Its been one year!!

I never know what to say first on these. Do I say hi? Do I just dive right in? Do I ease my way in like its an imaginary conversation? Who the hell knows.
Well friends, it has officially been a year since I’ve had this domain name, and I’m happy to say you’re stuck with me another year, because I just re-purchased it. So tough luck for you if you’re a hater I guess? I think last year I nearly broke even in terms of the things I have to pay for behind the scenes for the blog, so I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support. I just want to re-touch on why I started this blog in the first place, what drove me to write and where I’ve come with it.
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Bi-products of trauma.

Alright, these past few weeks have been kind of insane, but I don’t know that I’m ready to talk about it yet.  I am going to tell you that I’m going to be in a Fashion Show for the first time tomorrow, one that promotes body positivity, and is a ‘fuck you’ to diet culture, anxiety, depression and I’m so excited to be a part of it.  If you’re in Kingston message me for details.    So what I’m going to talk about (rant on about) today is the residual effects of trauma and emotional abuse.  Sometimes we don’t think much about the littler things that might come up as a result, and they can feel pretty…scary, and confusing.  I often felt like there was something really wrong with me because of them, as if they are flaws.  These are by no means all of them, just a few that have reeked havoc in my life. Continue reading “Bi-products of trauma.”

Who I am(?)

For as long as I can remember, I have had no idea who I am, and I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin.  My style has changed for as long as remember, being influenced by those who I spend the most time with, or didn’t feel as good as.   I have avoided clothes that I liked, because I didn’t that I was good enough to wear them.  In my darker anorexic days I would wear lots of layers of clothes to hide myself, but even recently I would wear clothes that are loose, or that I could just disappear in, so that no one would notice me.  If I hung around someone more materialistic I would do my makeup even when I didn’t want to, I would wear clothes they would wear.  When I got into yoga I wore only ‘yogi’ or hippie ish clothes.  There is nothing at all wrong with doing those things, but it just didn’t feel like me all the time.  Its more than just clothes too, my whole sense of self changes, down to my hobbies.   If you looked at my bedroom you’d see evidence of so many different interests, all over the map, some of which I actively am interested in, others that I haven’t really touched lately, its phase ran out.    This ended up making me feel really unsure of myself, no sense of self is a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder, we are often referred to as chamillions, and it can be really frustrating, and disheartening because you have this feeling like you’re….unbalanced or without roots.  I’m not really sure how to describe the feeling honestly.  I never really figured out who I was, what style I was, what I valued, what I wanted to spend my time doing.  Partially because my grandmother picked out my clothes until I was way too old, but also because I never really felt safe to take time to figure out who ‘me’ was.  Turns out, standing up to the emotional/psychological abuse was what I needed to start to create my own ‘safe space’ and start to allow myself to find out. Continue reading “Who I am(?)”

To Answer Your Questions

So last week I asked if you had any questions about Borderline Personality Disorder, today I will answer them to the best of my abilities.   Im going to try and do this kind of post every so often, sk if you ever do have questions, ask away!  This took a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I do apologize for that.  I have been working about 50+ hours a week, I had a cold, and have trouble sleeping so I kept coming home from work and just slept/was lazy.  As some of you know, I’ve also been going through a rough patch, which youre welcome to ask about, but for now I am not going to post about it.  Im currently posting using my phone, sitting by the water (my favourite place) and I’m ready and excited to answer your questions.

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Too Damn Much

Today was one of those damn days: everything is harder to accomplish, your body hurts, you want to cry for no (or every) reason, and every little thing goes wrong. For some kind of inexplicable reason.  Just too damn much to carry around with you, and you just end up snapping, crying, getting hysterical, or somehow keeping it together until you can hide in your bed with a glass of wine, and a to do list you’re choosing to ignore.

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BPD, friends, and never feeling good enough

Friends are hard.  So painfully raw, vulnerable, and they have the power to trigger so many emotional ghosts, leaving you(me, in this case) like Im never good enough.   And you know what? My heart hurts.  I feel like its sinking down, drowning, like its being crushed into a million pieces. I cant shake it, I can’t escape it.  I wake up most of the time with it like painful alarm holding me down to the bed.  Because it hurts to move.
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