Why I Disappeared

Hi there,

I disappeared for a while, to deal with some pretty major things I was going through. Some were not safe to talk about, and some I wasn’t ready to talk about.

First, and easier one to talk about is that I had a breakup a couple weeks ago. It was mutual and amicable, but its still painful and difficult. This person taught me so much and I will always be so grateful to them for everything they have taught me and helped me with. We are still going to be friends, but I am sad to lose them in the partnership/romantic capacity. Though, truth be told it wasn’t really working for us. The circumstances were not in our favour and it resulted in a triggering situation for me. My anxiety was super high and I wasnt able to continue dealing with that intense of a trigger. Thats all I’ll say for now, I’m still working through the rest.

Second is that this time of year is so hard for just about everyone. We feel so close to finally being out of the darkness but mother nature has some other ideas in mind and there are still cold days and hard, dark days. I have this habit of taking on too much and not giving myself down time, so I have been trying to do that more this last couple weeks, after dealing with a bit of burn out. I’ve pulled back from most things to focus on rest, excersize and taking care of my emotional well-being to get myself back on track.

The other thing, thats more difficult to talk about, is that one of my abusers was harassing me. In one day there were three comments on here (which I didn’t see right away because I don’t really get notified until I log in, and approve them), two messages on facebook, and one public facebook post in which my musician page was tagged, and once I removed the tag I was named. The message was charming, but untrue and gaslighting. It talked about me living in my own reality, saying that the abuse never happened, making sure to point out I’m mentally ill. We wont go into details, but like I said. it was gaslighting and abusive in a charming way. So charming in fact, that I’ve been dealing with a second wave of difficulties from friends or aquintances who were charmed by her words. I understand why she did it. I mean I did post on here about them, though I never used their names. I understand that wasn’t the kindest move for me to make, and for that I am sorry. I’m sure its difficult for them too, but I did give them opporatunity to work this out, I suggested therapy but they’ve never been willing to meet me even close to half way. The thing is though, that I had no other way of doing it, it wouldnt have been emotionally safe for me to have that conversation in person. I never would have been listened to, not given space or heard. And if they reacted in an angry and explosive way (which they did this way too) I wasnt strong enough to handle it alone. I needed help to see that I, in fact, deserved better. That the things I went through were not okay, I needed help to wrestle my brain out of the gaslit (is that a word?) place it was in. I had no frame of reference to see that the things I grew up with, and dealt with and the way I was treated weren’t normal nor were they okay.

I understand why she did it, though her words weren’t true and didn’t come from a kind place. I understand she wants to protect my mother, and stand up for her. They are close, they love each other a lot, and seem to understand each other. I’m glad for that.

I have never wanted to paint them out to be awful people, they are people who went through awful things and I can’t imagine the pain they must be holding onto, or pushing down. They are not evil, they are not bad, they went through shit things and haven’t been able to face them.

When she posted those things I felt unsafe, it very much seemed like she was amping up to do something and she can be fiery, esp when high. I had to tell my bosses, and I definitely felt unsafe leaving my apartment and going into public for a while

They are saying that I’m doing all of this because I am ‘mentally ill’, that I am living in my own reality, and making this all up. Even if I have mental illness, depression, post-trauma/abuse difficulties that does not mean my story is made up. Let me repeat that, my mental illness does not invalidate my truth. Period. I want to shout this from the rooftops, because its a concept that is stigmatized a lot. When I was in therapy in highschool, and spoke of the stuff happening at home, I was met with ‘you must be overeggagerating because you have Depression and Social Anxiety’ or because I was a teenager, or because I’m sensitive, or because I’m dramatic. Do you hear how ridiculous this sounds? Me being emotionally ill is a RESULT of my story, proof of it even, not invalidating. And, I might add, I have been actively, painfully healing, facing my story and my trauma head on for 10 years now.

It comes in layers, one after another each a little bit deeper to the core than the next. Sometimes it frustrates me that I have been working on healing so long and keep finding more and more layers. Sometimes I want to give up, and sometimes I dont think I have the strength to keep doing it. But I do, I try to keep facing it head on. My mood fluctuates a lot, and thats just kind of how I function, I’ve always been like this. I am sensitive, I feel so deeply, and I have been working at not suppressing my emotions, so when sadness comes up, I let it come up. Sometimes its a couple hours, sometimes a couple minutes, sometimes it plays this stupid pop up guessing game that drives me nuts. Just because I am sad sometimes, doesn’t mean I’m not doing well, or functioning well. And just because I’m happy at times, doesn’t mean I’m doing well. Its a confusing roller coaster that I am just holding on and learning to ride, navigate and heal.

Okay, I think thats all, I mean thats a lot. That does kindof sum up my absence. I didn’t post for a while because I didn’t feel safe, I still don’t in some ways. I felt scared, for my safety, scared because I know there are untrue, unkind things being said about me, and I was feeling a lot.

How have you all been doing?

Lots of love

B.

Good Days

When I was little I used to play this “prank” on my sister, and when she wasn’t looking I’d put a piece of my dinner in her milk. Sometimes I’d chose the food unwisely and it would float, but sometimes she wouldn’t notice until the end of the glass. I can still hear the unimpressed and annoyed younger sister tone she took my name in when she finally found it. I thought this was hilarious. I’d gut myself laughing every single time, boy did I think I was clever.

I always dreamed of putting an elastic around that little showerhead part of the kitchen sink too, but was a bit too chicken to try that one out.

We had a whole bunch of forts in our yard in the trees, and when it snowed we would build snow forts. Quite a few times this just included a large space where we put little mini snow walls a few inches high to mark where our rooms would be, and we would make a little house. Sometimes we’d decorate it, or include “furniture” out of the logs and twigs we found. On more than one occassion we also made a slide out of the snow on the deck stairs.

I remember so many times where the three of us would be laughing so hard, likely at something silly, that we would all be weazing and usually end in us racing to pee.

After my minor surgery my mom came over a lot, helped me with food, we did a puzzle, went for walks. We used to walk at Lemoine Pointe and go for breakfast and I loved every minute of it. I loved getting to know her and spend time with her. With both of them.

My grandmother was the most passionately fierce woman I ever met. She would stand up and protest for those who needed a voice, she would stand up for human rights, she wanted the world to be a better place. She used to do this impression of a witch that scared the living daylights out of us, but when she was looking at someone else it was the funniest damn thing.

My sister and I used to pretend to be ‘super spies’. We had our notebooks, had chosen our ‘cars’ and even imagined a tv communication device on our living room wall where we would talk to HQ. We would run around likely saving the world in some way, or taking notes on anyone in the house, though I bet you any money they knew we were there the whole time. Partly because our floors have a lot of places that squeak, and well, we were little kids who were probably always making more noise than we thought.

My sister is also fiercely passionate, crazy smart, and she is truly hilarious. When she was a kid she did hands down the best voice impressions I ever heard. I remember one was ‘I can still smell it’ but I cant remember what that was from, I just remember my mom found it so funny she’d ask my sister to say it all the time.

My mom is sensitive, intelligent, creative and beautiful. When company visits she always is thoughtful enough to give them snacks to get them through the drive home. She has an amazing taste in music, which she loves. She helped me out more than a few times with financial issues, medical scares, and hell even that time my cat ate ribbon and I was far too scared and weak stomached to handle it.

I love them both, and I have no doubt in my mind, nor have I ever doubted that they are going to do amazing things. They are going to achieve their dreams, make a difference, be creative and laugh a whole bunch at silly jokes while doing it. I want nothing but all of this for them.

All of this is true. All of it. But so are the other things I’ve said. These beautiful people were born into unfortunate circumstances. We have hurt over and over from the passing of loved ones, and from the wounds given to us by others. People are complicated, our histories are complicated.

All of what I just said is true, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t emotionally abused. It doesn’t change all of the other things I felt too. It doesn’t make them any less true.

I was lucky enough to have a warm house to live in, strong women around me, food to eat, financial support, I was physically safe, got to take lessons and own pets. I was also emotionally abused. And having those other safeties, and luxuries doesn’t make my experiences invalid, my experiences any less real. Nor does my mental health. And just because I was emotionally abused doesn’t mean I discount the good days, or hate them. Fuck, I love them so much it genuinely tears me apart that this is how it had to end, not being able to communicate and be heard, and needing to end the relationship.

Thanks for listening.

Red Light (flashback)

I’ve slept about 20 hours in the last five days, I’m on the bus feeling vulnerable from a social event. The bus turns down this road, down a hill in the dark. Now, I’ve been down this road hundreds of times before, but its been a long time. I purposely avoid this route these days, even avoid seeing my doctor on this side of town, but still I’m familiar with the turns, the stops and the lights. I know if you turn left at this red light you’ll get to a statue, make a right and a left and you’re at the house I grew up in. The house I grew up in with you. This paticular dark night I braved to look out the window, and when we drove up the winding hill I am reminded of all of the other times I’ve driven up this damn hill. With you. I’m reminded of the times you made me walk home across the bridge, all of the days I’d sit at this stop light on my way home to visit, all of the times we would be at this light home from school. The times we sat in the car-you fighting and screaming, each and every single time I felt like the worst god damn thing that ever existed or happened to you. I was born into the reason you were unhappy, the disappointment, and the human who was the equivalent of a breathing, sensitive mistake. As my bus drives up this hill a montage of moments both happy and sad, painful and horrible fill my minds eye, and this drowning ache fills my heart. I will never again drive up this hill and turn left to see you. I will never again be full of that hope that this time, maybe this time, for the first time I would feel like I belonged when I walked in that door. I will never get the chance to say all the things to you that I always played through in my head, because just as then, you will never listen. You will never see me, nor you will never say any of those things that I’ve always needed, hell deserved, to hear.

Did you know that in highschool, all those times I’d be walking or driving across that fucking bridge I’d think about throwing myself off of it? Because the idea of living in this hell, where I was made to feel like dirt by the people who are supposed to love and cherish and support you made me feel physically ill. I starved myself to fit into the kind of daughter I thought you wanted me to be, the kind of grand-daughter she wanted me to be. I suppressed my voice, I took your shit, I changed my clothes, I gave up secrets, I made sacrifices, I put my life and my happiness on hold because you made me feel guilty any time I felt even remotely happy, or walked into view.

All those times I’d be driving home whether from a friends or to visit from out of town I’d fill with this dread of what was to come. Was today going to be a day you would be happy to see me? Or was it going to be a day you tell me I’ve given you separation anxiety for moving 4 hours away, or when you tear up because instead of spending another night at home in front of the TV with you ignoring me, I decided to go to a friends house where I felt like for even a couple hours I belonged.

The damn bus drove up this hill into my past and I just managed to catch my breath. I let all these fucking images pass, not that I had a choice, and just tried to breathe. Remind myself that the monsters are gone. That when the bus stops, you wont get on. That not every 23 year old with brown hair is you, not every silver fucking car is you, and that I have nothing to be afraid of. Because despite all of the thousands of moments in the 23 years I heard you tell me different, it was not my fault you were unhappy. It was not my job as your child, or your older sister or your granddaughter to cure you, to fix you, to make you happy. I am and was not a stress ball you could squeeze and emotionally torture anytime you felt like you lost your grip despite your feeling of entitlement to do that anyway. It was not my fault for being a sensitive depressed and grieving kid, that you decided to abuse me. Because it was a choice. I don’t give a fuck what you say, you chose this. You chose to close your eyes to your own lives and to explode on whatever was easiest, and unfortunately that was mainly me.

This damn bus got to this red light and I remembered every time I got to this light, seeing you for the first time in a few months, that I sat here with a sense of hope, a plan of action. I’d find a way to prove to you I am good enough. Maybe if I was funnier, more superficial, less superficial, quieter, prettier, skinnier, dating, single, successful, I’d be worth your time. I’d be worth your love, this supposed unconditional familial love I’ve heard so much about. Maybe then I’d belong and know what it feels like to be in a family, a group of people who have your back and root for your success and happiness and have nothing but support and love for you even on the days that doesn’t happen. Even on the days the sun doesn’t come up.

I sat there at that damn light, knowing that chapter is done. Those hopes will never be fulfilled by you, neither will your words continue to cut me. You have lost the access to my heart, to me. So that you may not continue to abuse me and keep me small. I deserve a place where I feel at home, (real home), where I feel like I belong, where I feel safe, seen and heard.

Im sat on that damn bus in the dark at a red light, thankful it wasn’t turning left.

How do I help someone with Borderline Personality Disorder?

One of the most frequent questions I’m asked is how someone can better help someone they love with borderline or mental illness. So I thought we would talk a little bit about that today, so whether you need help to connect with a loved one, or you yourself have borderline or struggle with rough shit and just wanna know you arent alone and maybe pick up a tip or two, sit tight!

The first thing I’ll say is ask them! I know that it can feel awkward and uncomfortable to ask blunt questions, or to be vulnerable enough to ask a question like this, but it makes a big difference. Before you do, ensure that you are in a grounded place, that you are able to listen without judgement, that you arent thinking about your response, or anything, for that matter, but understanding what you’re about to hear. Make sure that the other person is in a grounded place, isn’t already triggered, is feeling themselves and that they in a place where they are in touch with their ‘wise mind’, or where they are in a place not entirely run by their emotional mind. (Make sense?). Kay cool, so now you know you’re both chill? Go somewhere with privacy or that feels safe for that person, say something like “I’d really like to talk to you more about your experiences and learn how to best help you, ask you some questions, if you feel up for that”. Ask them questions, don’t be afraid, likely they will be glad someone is trying to understand in a validating and loving way. Ask them what its like when they are triggered, if there are any recurring themes in thought patterns. For example, when I’m triggered or in a bad place my brain is really good at convincing me that I am not cared for, that I’m not important, etc. Ask them what helps, if there’s anything they need to hear or any activities that help: walking, cute animal videos, you know.

So now when it comes to talking to someone who is in a difficult headspace dont take it personally, and don’t under estimate how helpful it is to simply validate their struggles and pain. I can not tell you how good it feels for someone to say “well of course you’re feeling greif, you’re going through some really tough shit, but I think you’re doing really well and that you’re really strong”. Remind them of the things they’ve done right. “Hey, you got out of bed, even though you didn’t feel like you coulld AND you went to work, look at you go!” Or “you have made it through x many months! You stood up for yourself, you’re seeing a therapist, you’ve grown so much I’m really proud of you”. And remind them you care and that they’re important to you/others. I dont give a fuck how many times you have told them you love them, or how important they are to you. Tell them again, it costs you nothing and likely they are fighting with their own damn brain to believe they even deserve to exist. Tell. Them. You. Appreciate/see. Them. Got it? Good.

Okay, now more specific things that I find helpful! A while ago when I was in a really rough spot I came up with this system of victories and it helped me SO much. So I got 2 jars, labelled one ‘small victories’ one ‘big victories’. what those are you decide. For small victories (brushing my teeth, eating, getting out of bed, brushing the cat, whatever you decide) I’d put about 5-10 cents in the jar, and big (excersizing, standing up for yourself, going to therapy, meditating, doing your homework, leaving your apartment…you get it) it’d be anywhere from a quarter to a twoonie. At the end of the day I’d tally it all up and put the money in each selective jar and it was a visual reminder that even though I felt like maybe I was failing, or not doing well, fucking everything up I could remember the things I accomplished that went well and feel good about that. Now, I don’t do the coin system currently, but my partner and I have started this little ritual of sharing our days victories with one another and it is really helpful. Its nice to hear the other persons accomplishments, and support them in that, and its nice to share your own. Now some days you’re gunna be like “damn I killed it, nothing but victories today” other days you’ll be like “welp, i didn’t punch anyone at school, and I didn’t wear pjs all day” and thats still fucking amazing. The added bonus is that once you do one, you want to do more. If coins doesn’t work stickers is always a good one too, they ain’t just for kids you know.

An old friend of mine explained to me years ago that in their life they considered themselves as having four or five areas that were really important to them, that when put together and balanced out, made them happiest and most themselves. So, if they were spending too much time studying and not enough with friends they’d be out of whack. For them, I believe they had said school/learning, social, creative, work, gym/moving their body, and rest. When things feel off ask yourself ‘what do I need’, think of maybe those things that might make up your healthy balance, say pie chart stylez. (Yes I said it) When was the last time you saw a good friend? Or moved your body? When was the last time you ate a good home cooked meal with someone you love.

I have plenty more things but I will stop there for now, and just remind you its entirely individual. Its nice to be thought of and asked about, its nice when things are dark to hear people be straight up with me ‘are you safe? Do you want to hurt yourself?” If yes, “either come over, or lets go for a walk.” Or whatever you know? Last lil tip I’ll give is sometimes its nice to have kindof a code with those people. When things are really dark it feels impossible to ask for help. Maybe ask them if a code word or phrase would help? Even a number system: 1. I need company 2. Call me 3. I’m really sad and could use a few heart emojis and you to tell me you love me. 4. All the funny memes please 5. Need cute animal vids. You decide! But it can help to know you have that option for when you’re in a place so dark asking for help feels like climbing everest.

Have any other tips? Feel free to comment what works for you!

Wanna help support my blog? Share it with your friends! Reach out and shoot me a message. Like the insta/fb page for more often, mini BHB. And please consider donating using the ‘buy me a coffee button’ on side or bottom of page to help me keep up with costs of running the site.

Lastly! I’m going to post weekly here on out. Now I’ve said it I gotta. If you have questions or things you’d really like me to talk about please do reach out. I really like hearing from you all.

Christmas

Happy New Year! Here’s hoping that 2019 will bring better things. It fucking better, cuz honestly I’m pretty tapped out of shit going wrong. I do know thats life, don’t try and pull that card but I would appreciate just a few months where some things go right, you know? I’m fuckin tired.
Continue reading “Christmas”

I’m sorry

Good afternoon babe(s)
I hope you all had a really great halloween. I’m not really choosing a theme or topic today, I just wrote whatever came up. Kind of stream of consciousness, which often is what I do. Hopefully its easy-ish to follow.

I’m sorry that I don’t work the way you find easiest to understand. I’m sorry about all of my mistakes, and every time I wasn’t willing to own up to my shit. I’m sorry that I too often didn’t ask or listen when you needed me to, and that I asked too much of you too often. The weight of my world often felt to much to carry, but I should never have expected you to help me do the lifting. I’m sorry if I can be selfish, and I’m sorry I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
Continue reading “I’m sorry”