm issues at that time. It was the longest silence I’ve ever sat through, waiting for A to read it… knowing I was completely effing up my life. I was regretting it already, but I think a part of me at the time thought ‘what the hell, why not…won’t be around much longer anyway!’. Basically A was just finding out that I was attracted to one of them in the room, and the shame attached to that (which I will come on to in a bit) was making me hurt myself for being a bad person for having feelings again. B didn’t read it, so didn’t know what was being referred to when we discussed it afterwards. It was an awkward talk.

 

I’m apparently going to have help from someone else for a couple of sessions… but they said it might be a good idea if it’s a female…. yeah…. because I can’t be trusted around the male species can I?! Can’t leave me alone with one of them for five minutes or I might jump his bones or whatever the cool kids call it nowadays….. this is how these mental health services and the way they handle this sort of thing, make me feel….. they make me feel like some super slut who fancies anything in trousers. And that I’m a risk to them all and their jobs. I doubt it’s for my own safety, no matter what they say… they just don’t want a situation where they could get in some kind of trouble themselves. I know that. And that’s why I’m offended. Because they don’t know the first thing about me as a person. I’m not someone who acts. I admire people…. I may even admit to admiring them. That is the extent of it. I will never make a move on someone. I never have and I never will, because I used to be the person who admitted my feelings for guys, and they either rejected me, or they led me on, messed with my emotions for a while and then ghosted me. So I stopped making the first move. I stopped seeking a man. I stopped believing that anyone would want me. Because they never really did. If I’m ever to end up with a guy, he will have to be the one to admit his feelings to me first. I’m not going there again.

 

So while these people are so preoccupied with procedures and boundaries, I’m over here like ‘Hello? Never broken a rule in my life! Never made a move on a guy… never even had a guy…. pretty much a nun… quiet, reserved person here, hello?’ … I feel they’re assuming that I want every man. I don’t. At all. Admittedly A and B are lovely and attractive in many ways of their own. But there is only one I have feelings for. I don’t feel attracted to any of the others working in that building. I’m not a super slut. I don’t ‘fancy’ everyone. I’m very selective and always devote my attention and feelings to one person at a time. And even that one I like is under no threat from me. Even if no rules were in place, he was single, straight and interested in me too, I still wouldn’t make the move, because of my past experiences and because of the type of person I am, the morals I have and the respect I have for boundaries – both professional and personal.

 

So this concept that I must be kept away from the men… and not allowed to speak to them one-on-one…. it’s BS. I feel I’m going to be ‘watched’ from now on… it’s really bad for my paranoia and self-esteem. God help them when they offer me the self-esteem course…. not much point… I don’t think I’ll be too receptive given they’ve already trashed that.

 

I feel totally mischaracterised. I feel painted as some temptress… whose sole aim is to seduce these men, and that I must be stopped. The ‘wall of women’ must be brought out again…. ‘DEFEND THE MEN FROM THIS SEX-CRAZED HOPELESS ROMANTIC SLUT OF A WOMAN!!’… that’s how I feel. That they see me in that way…. I’m nothing of the sort. But they made me feel that way. I took it on as though it were a fact. That’s how I felt. That, and pitied. I felt pathetic last night.

 

I was inconsolable. It took scarring myself for life with the words they made me feel, to stop me crying…. to stop me wanting to die. Nothing was working. Earlier in the day I had called the Samaritans. I had taken my emergency medication. Nothing was working. I had to reach that point where the pain, the shame, the regret and everything that was tearing away at me, became anger…. anger at THEM. Anger for the way they made me feel about myself. That’s the only way I could sleep and make it to another day.

 

I don’t doubt that there are probably people out there who would make a move on a mental health professional, but I am not that person. I don’t want to be treated like I’m that person… just because others are like that. OR because they’ve had so little experience of people having feelings for them in their position – that’s just as bad really, because they then don’t know how to respond best, and I realise they don’t know what they’re doing, because it’s rare… and then I feel like a freak and a ‘problem person’.. which is the last thing I want to be.

 

I hate asking for help. I hate admitting I’m struggling. I hate asking for their time for anything. I had that conversation before the group, which overran… then I was allowed to take five minutes to gather myself before joining the group… in that time I took a couple of diazepam because I didn’t feel good at all. I wanted to harm myself. I would’ve done.

 

But I went in and I did my best at pretending everything was fine. I talked when prompted. I sounded normal. I nodded along to other people. And then as the end came along I had images of what I wanted to do. I felt zoned out by then…. I knew where I would end up if I walked out the door, and it would probably have led to me not sitting in that room again next week. I wanted a permanent solution to what I was feeling. I knew where to go to get that. The thought of the Samaritans crossed my mind, and I thought where I could go locally to phone them… even the thought of phoning them having left the building I felt unsafe. I felt I would still end up at the place I had in mind.  I knew I couldn’t leave the building. I wouldn’t make it home.

 

So I stayed behind at the end and told A and B that I didn’t feel safe. They asked what I meant. I told them I wanted to do something stupid. At least I think that’s what I said… it’s a bit hazy now. I asked if there was a room I could use in the building to sit and phone the Samaritans. They said yes. So I sat in a room downstairs – everyone worked upstairs so I didn’t have to worry too much about being overheard. A and B had to leave and go somewhere else, but they said a colleague would pop down and check on me in a bit. When this person did come down I was still talking on the phone, so they gestured to me then went back upstairs.

 

I spoke to a lovely woman. The Samaritans really are incredible people… they tend to know what to say / ask… and before you know it you’re spilling everything to them. I kept catching myself saying things, and thinking ‘You do realise you’re talking to another person right??’ … ‘You are speaking out loud….’ … it helped a little. I talked for almost an hour with this wonderful lady. I talked through what had upset me, and how I felt… some background stuff too… at that point I wasn’t aware of why I was so upset. I hadn’t pinpointed how the actions taken in response to what I said, had made me feel like a pathetic cheap slag basically… that came later that night. I cried a bit. I once again answered the suicide question honestly straight away… I never used to, but if someone asks me now if I have thoughts of ending my life, I straight away tell them yes. No more bullshitting people.

 

Once the call ended I wasn’t sure what to do… whether to just sign out and leave, or wait downstairs, or what.. so I ended up calling ‘hellooo’ up the stairs. Let them know I’d finished my call and then went. The Samaritans couldn’t stop me doing what I did later that day, but they stopped me making a permanent choice. They got me out of town and back home.

 

At home I pretended nothing was wrong. I think that made life more difficult… but I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. I only told them today that I made the phone call yesterday. I didn’t say why. I only did it so they know I’m a bit delicate at the moment.

 

I made some bad choices in terms of self-harm… things I regret now. But can’t do anything about it now. I wasn’t fully in my mind last night anyway. I was distraught and medicated, so didn’t make rational decisions. It was a breakdown. I do really stupid things when it’s that bad.

 

It really was a bad day. Even talking to the Samaritans I told them I hate using the phone, but I knew I had to anyway. And she said I must have felt really desperate to push through my fear of using the phone, in order to call them. It’s true. Yesterday was the worst day of my life since my friend Liv took her life eight months ago.

 

Now I have to pick myself up and carry on. From now on I’m not going to open up again. I won’t ever pour my heart out or share my feelings with anyone, for any reason. The exception being telling them how it makes me feel, what they’ve done. That’s only so they might learn from it. And as much as I could write that down so they can again put it in my record, I think I’ll brave the conversation if possible and then draw a line under it. After that they won’t even notice I exist. I’ll just become a nobody again, speak only when I’m spoken to, get through the courses I’m doing, be discharged and either never ask for help again, or likely experience this same problem again the next time I need help – because yet again it’s been dealt with wrong and scarred me… it’s a wound that’s not been healed and has been made worse, so very likely to have it happen again in the future. Nobody wants to help me with this shame / attraction issue. I’m not sure anyone really can…

 

The whole point of admitting how I felt, was because of the shame attached to it – that shame was making me self-harm every day. The response I’ve had has only confirmed it’s right that I’m ashamed. That it’s wrong to feel how I do. And they may well say that in the ‘real world’ it’s fine… it’s just in this setting… but what they don’t get is that I’m attracted to someone in this setting right now…. it’s a current problem…. and more importantly, what I experience in this setting translates to what I feel about the ‘real world’. If I have to be kept away from men in this setting, as I’m thought of as an intensely desperate, pathetic slut and temptress, then what bloody hope is there for me around any man, any place?? If that’s really how I’m viewed. It tells me I should stay away from men full stop. It tells me that it’s indeed wrong to be attracted to a man. Having BPD I already feel I’ll never fit in to this world…. this experience only makes me feel the same in terms of relationships… that I’m incapable of having a man in my life. They’re doing so much damage to someone who already doesn’t see a future for herself in this world.

 

I’ve called it ‘attachment’ because of the shame of saying I’m attracted to a man. This has probably led to some misunderstandings. Of course when the time comes I won’t see him again the ‘attachment’ element will kick in and I’ll be devastated. But it’s attraction right now. And I feel it’s wrong. They’ve confirmed it’s wrong by saying I should see a female, and if I speak to a man, he seems to need a chaperone. So not only was it wrong to have these feelings for him… it was also wrong to say it. So basically, in a nutshell, I’ve f*cked everything up, yet again, just because the shame of being attracted to someone makes me hurt myself. This is so messed up.

 

I’ve lost control by seeking to gain it. I’ve gained more shame by trying to ease it. I’ve given myself more reasons to self-harm by trying to stop it. I have to deal with one-sided feelings yet again, which I can do… I’m so used to it, but it’s the shame that was the problem. But I just have to accept that shame is part and parcel of feeling anything for a man from now on.  I will now bury my feelings. I won’t bother anyone any further with any of this. I let out too much. I can’t take it back. I will feel what I do for him, alone… I will keep the shame to myself and deal with it the only way I can. I just have to accept I’m a self-harmer and a loner, and always will be. I should never have reached out about this. I regret it, and it will never happen again. Even if it kills me. From now on I keep everything to myself. This has proven that I can’t trust anyone. They’re all as bad as each other. And I’m beyond help. My heart is closed from now on. No more outpouring of feelings, for any reason. I live my life on the inside from now on. There is no other way.

 

 

 

 

All I Wanted Was…

All I wanted was my best friend back.
That’s all I wanted.
To know she cared about me, worried about me, and appreciated me.
To have her reassurance…
To feel safe in our friendship….
To know she wasn’t going anywhere…
I needed that stability and safety…. my world had collapsed after my first loss.
I needed to know she wouldn’t abandon me when my mental health deteriorated.
I needed to know I could count on her.
I wanted her to love me at my worst, because that’s when I needed her most.

 
I wanted my best friend to research my illness.
I wanted her to try her best to understand BPD….
And the concepts of paranoia, splitting and trauma.
To do this much for me, as I would for her.
To learn how to better support me and preserve our friendship.
To not hold my illness against me.
To understand why I am the way I am.
And why I do the things I do.

 

I wanted to see my Godchildren – the reason for me living.
I wanted my friend to help me find that lost part of me again.
I had lost faith in myself and thought I wasn’t good enough for them.
I needed my friend to help me see this wasn’t true.

 

I wanted to be a part of their lives… to watch them grow up.
I felt so proud watching them learn new things.
It’s been 15 months… so much has changed. They will not remember me.
I wanted to continue being there for them for the rest of my life.
I pictured the future with them. Now that future is gone.
And I will never see them again.
It’s not like a divorce where both parents see the kids.
I have no rights.
No way of seeing them.
I’ve lost them forever.
I’m heartbroken.

 

I only wanted to matter to my best friend.
For her to want to talk to me, to see me, to fight for me.
For her to not turn her back when I needed her most.
For her to ease my fear that I was being replaced.
I wanted her to understand how worthless I felt…
That I didn’t feel I deserved her.
That I was scared of losing her.
I wanted her to ease my pain, not add to it.
All I wanted was for my best friend to not be like the rest of them.
To apologise and make amends.
To not blame it all on me.
To use the difficulties to make us stronger.
To prove to me that bumps in the road don’t mean the end.
To make me feel safe to be honest with her if I felt hurt.
To not just give up on me at the first hurdle.
To not ‘ghost’ me and walk away making me think she hates me.

 
All I wanted was my best friend to show me empathy and compassion.
Even if she couldn’t understand my illness.
I wanted her to tell me words I needed to hear –
“I care about you”
“You’re my best friend and always will be”
“I miss you”
“I love you”
“I’m so thankful to have you in my life”
“I’m not going to leave you”
Is it too much to ask for caring words whilst suffering?

 

All I wanted was my best friend to make effort for me.
To send me a note that she’s thinking of me.
To ask how I am.
To give me a photo of us, to remind me of our bond.
To send some flowers.
To invite me for a coffee.
Anything to let me know I existed and mattered to her.
To match my efforts.
All I wanted was for my best friend to notice how hard I was trying…
To cope with my illness. Alone.
To cope with my first major loss. Alone.
To sort things out with her, despite my illness, even though she had given up on me.
All I wanted was to feature on my best friend’s list of priorities.
I knew I was nowhere near the top anymore.
But I wanted to feel I mattered on some level.
I wanted to not feel like a burden to her.
I honestly believed I was.
I wanted her to treat me otherwise.

 

All I wanted was to put my mental health first.
For my friend to put my mental health first.
For my friend to agree it was important.
For her to understand why I had to make the decision to step back.
For her to realise if she couldn’t make a choice then I had to.
That it wasn’t fair to string me along.
That it didn’t mean we couldn’t talk.
That she overreacted by blocking me.
All I wanted was my friend not to hurt me.
Not to block me.
Not to remove herself from my group after finding out it would hurt me.
Not to reconnect with the one person who came between our friendship before.
To stop doing these things she knows would hurt me.
To stop doing these things TO hurt me.
To want to ease my pain, not cause it.

 

All I wanted was my friend to put thought into how to make it up to me.
How to resolve things with me.
To focus on that, and not do anything further to jeopardise it.

 
I just wanted to be fought for.
To matter enough to my best friend to not let me go without a fight.
To matter enough to just one person, to not simply give up on me.
As though I’m worthless.
Nothing.

 

I wanted to be able to live life.
I wanted my friend to wish the best for me in life.
I wanted my best friend to care whether I live or die.
For her to stop doing things that push me closer to the edge.
I felt she actually wanted me to kill myself.
I wanted this to not be true.
I wanted her to do anything to have me as her friend.
I wanted to believe I meant as much to her as she did to me.

 

Most of all I want this all to be a nightmare.
To wake up and have my best friend back.
And for none of this to have happened.
I want to be okay again.
I want to not be alone.
I want trust.
And hope.
I want peace.
And I want the pain to stop.

 

 

 

When All Is Said & Done…

When All Is Said & Done...

*Personal post, but the message behind it will be used in an upcoming post about those of us with a mental illness & the expectations we should have of our friends, and that they should have of us*

Dear ______ ,

 

Okay, I’ve reflected some more and I’ve read back the blog I removed. I understand entirely how it would’ve come across to you. I understand and accept it hurt you. It’s not ideal how I communicated my distress. Although I removed it and apologised, I cannot take it back. I appreciate that. And I guess I can see why you blame me and can’t let go of it. I would find that hard too. I spent a lot of yesterday mentally beating myself up… thinking I deserved to be abandoned by you. Thinking it was all my fault. Thinking what a terrible person I am. I know how awful it was to post my feelings ‘publicly’ like that, and I regret it.

 

That being said, I have to draw a line at that and say I’m not taking all the blame here. Whilst what I did upset you, it was as a result of things you had done that upset me… we had problems long before that. I’m not saying you deserved it. What I’m saying is that I was not of sound mind…I was isolated… having a breakdown, was suicidal almost every day. I felt neglected, rejected and a burden to you, because of the way you spoke to me and weren’t talking to me. I had paranoia, which you didn’t understand and took personally. I felt you started doing something more once you knew it hurt me. I was calling out for friendship and support, and received none. I thought you didn’t care if I lived or died. And having rejected me and having made me feel like a burden, you were then sitting back and waiting for me to get in touch with you again – that was never going to happen… it was impossible for me to do that. The ball was in your court. I needed you to make the effort. But you never would have. Had I not blogged, you would never have spoken to me again. I couldn’t speak to you. So while it was not ideal that I blogged about it, I honestly didn’t know what else to do at that point. I did what I thought was best. Even if looking back I can see it wasn’t best, in that moment it was the only thing I could think to do, to break the deadlock and try to maintain our friendship.

 

I know that backfired, but I didn’t think it would in that moment. I did it with the best intentions in the world. I did it because I didn’t want to lose you  (fear of abandonment with BPD makes you do desperate things to avoid being abandoned… some that don’t make sense), but I needed you to understand that I couldn’t get in touch with you. I admit that my words didn’t come out in the best way. And for that I am sorry. But what I need you to understand is that I was in a very desperate, dark, lonely and painful place – I was being abandoned by my one last friend… I felt I was losing everything … after all my grief and mental illness over the previous year, I was now losing my best friend. It was gut-wrenching. I was hurt. I was scared. I was paranoid and splitting – I know you don’t understand how that feels or what it means.

 

I wish you could have read that blog and rather than seeing it as an attack on you, I wish you could’ve seen the pain in my words… the loneliness and desperation. That is all I’ve ever wanted from you… for you to put yourself in my shoes and understand why I feel how I do and why I do the things I do… to know there’s no malice there whatsoever. That I’m reaching out in that way because I care, because I love you and I’m scared of losing you. But you don’t see things in that way. You don’t appreciate my emotions. You choose to see the worst in me. That’s how it feels.

 

I’ve said before, my mental illness is not an excuse …  if I hurt someone then I have to be accountable for it… and I am … I do feel remorse and I do apologise. I know that my intentions were not cruel in the slightest. I know the purpose of what I wrote. And I do know that a lot of what I said was twisted by you too. But all that being said, I accept I caused you pain and I never meant for that to happen. I’m sorry. While my mental illness is not an excuse, I hope it is an explanation. That’s all I want – I don’t want to escape responsibility when I do something wrong… but I want you to understand why I do the things I do…. I need you to know that I’m likely to make mistakes when I’m in a high state of despair and desperation. And I need you to not abandon me because of it. I need you to cut me some slack when I mess up. I need your forgiveness.

 

My paranoia had me thinking that you meant me harm. That you were trying to hurt me. That you hated me. That you were playing mind-games with me… like others have in the past. Whilst it’s not your fault that I had paranoia, you were capable of helping to ease it, by reassuring me and calming my fears. But you didn’t do this. You took offence at everything and got funny with me…. this made my paranoia worse. You did feed my paranoid thoughts. I’m not blaming you. But equally I don’t want you blaming me for having paranoia… I didn’t choose it. It’s hell to go through. My paranoia played a big part in what I blogged. I can see it in the words I chose…. that I honestly thought you were a threat to me. If you cannot understand paranoia then you will never be forgiving of what I wrote. You’ll never appreciate that what I was experiencing was not reality… but that I DIDN’T KNOW THAT. I needed you to be forgiving and understanding. And while you may not have wanted me to do it again, you needed to work with me on how we could avoid the same situation arising in the first place… I needed you to understand the part you yourself played, and to learn how to help me earlier… how to communicate better and be pro-active.

 

I needed you to learn about my illness… to show an interest in finding out how best to protect our friendship. To not blame me for being mentally ill. I was experiencing new and terrifying aspects of my illness last year… I also needed stability, consistency, and certainty, and you weren’t offering me any of those. I felt out of control, and completely alone.

 

no act (1)

 

 

While what I wrote was something I wish I hadn’t, please try and understand that it came from a place the furthest from nasty. It was a moment of desperation, using the only skills I had available to me in that moment to deal with overwhelming pain and fear. I’m not making excuses. I’m not making things up to escape accountability. I’m just saying this was my reality. I do regret it, but I didn’t feel in control of it at the time… it was not done with any true ill-feeling to you. It was done with hurt in my heart at what my sick, paranoid mind was telling me about you. It was done to try and rescue our friendship from eternal silence. I wish I’d left it there now, as the hell it unleashed has done more damage to my life than anything else I’ve ever experienced. But please try and see it from the perspective of someone afraid to lose you, and who thought we would never speak again, and realise that I would’ve been right. You were waiting for me to speak to you. You have to accept that was never going to happen. And you need to accept that’s because of the things you said to me in the previous message. You had made it so I could not approach you again, and then you were sitting back, expecting me to do just that. It was an impossible situation, and I was trying to rectify it. It just went horrifically wrong. Please have some sympathy for that, if nothing else.

 

I tried to make it up to you afterwards. I admit, I didn’t feel it was my fault. The message I got in response to my blog was hurtful, because I knew what my intentions had been, even if they didn’t shine through in my words. I’d wanted to open the lines of communication, but I had no idea they would open so harshly. I felt attacked and misunderstood. I never wanted to talk to you again. But I took time to consider things from your perspective. I understood that your words came from a place of pain, and whatever you had going on in your own life at that time…. this was all I wanted from YOU. For you to understand where my words came from. I wrote to you, to explain, to apologise, to fight for our friendship. I extended the olive branch at Christmas. I sent cards and presents, knowing full-well you probably wouldn’t do the same for me, if you believed such awful things about me. But I still made the effort (which was the level of effort I had needed from you all year but didn’t get…). The whole point was nobody would make any effort for me. All my life I’ve been the one making the effort, chasing after people, begging for care, love and friendship. You don’t know what that’s like. I needed people, particularly my friends, to give it freely… especially at a time when I needed them, like I did last year.

 

So I sent to you… and all over Christmas I was met with silence. Not a card. Not a text. Nothing. It was only a month later when I chased you up yet again, that I learnt you had not opened the presents. You hadn’t given the kids their presents. This deeply upset me. I hadn’t held our disagreement against the kids, but it seemed like you had… I’d gone to a lot of effort choosing things, making things – I don’t know if you’ve opened them now and can see that, or if you’ve done what it feels like you did anyway, and smashed the lot and burnt it… that’s what I’d do if you sent it back to me. It feels like you’ve already done that by rejecting it anyway.

 

I had tried to resolve things. I’d fought for you where you wouldn’t fight for me. I had understood the pain in your words where you refused to do that for me. I had explained my mental illness and yet you still seemed to be holding it against me.

 

10 Adoption Party Ideas

 

 

When it came to it you couldn’t decide what was best. You had said to me in your message that ‘nothing will ever be the same now’. You had talked to _____ about that and said you weren’t sure if things could ever be the same between us now…. you weren’t sure what you wanted. I accept that things wouldn’t have been the same… ever since you said they wouldn’t be, you made sure they never would be. But just because it wouldn’t be the same, it doesn’t mean a friendship couldn’t exist. You don’t just give up at the first hurdle. Look at your relationship – did you give up on it at the first argument? No. You fought for it…. because it mattered to you…. he mattered to you. Every relationship – romantic or platonic, has bumps and arguments…. you use them to make you stronger. You don’t just give up on the person. If YOU do, then it really is best you’re not in my life. I need to know people aren’t going to just up and leave when things get tough. I need that stability in my life, that I know people won’t leave me if we have a disagreement. I aired my feelings to Hannah about how something she did hurt me…. she handled it so poorly that I became afraid to address issues with friends again, in case they left me. And you’ve done just the same.

 

Do you honestly think that if I make one mistake that’s the end of the friendship? Do you know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel I don’t deserve friends. Please look at how you treated me last year, and this year actually – and realise that I still wouldn’t have given up on you. I was still there fighting for our friendship, knowing it wouldn’t be the same as before, but that you don’t just give up on someone. I may be the ‘mentally ill’ one, but I think my values are sound, and I understand the concept of ‘friendship’ better than many who don’t even have a mental illness!

 

Yes at this moment I feel far too hurt and angry with you, and in a sense I have given up on you. You have no idea what it took to get to this point though. I never gave up on you… until you blocked me. Twice. And then you removed yourself from my poetry group, just after finding out that it would hurt me if you did. I see that as malicious. There’s no good explanation for that. That was the final nail in the coffin. That’s when I feel I saw your true colours. And it was very upsetting to realise them. You probably thought I wouldn’t notice…. or maybe you hoped I would …

 

Even when I said I was taking a step back, and unfriending you, I didn’t give up on you or our friendship – I stated that. I said I was doing it for my mental health and a future friendship… I said when you were ready you could get in touch and we’d go for a coffee. But you cut off that option by blocking me. And then you claimed to have done it so I couldn’t see anything that would make me angry at you or resentful. That isn’t the truth is it? Because me unfriending you would’ve done just that. That was the point. You have a private account, as I do. There was no need to block me. The real reason you did it was to get back at me… to feel like you were the one in control. To have the power. You did it to punish me, and so that I couldn’t talk to you again. It was unnecessary, as I wasn’t going to talk to you again. I had put the ball firmly in your court for that. It was your move. You made the wrong one in blocking me. Then you doubled down on it, doing it on the old account, and removing yourself from my group. That felt spiteful. That felt like you had removed yourself from my group to get back at me for talking to _____ … like it was your only way to lash out at me.

 

At this point I don’t want you as a friend – not the way you’ve been behaving. As much as I miss our friendship, I now don’t know who you are because of what you’ve done this year. That being said, if you were to get in touch with me and apologise, and work your arse off to make it up to me for how you’ve behaved, then yes, I would consider our friendship again. I’ve only given up on it now because it seems pretty dead to me, from your behaviour. And because you’ve hurt me so much and seem to have no remorse about it. If that were to change then fine. But I don’t see it happening.

 

I understand you’re holding that blog against me. I can understand why… but at the same time I’m desperately sad that you couldn’t see the emotions and illness in the words I said. That you can’t forgive me and move past it like I tried to do with what you did to me.  You have no idea how many times I’ve had to forgive you for things in the past. I doubt you think you ever did anything wrong towards me. But I’ve always let things go for the sake of our friendship. That’s why it hurts that you gave up on me at what you see as the first hurdle. Because it’s not the first hurdle and I didn’t give up on you.

 

I will always beat myself up for that blog, thinking is that the reason I lost your friendship…. I will always think that’s why you abandoned me. It may be true. But it’s not the real reason I lost your friendship. I lost your friendship because you didn’t have compassion for the state of my mental illness. Because you weren’t there for me. Because you didn’t communicate. Because you gave up when things got hard. Because your heart just wasn’t in it. If you had truly cared about me, then no amount of difficulty would’ve stopped you fighting for us. If you were that heartbroken about losing me then you would’ve accepted my efforts to mend our friendship. You would’ve put in any amount of effort for me. The reason I don’t think you did, is because you blamed me. You were angry with me for the blog so you didn’t want to be the one to make effort for me. You didn’t think I deserved it after what I did. You thought I was nasty and intentionally hurt you. You thought I was the one who owed apologies and effort. And like a chump I did that for you, and it was all rejected. When the whole problem in the first place was your lack of effort for me. That was all I needed from you… effort. And I ended up being the one to show it, for you.

 

So I know that our friendship died through lack of effort on your part when I needed it most – when I was newly grieving after my medication wore off, and I was having a breakdown. You know, when someone has a breakdown they don’t always know what they’re doing… they don’t always make the best choices or feel in control of themselves. You need to be more forgiving of people with severe mental illnesses… we’re doing the best we can. And I tried to fix things afterwards. But no more.

 

At one point I said I didn’t blame you, and I didn’t blame myself – I blamed my mental illness. Well now I don’t. I can’t blame my illness – it’s beyond my control. I don’t blame myself. I do wish I hadn’t written that blog, but things were bad before that… so it’s not the cause of the demise of our friendship. That would be you. I was mentally ill. I couldn’t help that. You could’ve helped how you responded to that illness. One day I hope you’ll look back on the things you said and did, and realise that given the state of mind I was in, they were unhelpful and only worsened things in my mind and in our friendship. You’re not ready to see that yet. You said you didn’t blame yourself for where we were…. oh to have a clear conscience. I envy you. You continue to blame me if it makes you feel better. But blaming someone for being mentally ill is about as low as you can go. And that’s what you’re doing by holding this against me. I never took a break from our friendship. Never. I left you in peace because you had too much to think about to deal with me. I will not take on blame for being rejected by you. This was all your fault and your choices. You knew how I felt, and you chose to avoid me. You chose to tell me your priorities. You chose to not talk about things early on. You chose to react to my blog like you did. You chose to snub me at Christmas. You chose to not give the kids their Christmas presents. You chose to give up on me. You chose to block me, twice. You chose to leave my group. Your choices brought about the death of this friendship. Not me. Not my illness. Your choices. That’s why I’m hurt, and that’s why only you could ever revive this friendship, and I deserve no blame for it. I did all I could to make up for the one mistake I made while I was having a breakdown. I pushed myself through paranoia, isolation and splitting to try and sort things out with you. I chased after you on more than one occasion. And this is what you left me with. Silence. Friends don’t do that. You gave up on us. This is all on you.

 

I’m not going to spend the rest of my life blaming myself for losing you. I made a mistake during the depths of my illness. Any good friend would understand my illness and forgive me, knowing it’s not who I am. They’d understand when I push them away I need them to pull me closer… it’s then that I need love the most. Any ‘friend’ who gives up on me because of one mistake made out of desperation, paranoia and despair, a mistake I tried to make up for, was never truly my friend to begin with.

 

I always regret the bad choices I make during my BPD ‘episodes’ and my breakdowns….. self-harming at therapy…. begging and pleading with guys to help me after their behaviour made me feel unsafe…. ruining people’s days because I storm off…. degrading myself so as not to lose people I care about…. there are many things I’ve done that I wish I hadn’t. And they often replay in my head during my worst times… convincing me I don’t deserve to live as I’m that awful and pathetic… but I have to accept they are as a result of my illness. I am in extreme distress when these things happen and I need to learn not to kill myself over them. Everyone makes mistakes. My worst ones happen when I’m at my worst with my mental health. And they almost ALWAYS come from a place of love, fear or rejection. They do not come from a bad place. I know I’m not a bad person. I need friends who know that too, and remind me of the good in me. I’m sorry you weren’t that friend. Just be thankful you will never know the level of distress that drives me to do the things you think are unforgiveable. You’re lucky.

 

10 Adoption Party Ideas (1)

 

 

Now I have to face the consequences on my own. You’ve left me with nothing. It’s going to be hard to believe in myself again… or in friendship. I don’t think I ever want a friend again. I have to try and rebuild my life alone now. With no hope, no trust… nothing.

 

I may have hurt you with my blog…
But nothing hurts more than a friend who can’t see a mistake born of mental illness as just that, and holds your illness against you… using it as justification to abandon you. Nothing. This illness wasn’t my choice. I sometimes feel I’d rather die than live with this. I didn’t choose it. You chose to do the things you did, with the exception of your response to my blog – that I can understand from a place of pain. Everything else was deliberate. Your choice. Your fault. I will not be blamed for this. You destroyed me. You broke me at a time I needed my friends to help mend me. I was already broken… that was the problem… and instead of fixing me you tore me to shreds and scattered me into the wind. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this. You gave me abandonment when all I needed was love. That’s harder to forgive than any words I could’ve said in a blog. You broke my heart.

 

We will never agree on what happened here, or who was at fault. The only difference I can see is that I was prepared to own up to my mistakes and fight for our friendship, whilst your choice was to blame me and give up.

 

If I’m wrong about you and all of this then I apologise. But I was paranoid. I was splitting. Your actions have only backed up everything I believed. You can’t blame me for my interpretation of events, when you wouldn’t communicate properly with me. If you really didn’t blame me… if you really didn’t want to lose me…. if you cared about me… if you felt guilty about your actions…. if you didn’t hate me… then you should’ve communicated that to me. By not doing so, and by ‘ghosting’ me, you communicated the opposite and affirmed my suspicions about you. I may be ill, but this is a hole you yourself have dug. Only you can get yourself out of it.

 

I will always be sorry for hurting you. That won’t change. But this is about so much more than that. You abandoned me at my lowest point. You killed our friendship. I’m very sad and hurt about that. And whilst I’m sorry for my part, I’m not the one who owes apologies or effort anymore. It’s the very least I deserve from you. I know I will never get it… but until then, you deserve my silence.

 

I wish I had mattered enough to you, to fight for us. Now I have to fight for myself and regain a shred of self-worth. I lost that and so much more when I lost you. Except I didn’t lose you…. you lost me. I hope you realise that in time.

 

 

 

 

Rant: Near Breaking Point.

I’m so sick of living in a world where people don’t self-reflect! Where they don’t apologise. Where they don’t take responsibility. Where they project onto innocent people or blame them for being upset. I’m sick of selfish people making me out to be selfish. Shitty friends making me out to be the shitty friend. People judging a life and illness they have no clue about. People not realising their words and actions have consequences, and taking offence when those consequences come to be seen, thinking they’re the victims. I’m sick of being hurt by people yet me being the one who has to apologise. I’m sick of people saying the wrong thing the whole bleeding time. I’m sick of being invalidated, dismissed and misunderstood, or being made to feel like a failure. I’m just sick of it all. I’m sick of everything and everyone – is it any wonder I don’t want to participate in life when surrounded by people like that??

 

I feel close to breaking point today. After a couple of days with no bandage on I feel close to having to put one back on. I cannot cope with my thoughts. I cannot cope with people being offensive and then not understanding when people are hurt as a result. They’re everywhere. There’s no decency left in people. And no matter how much work I might do on myself, if others won’t look at their own behaviour they will continue to hurt me and be a barrier to my recovery. I’m sick of being the one requesting therapy, when I need it as a result of people who should be having therapy themselves. Sick of it. Sick of putting in efforts where others refuse to. So angry about this.

 

I’m feeling really low today. Partly after writing a blog last night which delved into some stuff… partly because of things various people keep saying that throw my head into turmoil and hopelessness…. partly because I feel so alone and misunderstood. And then there’s paranoid thoughts. Reminders of these people I described above. Snowballing thoughts. Until I’m left with the massive, confusing ball of emotions that usually ends up with a bandage of some sort somewhere on my body. Will try and not let that happen. But I’m really struggling today. Sometimes I think it’s better I just keep to myself. Yes it would be lonely. But life is so painful when other people are thrown into the mix. I just can’t take any of it at the moment.

Mental Illness Is A Thief.

I once wrote a list of positives about myself…. I have that list in front of me… I don’t remember when I wrote it, but I can only assume I was in a better state of mind, as I’d find it hard to say many good things about myself at the moment.

Here’s what I wrote:

 

  • I am sensitive to the feelings of others.
  • I have a good heart.
  • I am approachable.
  • I am honest and trustworthy.
  • I am protective of those I care about.
  • I am creative.
  • I have a good sense of humour.
  • I am respectful to people and animals and the world alike.
  • I have good morals.
  • I don’t let people down.
  • I say what I mean and I mean what I say.
  • Even if I sometimes doubt it, I am mentally strong – I’m still standing.
  • I like my own company.
  • I don’t need anyone else to complete me.
  • I enjoy the freedom of being alone.
  • I am a reserved person. I save my best for those who earn it.
  • I take the time to care about others.
  • I am polite.
  • I am capable of learning.
  • I am thoughtful.
  • I am not too proud to apologise or ask for help.
  • I am understanding.
  • I am down-to-earth.
  • I have good taste in music.
  • I may not have much but I have a lot to offer.

 

 

 

Mental illness robs you of many of those things. It also robs you of the ability to see any good in you, even when it is still there. That’s when you need your friends to remind you of who you are. I had a friend say to me just yesterday some of the good things about me. I may not believe them all, but hearing it does help… if for no other reason than to know they don’t all hate me!

 

When I look at the list, there are some things I feel remain – good taste in music, creative, sense of humour – these tend to be a constant. Other things are subject to change… for instance I do let people down… I’m not that approachable anymore… I don’t always take the time to care about others… I’m not always understanding, though I try my best to understand the motives and feelings of others.

 

The reality is that when you’re ill certain parts of you close off. You can’t be the person you’ve always been, because you’re fighting a battle nobody else knows about. The worst thing that can happen is for someone to judge you on who you are as a result of mental ill health. It makes you think that’s who you are as a person.

 

I received a message from a friend the other day which threw into turmoil my image of myself. Those of us with BPD struggle with a sense of who we are at the best of times…. It made me feel like I’m a terrible person. It created chaos in me, because everything said to me was a misinterpretation and misunderstanding of me, my words and behaviour. So whilst I was showing certain positive qualities (in my mind at least!), they twisted it into me showing all the worst qualities they could think of. And the trouble with someone like me, is that others’ opinions of me become MY opinion of me. I think if one person thinks something, others must too, and therefore it must be true.

 

They may not have said the words, but the words they did say painted a picture of me as a selfish, controlling bitch. Instead of seeing me as someone in huge emotional pain, traumatised, mentally ill and doing the best I could to survive… alone, they warped the truth and made me the ‘bad guy’.

 

Part of me was furious with them and thought what a horrible person they are and how much I hate them. But the rest of me took it as a reflection of ME. If I’m not all the bad things my friend thinks I am, then I must at least come across that way, either because of my illness or because I don’t communicate my reality correctly.

 

They were upset with me for blogging about them, as they interpreted it in a negative way, not as intended. And they asked if I could understand how that would feel…. yes, I do understand. And my initial reaction was that I should blog about what an awful person I am. Even though my blog was not about attacking them, and was actually about explaining that my own mind (my illness) is the problem – therefore I was effectively taking the blame (even though mental illness is not my fault!) …. they interpreted it as me blaming them and painting them in a bad light. So to ‘even it up’, in their mind at least, I felt I should tell you all how damn awful I am…. even though I already know that, and I’m constantly putting myself down for having an illness! Here you go:

 

  • I am a bad friend.
  • I don’t deserve friendship, happiness or love.
  • I’m too honest.
  • I’m selfish.
  • I’m messed up.
  • I’m manipulative.
  • I’m attention-seeking.
  • I’m a bitch.
  • I’m too demanding.
  • I’m a Debbie Downer.
  • I’m boring.
  • I’m lazy.
  • I’m a failure.
  • I’m a bitter, angry, resentful person.
  • I’m unforgiving.
  • I’m immature.
  • I’m clueless about real life and real problems.
  • I’m nasty.
  • I deserve pain.
  • I don’t deserve to live.
  • I’m hateful.
  • I’m a drama-queen.
  • I’m fat and ugly.
  • I’m stupid.
  • I’m an embarrassment to know.
  • I’m a terrible person.

 

This is the list I feel my friend would want me to remind myself of. At a time when I need reminding of my good qualities, they only want to make me think bad things about myself. Even if it’s unintentional, the way they talk to me illustrates their opinions of me.

 

But I look at this list, and as much as it came to me a lot quicker and easier than a positive one ever could, deep down I know it’s not the truth. Some of it is. I am fat and ugly, I am too honest and at present I am rather hate-filled. But most other things are as a result of my illness. Some of them aren’t even true then – it would just be an opinion of someone uneducated. I appear selfish, manipulative, attention-seeking, lazy, a bitch and a drama-queen, because I have a mental illness that has taken over and is close to winning. But I am none of those things. I do know that.

 

Whilst I feel like a terrible person and at present I question my original list about the ‘having a good heart’, I know what my intentions are. A lot of people may think bad things about me and my motives. Just as my friend interpreted my blog as me attacking them, rather than explaining my illness to them, other people probably think I’m a certain type of person. If my friend thinks I’m selfish, heartless and controlling then I’d like to say this…..

 

You’re wrong. I have a heart and you bloody broke it. While I might not appear to care about others, I care about them sometimes more than I care about myself. I have a lot of compassion and empathy. It may not seem it, but I AM capable of putting myself in others’ shoes… something they seem unable to do with me. I try my best to understand others whilst they don’t even try to understand me and my illness. I am aware of people having their own lives and stresses – I’m not selfish… but being in distress can make me seem that way, like I’m ignorant to the existence of others’ lives. I worry about them and show concern for them, whilst they just attack me and make me feel like a burden. I take my time to consider my responses to people…. I don’t want to hurt people. People don’t seem to do the same for me. They all just react. I’m actually a very reasonable person, where others without my illness seem to be the unreasonable ones. I will apologise when I hurt people – none of them do it for me. Even if they’re the ones who owe me an apology, they just double down on the hurt or give a false apology, whereas I feel genuine guilt, shame and remorse and am genuinely sorry (and I’m the one with BPD!). I am thoughtful, considerate and to some degree kind. Even if people hurt me, I’ll still send cards, I’ll still send thoughts on anniversaries, I’ll still try my best not to let their bitterness towards me change who I am at my core. I still try my best to be gentle even when hurt. It’s difficult though.

 

So whilst people are out there thinking bad things about me, I am here, hurt by their low opinions of me…. their misunderstandings of me and who I really am. The only reason I appear to show more of the qualities from the second list than the first, is because I am unwell. I’ve always been unwell – I just used to be able to hide it better. I’d wear a mask for everyone, even my best friend. After my granddad died last year my mental health deteriorated, and after a breakdown at therapy a year ago I’ve lost control. With being abandoned and isolating myself this year it’s just got worse and worse, until I can no longer hide how I’m feeling. I can’t wear the mask. I suppose if you were a fan of using the words ‘high-functioning’ and ‘low-functioning’, I’ve always been high-functioning…. now not so much. Now I’m a lot lower-functioning and my illness is plain to see…. except to those who refuse to see it as an illness. They will just think I’ve become a bitch. Thank God for those who see it for what it is and still believe in me. Thank you to those people. ❤

 

I am many of those things on that first list… inside. I wish I could show them on the outside again, because where I don’t, people think I’ve changed – I haven’t. I just can’t express the good as loudly as the bad is screaming from me. It then makes people treat me differently, which makes my illness worse and makes me feel worse about myself.

 

It is SO important if you know someone with a mental illness, to never treat them differently because of their illness, or to blame them for how they are. How they appear to you may not be how they feel inside. You need to remind them of the good in them, because mental illness is a thief, and an illusionist… it plays tricks on the mind, whilst stealing the good. It’s not the fault of the person with the illness. We never asked to be ill, and we likely hate ourselves enough, without feeling you hate us too.

 

I may not like who I am right now. I may not be able to confidently state to the world who I am and make a list…. but I DO know who I am at my core. And when people try and misrepresent me it frustrates and upsets me. But they’re not my concern. Let them think what they like. I’ve lost people in the past because they chose to stick by their false opinions of me, rather than admitting they were wrong, or trying to understand my illness. I don’t say this in a big-headed way, as I don’t actually think much of myself currently, but… ‘It’s their loss’. If people want to lose me because of their inability to listen and understand my illness, and because of the qualities they lack, then so be it. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to them. They should know who I am.

 

I struggle enough to hold on to who I am. I don’t need people gaslighting me.

 

One day I hope to rediscover the good qualities in me… those I listed, and hopefully more. But right now I just have to exist with my reality and try not to hate myself any more than I already do. I know some very nice and wise people would say to cut myself some slack… to not be so hard on myself. They’re right. It’s not easy but I have to try and block out other people’s opinions of me and forgive myself for being too ill to be the true me. Hopefully it’ll return in time.

 

xxxx

Believe It Or Not…

*Language & self-harm*

 

 

Believe it or not those with a mental illness can have fun, enjoy things in life, smile and laugh… whilst still having the illness and suffering with it daily. 

 

Something which was said to me recently was when I told people at work that I was going to a gig next year – I managed to get front row seats to see my favourite band on their comeback tour…. and I had someone say to me ‘What gets me is you can do that yet….’, as if to say if I can go to a gig why am I struggling with other things? My answer to that was simple – I won’t eat all day! My anxiety will be that high that I feel sick and can’t eat until I get home after midnight. This is usual for me. I can go to a concert, a show or other big event and though you may not see it, I struggle. I am anxious. But for instance this gig next year is to see a band I supported for half of my life – I love them and I have to be there – therefore, as a one-off occasion I will suffer the emotions that come with it.

 

I went to a gig last year, to see one of the members on a solo tour….. I was anxious and upset the whole time because of something that happened. I kept a face on generally and when I got home, I burst into tears and roared the house down. It was a bad experience for me. Just because you see me out doing these things, apparently ‘confident’ or having fun it doesn’t mean you know what’s going on for me. My mental health was awful at that time – I’d recently had my breakdown at therapy. I still went. I think the only thing I’ve done since is go to a comedy show – that was good. It’s nice to be able to go out and laugh and feel part of something.

 

There almost seems to be this rule that if you’re mentally ill you have to look miserable and a nervous wreck all the time. And you have to stay home, unable to leave the house. I’ll have you know that’s what I’ve done most of this year. My illness does make it hard to leave the house. It makes it hard to leave my room or put clothes on, or anything! So any times I go out should be celebrated. I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for going out and having much-needed fun. These sorts of events are needed for me at the moment, to give me things to look forward to and to stick around for, because most of the time I don’t want to live anymore. In some ways even seeing this band next year is not enough incentive to stay alive. But at least it’s something. I have a number of things I’ve got booked in for next year. And yes, some of them I am going to alone. Don’t think this is easy for me to do. It’s not. I’m dreading it. I’m trying not to think of it actually. But I will get through it as I have before. The reason I’m going alone is because I have been socially isolated this year… completely. So I had to make a choice… if I want to go to these things I have to go alone. It’s as simple as that. I made the decision and regretted it immediately afterwards. But I don’t have to think about those things right now.

 

On the days I can put on my mask you will see me in a work setting, joining in with the banter, laughing, chatting to customers…. it’s an act… to fit into society. I can’t show my reality for fear society will reject me. That is why I am not able to be in that work setting at the moment, because I’m unable to wear that mask. Who knows where I’ll be next year. I hope to feel better by then. I don’t see it happening.

 

I have a comedy show next week. I’m going with one of my parents, as I have done most things with them this year – they’re pretty much all I have, and are my rocks. I’m hoping laughing will do me some good. But I know it won’t solve the issues I have to deal with. Does this mean I shouldn’t get to go to something in the hope of a little relief from the suffering I endure every day of my life? After the gig I went to last year and other experiences, I’m concerned something will go wrong and ruin the experience. But I just have to go with the flow.

 

All throughout my illness people may have seen me laughing, chatting, messing around. Some of it an act… some of it me actually letting go and forgetting my illness for a while – which is nice! Does that mean I’m not ill and don’t have difficulties? No. Everyone is allowed to have fun and be happy and still have a serious illness. We shouldn’t live in fear that if we act normal or express contentment or enjoyment for a moment, that people will question the validity of our claims of illness…. but this is how I feel a lot of the time.  And this thinking keeps you stuck, not getting better because you never allow yourself to feel good. The worry is that people will see you laughing and think you’re not struggling anymore, leaving you misunderstood. But at the same time that is the mask people wear in order to be accepted… which means we feel ‘accepted’ but never understood … this is a big problem for me… although lately I feel neither understood nor accepted!

 

Believe it or not, people with a mental illness can also have strong opinions… and stand up for themselves…. and still have that illness. Just this morning I expressed my view online, and a troll decided to tell me ‘nobody cares!’ – I bit right back, saying that’s how I felt about their opinion, told them to have a nice day and muted them…. an outsider might think ‘Wow, strong…. she doesn’t care and won’t put up with any shit…. surely she can’t have anxiety or BPD like she claims’….. forget the fact that straight after that I harmed myself in one of the worst ways I ever have. Forget that it’s made me reluctant to say anything else. Forget that I had instant palpitations caused by this sod. Forget that it completely triggered me, because all this year my feeling has been that ‘nobody cares’ about me whatsoever…. friends, mental health services…. bloody government!! I’ve written about this several times this year.

 

But my response will usually imply I’m stronger than I am, because I was bullied all my life and I don’t believe in remaining silent, being made to feel like shit. I also don’t believe in worsening a situation to the point that I want to die instead of just cut. I believe in a curt response, putting the person in their place and then blocking them and moving on. I would have been able to do this had the troll not found my Achilles’ heel – feeling like nobody cares what I think or feel and I should be ignored. These nasty shitholes do a lot of damage to me, but fuck it, I’m allowed opinions. And I’m allowed to defend myself against bullies. This does not mean I’m not ill.

 

So often I have to weigh up my mental health and my RIGHT to say what I feel about things. It’s not right that it should be this way. I should be allowed to express myself without idiots jumping on my posts and attacking me, therefore worsening my mental health. Nobody NEEDS to respond to people they disagree with. I didn’t even say anything controversial. I was just telling my MP I won’t be voting for her again. What fucking business is it of that moron to tell me nobody cares?? You disagree, fine. Write your own post of support for the MP. This is the trouble I have with those with opposing political views to mine – they all think they’re entitled to explanations from us, and they can’t control their impulse to argue with everything and everyone they disagree with. Whereas we tend to let people have their views. I’ve never jumped on someone for their views. I had this with a friend a year or two ago (I say friend, I mean acquaintance) – she would always pounce on my posts, trying to appear ‘right’… but I never did the same to her. I let her have her views on her profile unchallenged, because I believe in freedom of speech but more importantly I believe in decency and manners. If I disagreed with something she said I would make my own post about the matter, separately, rather than trying to put her views down. But she didn’t do the same. So many on her side seem like that. Why can’t people just state their opinions independently without feeling the need to put others down?

 

Believe it or not those with a mental illness can be quite knowledgeable about their illness and still be ill. We can know what our issues are (which seems quite useful as professionals don’t seem to know how to help us anymore and ask us what help we want!!). We might know we’re experiencing paranoia, therefore knowing that the thoughts aren’t based on reality, but that doesn’t mean we can turn it off. I’ve experienced intense paranoia this year… I’m aware that it could be paranoia… I stated it and I wasn’t proved wrong, so actually in my mind it wasn’t paranoia now… but others would view it as untrue therefore paranoia. All I knew was they were obsessive thoughts that I couldn’t get over no matter how hard I tried. Knowing it’s paranoia doesn’t help. And it doesn’t mean I’m not experiencing paranoia.

 

It’s been years since I had it suggested that I had BPD / EUPD. I didn’t want the diagnosis when it was on offer, as my CPN made me feel there’s a lot of stigma around it. But in all those years since then I’ve had a lot of time to accept that it explains my experiences, so even without the official diagnosis I accept it, and have educated myself about my own illness. I know which of my behaviours and thinking patterns are problematic. Does this mean I can necessarily do anything to change them, without help? No. Awareness… insight….it doesn’t mean the illness is a choice. It doesn’t mean you have the answers. And even if you do have the answers it doesn’t mean you know what they are or how to access them even. I might know the level of help I need with an illness like this… I might be able to talk eloquently about what I’m going through… this may make some think I don’t have a problem in reality, as I’m not so bad that I can’t express what’s happening or what I need, but awareness and the ability to discuss my illness does not lessen the grip it has on my life. It doesn’t make it easier to deal with. In fact it’s worse…. to know what’s wrong with you… to know you need help and not be able to get it. To understand when you’re ‘splitting’ or engaging in self-destructive actions, but to be unable to stop and choose a different course, when people would expect you to be ‘smart enough’ to not make those choices. The illness is still real and has control over me… no matter how much I know about it.

 

So I might be opinionated. I might know a lot about my illness. I might go out and have fun sometimes. It doesn’t mean I’m cured. The path to recovery is long… and if every little step along the way is viewed by others as a leap and a sign of no longer being ill, this will lead to unrealistic expectations on me which will send me spiralling backwards. I am trying to survive. I can’t honestly say at this moment I am trying to get better. But I’m trying to endure the hell I live in. Most days it’s not a life worth living. There aren’t many good things in my life, so when I create them for myself this should be seen as an intent to keep striving for recovery, or at least a determination to endure the pain for longer. I should be allowed to have fun or speak my mind without fear of people questioning the reality of my illness.

 

Even things I enjoy, I also struggle with. Things aren’t always as they seem with mental illness. Often you can’t see it… that’s why so much stigma exists. And when doubts are thrown at us about the true extent of our illness, because of the things we CAN do, it is invalidating and makes us feel accused of making it up. I don’t know about you but I can say for certain, I don’t fake being ill …  I fake being well …  just so I can try and fit in and ‘get better’ for real. I realise how self-damaging this is now, as people expect more from me than I can give. That’s why I’ve pulled away from everything. I can no longer pretend to be well. But I promise you this – if you see me out and about either in the work setting or at an event, I will have my mask and smile on and chat as though nothing’s wrong…. it’s habit. It’s not easy to give up when you’ve been conditioned to appear positive around others. Just know there’s more going on underneath than you could ever know.

 

 

 

The List Of Chaos.

  • I spend months talking about how I feel I don’t have any friends.
  • I talk about feeling alone and like nobody cares.
  • You asked me what was wrong, I said I felt invisible, like nobody cares, and I should just keep to myself.
  • Your response was silence.
  • You left me feeling invisible and like you didn’t care.
  • You hardly speak to me anymore.
  • You don’t tell me you miss me. You tell me the kids miss me.
  • You don’t show that you care. You just say I am your friend.
  • I tell you about my mental health, to try and explain my behaviour – you don’t want to hear me. You just get annoyed with me for not being the friend I used to be, and you’re frustrated that I behave how I do.
  • You don’t seem to accept my mental illness.
  • I write about my paranoia, BPD and self-fulfilling prophecies in relation to friendships.
  • You message me saying you don’t know what’s going on but want to sort things out between us and talk of meeting.
  • I am hypervigilant and paranoid however. I feel scared and under threat, so retreat.
  • I feel ashamed and guilty for saying anything and burdening you, saying you don’t deserve having to put up with my illness.
  • I pull away whilst I deal with a couple of things that were hard to cope with.
  • I fight against my emotions, my paranoia and my illness, to contact you and suggest meeting to talk, so I can explain my illness. I admit I’m scared about it. I warn you things won’t be easy with me for a while as I’m ill, so if you don’t want to get involved you don’t have to. Last thing I want is to inflict my illness on you. I never expected you’d take this option.
  • After a couple of days you contact me, don’t really acknowledge anything I said, and just tell me your side – you tell me what an awful time you’ve been having.
  • You tell me you don’t know how to be my friend as you don’t think I want you as a friend. And you just wanted me to talk to you.
  • You tell me things that make me feel guilty for having not been there for you – but how was I to know? I’m not a mind-reader, and I’m too ill to approach others and ask. Sorry I’m a rubbish friend. It’s mental illness – you may have understood if you’d listened to me.
  • You say you need to focus on your own things.
  • This makes me feel like something you can’t be dealing with right now. i.e. ‘a burden’.
  • You then tell me you are my friend and you are here for me, despite giving the impression you cannot be here for me. Empty words.
  • You showed no compassion for my ill health or suffering. And made no reference to meeting up anymore.
  • I  show care that things have not been good for you.
  • I assure you I wanted you as my friend, and thought the same about you.
  • I repeat that I have a mental illness, one I was going to print stuff out about, to give you to understand better.
  • I acknowledge that we obviously need space to focus on our own issues.
  • I show concern for something that you mentioned, and wish the best for that situation.
  • I close my account.

 

 

  • I have no clue how you could think I didn’t want you as a friend.
  • I had been calling out for you to be my friend for months.
  • The post I wrote about paranoia was based on my illness, but on our friendship too.
  • I wrote about feeling possessive and replaced.
  • I feel replaced.
  • I was replaced as ‘best friend’ when you got married. He became your best friend – as he should be. But to someone with BPD it is still a painful feeling of rejection.
  • Wanted to explain this to you.
  • Being the only single person left, I feel lonely and I feel less important to you, now you have a family.
  • I now feel replaced by your other friend who you frequently post about – you have more in common, family and all… so I feel inferior. This comes from low self-worth / self-esteem.
  • You may not like ‘possessiveness’ or ‘jealousy’ but it comes from valuing you, and feeling inferior and insecure. I would have hoped you would respect this and reassure me, rather than feed my insecurities further.
  • I wish you could understand my FEELINGS instead of taking offence at my words.
  • You seem to look and sound happier with these others friends who are married and have children. It kicks in the thought that you’d be better off without me dragging you down. Whether this offends  and upsets you or not, it’s how I feel. I feel inferior and like a burden to you.
  • You have confirmed this by your message.
  • You have confirmed my worst fears. That you don’t want to deal with me anymore.
  • You want to focus on your personal life.
  • I know this will be untrue. You will see the other friend, who isn’t a ‘drag’.
  • She will become the new ‘best friend’. And that fear of being replaced will also come true.
  • I just wanted you to understand where my fears come from…
  • I wanted to explain ‘splitting’ to you as well. It is beyond my control. It is like watching back a movie of your relationship with someone, which has been edited and only shows you the negative times. You know that the positives exist, but they’re not connected to the movie you’re watching. It is not deliberate, and is not about you. It is a faulty thought pattern caused by my mental illness. It distresses me.
  • I wanted to explain this to you. But you avoiding my illness, and rejecting meeting to learn about it, and responding how you did has made me split even further. It’s just added to the problem and made it harder to fix in the future.
  • My paranoia at least is not paranoia now. It’s just true. But I do still have paranoia and I wanted you to understand how hard it is to cope with that, when you’ve never had support for it before. It doesn’t just go away.
  • I wanted you to understand my fear of abandonment, and that when I shut down it is self-preservation mode. It is me trying to protect myself from losing you. I don’t chase people anymore. I withdraw.
  • I wanted you to know it’s because you matter to me that I fear losing you.
  • I sense the changes. I noticed the way you spoke to me changed. I was aware of the amount of time you’d not talk to me.
  • I was paralysed by depression and paranoia, so I couldn’t take the initiative and speak to you, no matter how much you wish I could. I wanted you to learn why it’s impossible for me.
  • I felt you had expectations of me that I could not fulfil because of my mental illness.
  • I know you want me to be who I was before, but I’m sorry I can’t do that right now.
  • I wish I could. I hate feeling suicidal every day.

 

 

 

  • You wanted to meet to sort things. I was afraid and overwhelmed, so didn’t agree to at that time. Then when I said about doing it, you seemed to have given up on the idea. I just feel you don’t understand mental illness at all. I couldn’t talk to you. I was scared of you!
  • It took so much strength and courage to agree to meet and talk. So it was a blow when you didn’t accept it.
  • I don’t understand how you could think I don’t want you as a friend, when I have shown over and over how desperate I am for you to show me your friendship!
  • You are a closed book, so I had no clue you felt this way, or had problems.
  • I never hid how I felt. So you cannot say the same.
  • I know you have your issues. I actually care about you and your family.
  • I cannot help not being there for you. I beat myself up for it. Literally. My hand is bandaged from doing so!
  • I understand you might feel the same, that you cannot be here for me.
  • I understand you may have felt too much pressure to be here for me, but please understand that I am desperate. My life has spun out of control. You cannot expect out of me, what you would expect from any normal person, or even what you expected from me in the past. I’ve never been this ill. I don’t always know what I’m saying / doing… I’m just trying my best to survive. Being judged for the way I do this is not helpful.
  • It could be you are struggling with mental ill-health too, and I’m sorry if that’s the case. But I don’t know about it. I cannot help you if I don’t know anything. You cannot expect me to just know these things.

 

 

  • I was upset nobody was there for me on the first anniversary of Grampa dying.
  • That is where my splitting and paranoia started. It felt the worst that you weren’t there. I thought you would understand and support me. But you then went two months without speaking to me, before writing a less than caring message.
  • I am grieving. I went into the ‘depression’ stage of grief and haven’t come out of it. I thought you would be more understanding of what grief can do to a person.
  • I’ve never grieved before, not like this, so I needed a steady friendship and security to feel safe in a world that suddenly feels unpredictable and scary.
  • Grief and the longest and worst crisis I’ve ever experienced, mixed together, and having to deal with it all alone is hell, and I wish you understood that.
  • I don’t have other friends like you do.
  • I don’t have a partner like you do.
  • I have a tiny little world.
  • I haven’t seen anyone socially for four months, since the last time I saw you.
  • I don’t have someone to confide in.
  • I am alone now.
  • I feel suicidal every day now.
  • I feel you wouldn’t care if I followed through with it.
  • I feel you don’t value my friendship or my life.
  • I understand you have your own life. To be fair I haven’t exactly ripped you away from that life this year. On average I saw you less often than once a month.
  • I know you have to focus on your family.
  • But you make me feel like I’m too demanding for wanting a friend.
  • You make me feel how Joe made me feel… like I’m too much. Too needy.
  • You made me feel worthless.
  • However unintended that may be, it’s how you’ve made me feel.
  • What if I died tomorrow? Would you wish you’d cared more when it mattered? Or do I really not matter to you now?
  • After your message I wanted to die. Or I wanted to put myself in hospital.
  • I ‘just’ harmed myself instead.
  • I couldn’t find my diazepam to calm me down. I panicked looking for it.
  • I had to just get through it and keep myself safe.
  • I’ve appeared strong and positive the last couple of days.
  • Today was hard.
  • I had so many thoughts and words in my head, which I tried to write out, and I just couldn’t do it.
  • I eventually found this way of listing my thoughts clearly. It’s helping.

 

 

  • You may feel like a victim to my mental illness and my behaviour.
  • But you don’t communicate. You expect me to just know. And then seem to hold it against me for not knowing… making me out to be the bad guy – like I’m selfish.
    But you don’t take the time to understand my illness. If you did some research you might understand how I’m feeling right now. I’d do it for you if I found out you had an illness.
  • I feel like a victim.
  • I’m already a victim of my illness.
  • I feel like a victim of isolation and loneliness.
  • And now I feel like a victim by the cold abandonment over the weekend.
  • I feel like you see me as the one in the wrong here. But I cannot see it that way. Because I know about my illness. I know my limitations. I know how desperately I cried out for help all year, to have it ignored. I know my symptoms. I know I say and do things that might not be the best idea – but if you understood the illness you would know it’s never about you. It’s about trying to rid myself of overwhelming emotional pain and suffering. I know I have paranoia. I know everything I’m going through. But I know nothing of what you’re going through. And you seem to expect me to. You then imply you can’t deal with me anymore, and need to focus on you – as though I’m asking too much of you… making me feel like shit… how is that fair??
  • I am hurt.
  • Maybe one day things will work out.
  • But it needs to be acknowledged that you’ve hurt me.
  • Perhaps I hurt you. But I’ve told you multiple times I am ill. And you don’t talk to me, so I never knowingly turn my back on you at your worst times. But you did.
  • I will forgive, but I don’t think I can forget… again, a part of my illness.
  • One of two things will happen… either I will get better, on my own, and we will rekindle our friendship, when I’m in a healthier, stronger place. You will want me back as a friend once I’m not this ill. Or we’ll never speak again. And you can tell me how much you care about me, at my funeral.
  • All I wanted was for you to hear me, and understand I’m not being difficult or awkward – I am ill and you’re seeing my symptoms. I wanted you to treat me with the kindness needed to survive a mental illness that kills 10% of those who have it.
  • I wanted you to care. To really care about me, and to show it.
  • I’m sorry you couldn’t do that.
  • Goodbye.