Rowboat (friendships)

This post has by far been the hardest one to try and put into words. Be patient, and try and to set aside judgment.
  I spent most of the day sad, sleeping, or crying.  I did go see my moms dog (always helps), and go to yoga (holy fuck I love it so much, its my home) and I feel better now, but this morning, I felt horrible.  It was interpersonal stuff.  I feel like, right now, most people I’m starting to feel close to are either moving, or have ended the friendship, or hurt me.  I feel really alone.  So, I thought I would try and explain to you or, let you see a little of the darkness that happens in situations like this.

‘”They say, you’re a little much for me,
You’re a liability.
You’re a little much for me”
So I pull back,  make other plans, I understand,
I’m a liability,
I’m a little much for everyone’
(Lorde – Liability)

Imagine friendships like sitting on a row boat. Not just one friendship, all of them.  Every time that one friendship develops an issue, like someone letting me down and then ‘ghosting’ me, is like you throwing a cinder block off that boat and it starts to rock.  Sometimes it feels as though multiple cinder blocks are thrown off at the same time, and the boat rocks so much that it tips over, or it sinks all together.  Friendship, for me, is a scary dark path sometimes.  Interpersonally, is the only place you’d see my borderline.  I hide it fairly well (not on purpose), and I’ve done a ton of healing.  But in friendships, I can be triggered in so many areas, my fear or abandonment comes up, my attachment issues, and because I feel so isolated and deeply alone so often, I can sometimes cling on in hopes I don’t feel that alone again.  I give a whole bunch of undeserved hope into the person before I even know them.  Unfortunately, I for a long time let myself get treated horribly, so these fears are pretty deep, and a sometimes I feel like those lyrics are how all people see me, whether they show it or not.  ‘You’re a little much for me, you’re a liability’.  Generally my emotional self is way too intense for someone, or I am far “too sensitive”.  Usually the attachment stuff is triggered by a paticular personality type that might be similar to someone in my past.  Or, by something, whether it be a lack of response, or I’ve convinced myself somehow (I can usually find tons of reasons why, stupid brain) that you would rather not have me in my life.
I am a complicated person, in a way. Though, generally speaking if you are straight forward and open with me, its easy to understand me and get along with me.  I need to face and talk about issues I might have, feelings that may have been hurt, otherwise they will eat me alive, and it will escalate.  If I were a die I would have multiple sides, I don’t know how many, but there are different versions of me depending on who I am with, and where I am.  There are exceptions to this for sure.  There are very few people that I have been able to show all of those sides to.  I can be really goofy, really serious, really sassy, bubbly, laid back, more materialistic, less materialistic, emotional, philosophical.  Some people see a lot of the serious and emotional sides of me.  Generally it all comes out with time, but the trouble is, most people seem to get stuck on the emotional side, and quit there, because its “a little too much”. And it leaves me feeling like its my fault.  Throughought my life I have messed up my fair share of friendships, but I have also had a lot of people quit on me, because of this illness, or depression, or just the fact that I’m so sensitive.   Currently, there is a list in my head of people who are more on the ‘non-friend’ spectrum of things.  A few people who stopped answering me when I tried to be upfront about my hurt feelings, who don’t ever put time into talking to me, unless I talk to them, one or two who out right said some of the meanest things to me I’ve ever heard. There are some that are in a grey area, there are some from months ago, most honestly.  Its to the point where most people probably would have moved on.  But I keep replaying the friendship in my head looking for the place I went wrong.  When I have bad days, or when yet another friendship has a problem I add it to the list of reasons why I can’t seem to keep anyone close to me.  I text too much, I don’t text enough, I’m too emotional, too selfish, a downer, a bad person. The list is endless, and its so easy for me to get stuck there, under that stupid row boat, and drown feeling so alone, because sometimes it feels like everyone else would be better off not being friends with me.   Like I don’t deserve to be loved, I don’t deserve to have friends.  The person that told me I was an “over dramatic queen” must have been right, the person who told me I have not grown at all, and that I’m stuck in my own sap story, that I’m selfish, and a horrible person, they must be right.  That must be why blank person stopped talking to me.  They saw that all in me, and knew I wasn’t worth it.

Well, thats not all of it, but thats a sneak preview into some of the darkness in my head.
Pointers: avoid saying things like ‘let it go’, ‘oh well’, ‘stop being so sensitive’, don’t take everything so personally’ to someone with BPD after they tell you about something going on in their life.  .  Maybe even to most people.  But to me, when you say that, it makes me feel like none of the feelings I told you about matter, that Im weak for feeling them, that I’m broken, that I’m a burden, that it and I don’t matter.  Even if you don’t ‘mean it that way’, its like throwing a glass of water in my face, it feels insulting, and hurts.
If I as you if we are okay, don’t get mad.  I’m trying to ease a circular storm thats brewing, and I need some kind of external validation because I’m so deep I can’t see whats up or down.  If I ask you if we are okay answer honestly, if we are, keep it simple.
It also helps if you remind me you care.  Especially after I’ve poured out my heart, or opened up about emotions.  I’m not looking for you to fix me, I just want you to listen.  Listen, and remind me you care tell me it will be okay.

Well, thats it for now I have to be up early. I’m really nervous about this one, because I’m afraid people will read this and just think I’m crazy, but, well, I told you I’d be brutally honest.

Borderline Babe.

Gloomy, Rainy Day

Here we are, another ridiculous day.  Ever have days where the weather just matches your mood?  Not necessarily that it changes your mood just that it starts pouring rain and you say “yeah sounds right”. (Usually I love rain, but sometimes the gloom suits). Today, my lovely internet friends, was that kind of day.  Now, usually my mood can change minute to minute, from extreme to extreme, like little coloured marbles. Sometimes it changes so quickly I get whiplash, but sometimes those little moments that are all grey gloomy colours tend to pile up, and form a mountain of a grey gloomy day; with some bits of sunshine splashed in there, for a sense of false hope. (Haha, but seriously right? Thats how it feels)  So, let me paint you a little imaginary picture. The last two nights I have not been sleeping well, (sleep and nightmares is another story), I have been working through some digestive things, waiting for surgery, there’s a lot physically going on in my body right now, which effects my energy level, and general energy.  There’s a lot going on in my life.  (Lots of amazing things I’m so grateful for too). Today I woke up, everything hurt, my head was pounding, I wanted to roll over and not get up, I felt so incredibly sad.  I pulled myself up, ate breakfast, made a lunch, brought a smoothie in my favourite travel mug (I just bought it for myself to celebrate this blog, teaching, and where I’m at.  It says “I bend so I dont break” on it, it is white and gold and beautiful. It reminds me why I do what I do, and how I got to where I am. Plus how incredibly lucky I am to have an amazing teaching job). I pulled my sorry ass down the street to work (the one that isn’t my dream job), all the while my body protesting, my heart in my stomach, my head full of jackhammers, and that inner child throwing one hell of a tantrum.  I got to work, the job that I like, but its not my passion, and I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t want to be awake at 630am, I didn’t want to turn those bright lights on.  I tried to listen to music, smile like an idiot when all I wanted to do was frown, still, those dark stormy waves came crashing down.  It was busy, and the first bit passed quickly and my coworker got there and I remember saying “I’m grumpy today” as both of us were half-asleep walking around the cafe.  Part of the duties on Thursday is to count inventory.  You know this, you count each individual milk, each syrup, each cup sleeve, each coffee bean (ok thats exaggerated but thats how it felt this morning. Thats how everything felt this morning). I felt like I just wanted to be hugged, to cry, to sleep.  I open the fridge to count the stupid milk, and a whip cream carton knocks over my mug (you remember, my beautiful new TWO DAY OLD mug, that I love so much) and it broke.  Broke into pieces. Smoothie in my shoe, it was a mess.  Maybe you’re thinking “could have been worse”, but I may as well have thrown that $25 dollars into the garbage instead of spending it on the only damn mug of its kind left in the store.   I can see now that its not the end of the world, but this morning I went and hid in the backroom to cry.  I could go into more detail, but I think you get the drift.  To a “normal” (hahaha right, like that exists) person, this may have not seemed like a big deal.  Maybe a little annoying, but you’d say “aw shit” and move on?  To me, it felt like all the love I’ve been trying to give myself was slapped out of my hands, felt like the universe was like “AH HAH! You THINK you’re getting better eh? Well I’ll show you”. Not that it is. It felt like it was my heart that broke.  The day went on, other things happened, I have a big dentist bill, I was in pain, and tired. It felt like my body was moving against me with the BPD, the cyst, digestion issues, and now dental stuff?  It felt like the universe was playing with me.   I cried a few more times, and pulled myself together to get to the studio.  As I get there, a lady standing outside says “what gloomy weather” and I heard myself say “true, but thats okay, it has to happen some days, or we wouldn’t enjoy the sunshine”. Well. Fuck. I thought, yeah today’s been horrible, but shouldn’t that be under that same logic.  As always, teaching was amazing, then the day went back to its stubborn self, but it has to happen sometimes. Damn wisdom.   Its so easy for me sometimes to see things in all or nothing.  The mug broke, I got the dentist estimate and “nothing ever works out for me.  Life is hard. Why even bother doing nice things, working so hard”. Then things are good and i’m all “life is sugar, and roses, and everything’s beautiful, and everyone’s great.” (I don’t necessarily think these things, this is my half-asleep brain you’re communicating with here). Now and then, I have moments like these, where I can see that this gloomy rainy, messy day, isn’t every day.  And if it weren’t for these days, I wouldn’t love or appreciate  the good sunny days as much.

Well, different tone in this one, a bit ranty, but I did say picture.  Those have a lot of detail…
But my cat has not decided the best spot to sit is on my hands right in front of the screen, and I’m awkwardly trying to look over her body.  Shes getting away with it, the queen she is. Therefore my painting has come to a close for today.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you to the rain.

Over and out
Borderline Babe


Alright, folks.
I thought it was scary when I first started this, being so open, raw, and sharing such a deep part of myself I usually hide away…then people started reading it.  Then it became real, that people were reading it.  I’ve only gotten good feedback (thank god, you know how sensitive I am haha) and the things people have said to me have touched me, and really meant a lot to me.  A few of you have said I’ve made you cry, and while I do feel guilty, I know you mean it as a good thing, that I speak to you, and a few people have said that its helping.  So, here I am, sipping homemade cider given to me by a ridiculously kind friend of mine, sitting in my apartment channelling my inner, less chic Carry Bradshaw (mostly in the sense that I’m writing a blog and saying it in my head as I type it) trying to figure out what dark little secret to bring out next.  How deep to go, and trying not to sensor myself, and stay true to my Brutally Honest intentions.  So, why not dive really deep, I’m going to give you a trigger warning right now.  I’m going to talk a bit about self harm in this post.  Click away now.  (Esp if you are in my family and are already holding on for dear life.  You wont like this, I’m sorry, but it needs to be said.)

Do you remember the story I told you about how after my grandmother dressing me so long, I was finally able to chose my clothes?  I excitedly walked upstairs to show her, she told me I looked to fat, and my little kid heart broke?  I think I was nine.  That was the first day I cut myself, I used a tin can, and hid it on my ankle.  But the reason that day stands out so much, is that was the day I’d had enough.  I wasn’t really allowed to express my feelings anywhere in my life, I was being constantly told that I wasn’t good enough, I was too fat, too selfish, too sensitive.  Meanwhile people were dying all around me, and I didn’t have a whole whack load of friends (or I didn’t really know how to connect to them properly). That was the day that it all came crashing down, and I believed them, everything that had gone wrong in my life had to be my fault.    I was always sneaky about it, never self-harming anywhere people could see, and if I did, I’d make sure it would look accidental.   I moved, eventually to my thigh, where I moved up from tin cans, and sometimes would self-harm multiple times a day.  It was rough, and that went on for at least nine years straight.  Then off and on for the next seven, and if you’re doing this math you know that that wasn’t that long ago.  I assure you, it ended fully for years at a time.  I stopped completely almost a year ago, or a little more.  I remember being so afraid of people seeing the scars, maybe they would not see me as fit for my dream job, maybe they’d judge me, maybe they’d see me.  It took me a long time to wear shorts, especially high ones that made the scars more visible.  This, self-harming, is one of the symptoms of BPD.  (And also a ton of other things.). For me, it felt like I had been boiling over for so long and trying to hold a lid down on my emotions that one day I exploded, and self-harming let a little air out at a time, and made everything else safe (but not really).  It also was my way of punishing myself for not ever being good enough for anyone around me to love me.  Some of these voices are still there, and I’ve learned to try and hush them, or give them their time to shine so they’ll shut the fuck up.  Sometimes I worry that I’m intruding on someone by spending time with them because they can’t possibly think I’m good enough to be around.  I know, logically I am good enough.  I am trying to learn that emotionally and like everything else it goes in waves.  I have weak moments where those voices scream back at me and try to subdue me again, but it doesn’t last as long as it once did.  I sometimes would punch myself in the thighs, or punch walls, but acts of anger like that were never really suiting for me. I am not by any means saying that it is okay, and if this post is making you want to, please dont.  I’m saying this so that if you see someone with scars, you know that they probably felt like that was their only option.  They felt like they needed to do it for some reason or another, they maybe didn’t feel supported enough to find another outlet, or safe enough to express themselves in any other way.  Or maybe they were taught to hate themselves, and that was the only logical thing for them to do at the time.  I am telling you so that if you know someone, fall in love with someone, become friends with someone with scars, you can see it as a part of the journey, you can kiss them and hold them a little closer for having the bravery to get through it, and stop.  Because that is a dark, dark journey.  And to get to the point where you see that as a logical thing, a good thing to do, you have fallen far.  You are standing in complete darkness, completely alone, even if you’re surrounded.  You are hopeless, and can’t, with any part of you, love yourself.   I promise, it dissipates. It fades, you get through it, and you might still feel alone even when you’re surrounded, but now and then the veil comes off your eyes and you see all the people that have been standing there beside you the whole time, even for a little while.  Next time you want to hurt yourself go outside, sit by the water, feed ducks (seeds not bread), hug your cat, hug your partner, smile to a stranger.  I promise it gets better, even when you feel like you’re covered in wounds and holes, and there’s not a single way you see yourself making it, there is.  It fades.  And you’re loved.  I love you, hell, even if I dont know you I love you.  You’re good enough.

I read a beautiful poem I wish I had saved, about how your body is like a canvas.  All those stretch marks, all the scars, tattoos, those are the paintings, those tell your story.  Show off that beautiful canvas, and be proud of it.

On that note, I did a yoga class the other day, showing my whole stomach.  (I wore a bra obviously) that was the first time I have ever done that.  I was standing directly behind someone which was probably good, gave me less time to criticize myself.  But, I survived.  I am trying to learn to love my canvas, even if the dimensions might not be what I consider “good enough” but, will it ever be? Isn’t it just a cycle, isn’t there always something else that needs to be fixed?  I say (or i’m trying to), fuck it, just be you, because you are amazing.

Over and out
Borderline Babe.

Dear You (letter to an abuser)

Its been a while, I apologize.  I wont give excuses, I did tell you I wasn’t great at the everyday posting thing.  Before I write this, know that its a big, scary step to do so.  If you’re in my life you might read this and get caught up on who it is.  Thats not the point, this is not a mystery novel where I’m asking you to solve my riddles. I’m writing this to get it out, because I know there are other people that feel the same.  It could apply to multiple people, multiple scenarios.  So, put away any pitchforks, any guilt, and listen. Please.

Dear you
I am your shadow.  I dream of a day when I’m looked at the way you are.   When my feelings matter as much as yours do.  When I can leave your side feeling like even half a human.   You are dangerous.  Because you fill with me with such a hope and a dream that would make me so happy I can’t even explain it.  But see, by now it’s just a hopeful foolish dream that I know by now will never come true. Because everytime this wee little seedling of a dream starts to sprout you take away the sunshine and it gets burned away.  This glimpse into the life I wish I could have from the life that was forced upon me.   You don’t seem to see me, you interupt me like my words don’t hold a meaning, act as if i don’t have any feeling, and this whole time you’ve seen me by your side as a selfish bully.  Meanwhile you’ve gotten away with emotional murder.   You turned your gaze away from the daggers in me, and you decided to join in the stabbing.  I devoted myself to you, to making sure you’re happy and healthy, turning my gaze from the abuse and manipulation you gifted to me in return.
To you, I will always be the scapegoat, who you will turn your gaze from, filling my heart with fake words,  making me feel small, alone and broken.
From, Me

There we go,  one more scary blogy step forward.
Over and out
Borderline babe.


I’ve been having nightmares and sleeping problems for as long as I can remember.  They go in waves,  sometimes I sleep fine, but sometimes I dont.  There are days that I wake up, and I feel like I have been crying all night, and feel so alone.  There are days I wake up and feel like I’ve been having an anxiety attack all night.  This isn’t necessarily borderline related as much as trauma I think.

This morning I woke up feeling really sad.  I don’t know why, I tried very hard to move past it, and it did fade, especially when I was doing what I love and teaching, but it tends to creep back at times.  So, this sadness is a stubborn creature, it doesn’t nitpick and judge (well, it judges in different ways) It likes to just feel sad all the time.  Sometimes a little thing will happen, and brighten up my day and I shoot up to a two, like going to the top of a mountain, then the slightest disappointment can make me come crashing back down lower than I was before.  And I know its completely irrational, for example, today a friend suggested we meet up when they had a free few hours.  I got really excited, because all I’d wanted all day is to hug someone.  Then, in the end it didn’t end up making any sense because they would have only had a short amount of time.  Knowing this logically did not translate to my emotional mind, emotionally I felt so disappointed, sad, even lonelier.  I didn’t feel like I was worth anyone’s time.  I was afraid that I was worthless, and would just be a disappointment.  This makes no sense, obviously, because there was no logical reason for it.  However, thats how I felt.  This, is a trigger (kind of.).  Its frustrating sometimes for this to happen, because I feel myself lose it and know that it makes no sense and then feel crazy, or like they’d definitely not like me now.  I feel myself get anxious about losing them, about not being good enough, and I no longer act like myself.  I dont see everything the same way, its like I’m wearing those classes with the stripes that were a big thing forever ago. I’m only seeing half the picture.  But I don’t know that I’m wearing these glasses until after they come off.  So, sometimes I can be hard to speak to because logic wont get through to me, logic no longer gets through to me.  It can be hard to get through to me, to talk to me, to understand whats going on in my head.  And it will likely seem irrational, and maybe silly or whatever to you.  But I can’t help it.  I can try and calm down, but I mainly just need time.  Hugging helps, physical contact helps a ton.  Animal videos, reminding me I matter to you, that you care.    I am lucky to have some amazing friends.  At an event this weekend, I started to lose my footing, I started to panic, freak out, I didnt even really know what was going on.   I was overwhelmed, and a small thing sent me over the edge.  Then, a friend of mine came in to help, they were so amazing.  They stood with me, hugged me, stayed with me.  The physical contac part of it made the biggest difference to me.  Also just them as a person, I love them a lot and they mean a lot to me.

This has kind of been a bit of a ramble, but its a little about triggers, kind of a small example, and what to do if its happening to someone you care about.  I should say, that not everyone’s touch is helpful.  There are very paticular people that help, and there are some that hurt. It depends on how open our relationship is.  Best thing to do is ask.

Thanks for reading, keep up the good work

Don’t Judge Me (finding out I had BPD)

I have written and rewritten this blog post about five times.  There are so many things to talk about, and so much amazing support so far.  Thank you so much for reading.  I’m warning you, this wont always be easy to read.  It will become more painful at times, it will be sad, it will be raw, it will be brutally honest.  Keep reading these posts at your own risk lol.  But seriously, its going to be sad. But I hope that it opens a few eyes to living with mental illness, how to live with it, or at the very least, that if you are dealing with it,  you’re aren’t in it alone.  

I still have more to tell you about the abandonment fears, but I’m going to save that for another day.
When I was first told I had borderline, I read everything I could find, asked everyone I knew.  I either ended up empty handed, or read horrible judgmental things about those of us with BPD.    I think humans in general are super quick to judge, we see someone’s actions, and assume personality traits from them.  With BPD these traits people apparently conclude sometimes, is that we are manipulative, selfish, unempathetic, just overall terrible people.  And on TV?  Omg, its always a fucking serial killer.  I watched a show a while ago and someone accidently killed a whole town (some super power thing), and they said “Sounds like shes got borderline”.  Hold up, I’m sorry EXCUSE ME? How on earth will we ever be able to openly talk about mental illness if this kind of crap is in our face all the time?  And if youre reading this thinking “oh god I have no idea what borderline even is”. That’s okay.  We’ll get there, you’re taking the right steps to knowing.  Just be careful what you read.  One of the biggest parts of someone with someone with borderline recovering (I should put in here, there is no cure, no medication, it doesn’t go away.  It stays, but we can learn to live with it, and we can get to a point where we might have “traits of” rather than be in the depths of it) is community support.  Love. Acceptance.  Being able to talk about it.  People taking the time to see you, listen and ask.  I garuntee you if you talk to anyone with Borderline and trace back to their history, it all makes sense.  (Or maybe it doesn’t.  But it does for me).  I’m getting sick of people assuming the worst in me, because out of fear, I got anxious and asked them not to leave me.  There are quite a few gems who have stuck it out, known that its not me.  Who take the time to see me.  Once I was diagnosed, I went through every single damn friendship or relationship that went wrong and questioned whether it was my fault.  All of a sudden I felt like my feelings of not belonging, of being broken, of being alone, isolated were proven to be true.  It was my fault I lost all those people.  I am a bad person. I am manipulative.  It took me a while to get back and be able to see that no, these stigmas aren’t true.  Yes, I’ve messed up, but its always a two way street.  (I had a lot of help from good friends here-who will to this day remind me if I need it)

Okay, sass aside. Sometimes I dissociate. You might be thinking, wait babe (heh), what does that even mean?  Oh, hold on, I’ll get there.  Its probably different with everyone, but for me I have varying degrees of dissociating.  It depends on the cause, and the kind of state I was in previously.  Smaller degrees, I have a horrible memory, sometimes I’ll zone out like you’re average jo. Joe? Why is that even a thing? Anyway, oh, also changing the subject like that, getting distracted easily.  Thats just me sometimes, I get easily excited.  Sometimes its like….there’s a choice between a panic attack or dissociating, and its a flip of a coin.  The worst time it happened I totally blacked out, my grandmother told me I’d gone into shock.  But most of the time it feels like….slipping off a cliff. I fall for a little while, then I just sort of hover, watching myself go throughout my day.  I’m not really there, I probably wont engage that much, no more than I need to to seem like I’m fine on the outside.   Eventually though, I tend to snap, if triggered.  It kind of feels like I’m under water, like my blood sugar is really low.  Like….my body is weighed down by cement, and i’m being held under water.  I hurt, I am so tired, I want to explode but cant.  On the outside it sometimes is hard to tell, unless you know me.  I will be really unengaging.  I’ll tend to look down, not say much.  I might be fidgety,or not move at all.  It generally only happens in situations where a bunch of little things have piled up, and I’m not in a place I feel safe, in a large group, somewhere where I cant escape for a little bit.  (Mostly in jobs I hate, when I’m at bars, meeting a lot of new people).  For example…. hmm..okay.  So say….I’m working my day job, (not the one Im in love with obviously).  Its at a cafe, I’m constantly feeling the emotions of everyone around me.  I have a running list in my head of things I need to do.  I am paying attention to what I’m doing, what my coworker is doing. If theyre okay, how they feel.  Plus any amount of worrying thoughts (i’m not perfect at always being mindful.), I get physical pain as I’m waiting for a surgery, if I’m overtired, hungry, have to pee,  maybe I just had a really triggering text convo where my friend says “jesus, why do you have to be so sensitive”.  Thats a lot, sometimes when i’m at this stage its like a kettle whistling, so much damn pressure, the slightest thing could make me so frustrated.  Sometimes I just shut down.  Once I’m there there is not much I can do if i’m out.  If i’m home I can watch funny videos, eat, go for a walk. I can use all the coping skills.  It doesn’t necessarily feel bad once I’ve sort of….slipped off or whatever clever way you want to say this.  I just dont feel connected, I dont feel here, I dont feel me, I dont feel at all.

Thanks for this.  Keep checking back, I’ll keep posting.
Over and out,
Borderline Babe.

The day it broke

I’m sad.  A part of me deep down, the little kid part maybe, is really. Damn. Sad. Sad that she never got to just be herself, to feel loved, to feel okay being my size, being myself. Sad that she felt like she never had a hand to hold, sad that Ive been on this healing journey, mostly alone.  I do have a few good friends, don’t get me wrong, but friendships tend not to last all that long for me.  Whether it be me pushing them away, or picking the wrong kind of people to trust.  Ive been on a healing path for…oh a long damn time now, and there have been people along the way that have stayed, who loved me for me, who supported and helped.  But here’s the thing about borderline, for me. When you feel down, its real low bottom of the world level of down.  Below the surface of the ocean, so low its dark.  You can’t breathe, see, feel anything but the fact that you’re drowning.  You can’t remember what it feels like to be able to swim,  what the sun feels like, how it felt to be able to breathe, and  its really REALLY difficult to remember that you’re not alone.   See, on my resume, under the portion labeled skills, is this really practiced ability of worrying.  Not the level of worrying that a regular person may have, but a level so deep that it gets in the way of your life.  I worry being around people, I worry to post this blog, I worry about so much stuff, that I might not usually, when I’m swimming.  When I’m low, my brain can find a thousand reasons why people in my life don’t love me.  A million reasons they’d be better off without me, a million reasons why they fake it.  This makes it hard for me to open up, it makes it hard for me to trust that people wont leave, it makes it hard for me not to feel alone.  (Im really breaking it down, there’s a lot more to this.)
Let me take you back to why, for those of you who still trying to wrap your head around this, this part is the “fear of abandonment” symptom of BPD:

When I was a kid, a lot of people died.  Starting with my dad when I was three, and kept on happening until 13 people died in the ten years following.  I’m not ready to be open about some of the details here, some of the other circumstances around growing up, because that fear still eats at me.  What I will tell you, is that I lived with my grandmother, and lovely and amazing as she was, she was also broken.  She had been broken and stepped on more times than I ever knew, a level of pain I could probably never understand fully, but she had a family to raise, kids to feed, and never had the opportunity to heal herself.    So, unfortunately, her pain came out at the people who were closest to her, carrying down the family curses, the pain given to her by her parents, so on.  I forgive her for everything she did, I’m still mad sometimes, and I’m still not okay with it, but after a lot of work, I’ve moved past it.  I realize I’m rambling because I’m nervous to tell you this next part but I’m going to take a deep breath and jump in.
She started making comments about my weight when I was a little kid, around four? Five? I don’t remember any of it, most of my memories are gone.   I do remember one day being so proud of picking my own outfit (she dressed me for a long time), and she looked at me and said “you have to change you look too fat in that.”  I was nine.  Already my worth, how people thought of me, if people would like me, was directly attached to my weight, my looks.   I would also come home from being at a friends house and she would tell me, for a long long rant, all of the reasons this person was only using me.  All the reasons that I shouldn’t trust them, all the reasons they’re keeping me around to use me, to make themselves feel better, appear better, make themselves appear more beautiful and skinny to have me hanging around them.   I don’t know then this started, it was always in hushed tones by the fireplace when no one was around, and she’d probably had a few drinks.  Again, most of the things she said I don’t remember, accept for a few occasions that I remember very vividly, but I remember it was normal, so normal I believed her.  I didn’t think I was worth anyone’s time.

So there you go, if you know me, or you’re part of my family, or even a stranger and this is triggering, I apologize, none of this was meant to cause anyone else any pain.

Given all of this, I have done a lot of work to heal this.  I’m definitely not perfect, it comes in waves.  But, yoga has helped me to no end.  It helps me everyday to move that sense of self worth from external, to internal.  To help me be okay being me (this is still a mountain I’m climbing), it helps me stay more mindful, trying to let go of all of that worry.  It has helped for me to try and understand that people have their own shit, and a lot of the time, are mostly thinking about that, not every minute detail of things I may have screwed up.  It helps to know that the real friends will still be there when you remember how to swim, and though I may not be good at asking for help, the real friends will be there when I do, some way or another.  It helps knowing that the drowning is only temporary, and wont last forever.  It helps to do things that I like that I find distracting. Animal videos, cute, funny youtube videos help.  Reading stories, reading books, watching stupid tv, eating chocolate, drinking tea, playing piano, singing, and getting on my mat.  Getting outside by the water, getting outside near trees or animals.

There we go, day 2 of blog.  I will warn you that I’m probably not going to be great at posting everyday, but since it’s a new thing,I seem to have a lot to say.  Thanks for reading.  Thanks for all the love that you’ve been sending, and blowing me away with.

Love you all,
Borderline Babe.

Please Still Love me

Hello world,
Welcome to my blog where I am going to just tell it as it is, I’ll touch on weight issues, BPD, who knows what else, lets see what comes up shall we?  I really want to open up about what its like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder because there seems to be this idea that people with BPD are violent, selfish, villains. Well, some might be, in the same way some people without BPD might be.  So….here we go, I’m just going to go straight to pouring my heart all over this damn keyboard, and see what comes out.  Judge me all you want, agree, disagree, but know that everything I say is truthful to my experience,  my view, my feelings.  (brutally honest). Maybe some of it will hurt to read, maybe some will make you think “oh no dont think that!”  Well, I do, you might too.  And thats okay.  Thinking it, and being open about it is the first step in being able to heal it.  So, y’know, deal.  Also there will be swearing, knowing me.

I got rejected today…and the first thing I thought was “its because of my size”.  If only I was skinny, people could look past my crazy, broken self, and still love me; but instead Im a lose lose situation.    Im trying to work on intuitive eating, on being okay with my body.  And I’m at the stage where all these beliefs connected with weight are screaming all the reasons I need to stop eating again.  (This part will continue in posts to come, but im going to go off on a tangent here)

Up until recently, some the people that were close to me, people I thought were my friends, were people that made me feel crazy.  People who I would apologize to for breathing, that I would feel I inconvenience just by existing, wanting them to like me, and asking for their attention, asking for their help.  They would constantly say things like “You take everything so personally” “Calm down, why do you always overreact” “stop being so sensitive”. (Pro-life tip: Don’t say shit like this to someone with BPD.  Maybe just dont say this at all? ) Last week I was in Guelph hanging out with some of my closest friends, and one of them said “Good friends will never let you apologize for yourself. “.  This seemed to be a reoccurring theme throughout the week with my friends. (Alright, alright, I get the message) And I thought of how every friend I felt supported and loved by, every friend who made me feel good when I was around them, they never let me apologize for who I am.  They never made me feel crazy, in fact they had loads of empathy for my situation, they could see why I acted the way I did, or felt the way I did.  To them it was always okay to be me, feel my feelings. I had this huge epiphany that all those people who made me feel like that? THOSE were the friends.  They were the people who I should be surrounding myself with.  That all the people who put me down, make me feel like a disease, they’re not deserving of even being in my life.  And yes I know the whole “Oh, but what if those people are having a hard time in their lives, they’re in pain, have sympathy”.  Bullshit. Total bullshit, it doesn’t matter what on earth is going on in your life, it doesn’t give you an excuse to hurt anyone, treat them less than human, use them, abuse them.  EVER.  As someone who has had a lot of emotional/verbal abuse experience, it took me a while to get to this point, but honestly, its one of the things that was so important in my growth.  Everyone fucks up sometimes, but you apologize, move on and try and do better.  Its when its recurring youve gotta smarten up, deal with your shit.  Being a decent human being, treating the people im your life with love and respect literally costs you nothing.   See, even though feelings may feel “bad”, feelings themselves are not bad.  They are so good; So good for you, if you don’t feel them, they’ll just come back in another way.  They will eat you alive, they will make themselves known.  Being sensitive is something Ive come to like about myself.  So much tells us that being sensitive is bad, and while its inconvenient at times, it’s a beautiful thing.  It allows me to connect better to those around me,  to feel intense amount of joy, intense amounts of pain, intense amount of happiness, sadness, goofiness..    It all balances out.

Alright, well, there we go.  Blog post one. Done.  and so so scary.  Do me a favour, and if you’re in my life and think maybe this is about you.  Know that this isn’t.  This is purely me letting out my story, my feelings, my view.  Think of me what you will, just be a decent human about it.

Over and out,
Borderline Babe.