Disenchantment

This is where broken people are.
This is where they wipe their tears away
And put on a new face;
A shiny, glossy mask.
They meet other
Shiny, glossy people and exchange superficial pleasantries.

This is for the people afraid of being alone;
Afraid of being marooned –
Forever controlled
By a willfully blind puppet master.
They look for another,
Fooling themselves,
Convincing themselves that they are the ones in control.
This is where the hopeful people are.

This is where the lost people are.
Passing through crowds of people,
But not really seeing a single face.
Trying to both remember and forget,
Wishing they knew now only what they knew then.
Searching for a shard of resemblance
Of a happier time.

This is where she shall drift,
Disappointed, desolate, 
Disenchanted.

Worthy

Know your worth.
Know that you, just as everyone else, is worthy of love.
Don’t let yourself stay with someone who wants to be with another
When all you want is to be wanted by someone who only wants you.
When she leaves, and you remain as his remaining crutch,
The only shoulder to cry on
You will always be wondering
What if she stayed?

Go ahead and cover the walls of your glass room with pictures of a fantasy.
Paint the insides of your eyelids with what you want to see
And tell yourself that you’re fine. That this is what you wanted.
Look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re in control
And then force yourself to feel what you think you should feel.
Live in your false comfort.

Dream, imagine, and hope all you want
But know it does not have to be this way. 

Not as long as you believe you are worthy. 

Skin hunger 

She lived in a bubble. She was hesitant around strangers and was slow to open up. But when she did open up, she was loving, bright, and affectionate.

Over time, through the people she encountered, and situations she experienced, she learned it was better to stay in a bubble. She kept people at a distance. Because, as she had learned, physical affection means you’re asking for more.

She would flinch when others would touch or hug her, friends and strangers alike. She always kept her distance while yearning for closeness. She was lonely when she was not alone. She was starved for affection, yet her fear and anxiety held her back.

Somehow she ended up in relationships with others who would not be affectionate. “I don’t like holding hands,” they would say. “I hate PDA,” even when it was an arm around the shoulder or a hand on the knee. So it became normal for her.

“Why are you so codependent? Why are you so clingy?” they would say. Even though she thought her requests were normal, they made her doubt herself. Her doubts turned into shame, and her shame manifested itself as bitterness, self hatred, and jealousy. She had accepted that it would always have to be this way.

Drama queen 

Addressed to my friends and family.

I feel worthless, hopeless, and small. I don’t want to tell you because you’re logical and you’ll ask why. Then when I tell you, I know you won’t understand. Or you’ll think, oh here we go again, when will she learn? 

I am too self aware for my own good – I know that logically the “reasons” I am upset make no sense. I know that. But here I am feeling empty and withdrawn, and I already feel like that. I need help with that feeling. I want to rant about the root of my problem and I want you to patiently tell me the logical way to think about it. Because I simply do not have the ability to think about it logically in this state.

I want you to validate me – tell me that it must be hard for me going through this even if you don’t understand why. That’s all I want. Even if you cannot fathom why anyone would ever be upset over what I am sad about, tell me you understand that it must be hard for me.

I am telling you that I am not sitting here crying for attention and drama. I am not being a drama queen. I don’t want to tell you about my problems and have you jump up and tell me you’ll fix it all, or you’ll beat up who hurt me, or you’ll find justice for me. I don’t want to be dependent on alcohol or cutting or sex or drugs. I want a friendly face, a coffee, dinner, ice cream, a hug. I want you to listen and help me dissolve the pain.

Thanks for reading.

Where I went wrong/ A girl on fire

Where I went wrong:

  1. I wasn’t open and honest because I was happy and didn’t want to risk losing anything. I knew there was a really good chance it would blow up in my face, but I opted to deal with the consequences later. I forgot that I don’t quietly implode. I’m a ticking time bomb and everyone around me is hit by the shrapnel. That’s really the main thing.

If Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)  was a person, I would say they are extremely clever and cunning. Really, everything just works out perfectly in their favor. (Note: I am not blaming my actions on BPD. They are still my actions. But my emotions and thought processes are due to some fucked up circuitry in my brain, and I still haven’t quite figured out how to handle them.)

I have real, valid, understandable worries and fears that are amplified beyond comprehension to others. Does anyone watch Community? There’s this one scene where Troy is brought into a secret initiation into Air Conditioning Repair school. The room includes ridiculous figures such as an astronaut cooking paninis in one corner and “black Hitler” in the other corner. This is to ensure the potential recruits don’t tell anyone about the school, and even if they did, it would be too ridiculous to believe anyway.

That’s what I feel happens to my emotions. At the seemingly smallest events, I react enormously, to the point where others think I am being childish or purposely difficult. And then the emotion dies and I’m 100% reasonable and calm. Absolutely ridiculous.

I have talked about stigma that we carry, including being ‘crazy’, ‘manipulative’, and abusive. I don’t intend to do so, but I do come across as being all those things. I hope you all don’t think that I think I’m a perfect shining example of recovery and strength. I certainly have moments of great improvement, but I’m far from perfect.

You say I’m self-centered, manipulative, controlling but I’m really not. Well, no, I suppose I technically am self-centered because I am so extremely preoccupied with my issues that I forget that people around me have problems too. Though, when we think of a self-centered person, we think of someone who doesn’t care about others and who thinks they are entitled to all your time and attention.

I hope you know in your heart that that is not me. I am not dramatically weeping and wondering why you aren’t paying attention to me like some diva. Rather, I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off because my kitchen spontaneously erupted in flames, but as I’m trying to put out the fire, my room erupts in flames, but then I realize I’ve actually been on fire the whole time.

This is why I believe it’s better to talk over the phone rather than texting: it is easy to detach yourself from the person on the other side of the screen, so their demeanor and intentions are all up for interpretation. I get the sense that you might think I’m sitting around pouting and rolling my eyes, when the reality is I’m in sheer panic mode. I am very worried about what you might say next.

It is not malicious and calculated. It is panicked and out-of-control. That doesn’t make it any more okay, I know that, but I think it’s good to understand the nature of the beast.

We can talk about mental illness and how tough it is for the people struggling, but that’s really not the whole picture. That really doesn’t fully capture the devastation that mental illness leaves in its path. I wrote a piece called Termites, in which I expressed my fear of spreading my “disease” around to my loved ones. Honestly, it is not a completely unfounded fear.

I am a girl on fire. I know that I burn everyone I come in contact with; some more severely than others. I cannot expect my loved ones to hurt just because I’m hurting. When the fire temporarily dies down, I’m left aching and raw, and as the smoke clears from my vision, I can see the damage I’ve caused. I’m sorry I burnt you, I really am. But please don’t forget that I was hurting too.

You might think I’m a manipulative, cruel, monster, but the reality is that I’m a good person who is struggling and in immense pain. The reality is I’m still hurting you, another genuinely good person, and pulling you down with me just because you cared enough to lend a helping hand. I get a sense of burning guilt and helplessness as I watch the situation unfold. I can’t ask you to stay with me or change in any way. In the end it is my struggle to deal with.

I am hurting and hurting others, but people still stick with me. This is a bittersweet realization. Thank you for burning a little bit with me. Thank you for telling me you need space. Thank you, and I’m also very sorry. This is advice I know you’d give me, so I’m going to give it back to you. Please don’t stress over me; first and foremost, take care of yourself.

We set the wrong course
and headed due North
That’s where we went wrong

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