I don’t know what happened.  Writers block or something.  But it always felt wrong here anyway.  I never quite got into being Bonjour Marin.  I am Hello Sailor, and since what happened there, and my trust was broken, I never quite got over it.  Now any domain I choose to hide in doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel like me.  Even now I am not me.  But I need to write, so I need to try.

It is true that I am scared of people knowing the real me.  The real me is a broken, distorted person, covered over by the façade of a Sailor, even in real life, although she has different names.  Sometimes her and I and all the others merge into one. I am getting used to this mingle of managing all of the different personalities, but again I’m afraid that letting them all be who they are means I am not normal.  I don’t aspire to be normal, I just want to be treated that way, no better, no worse than anyone else.

There are so many words in my brain, but I try to be mindful and “in the moment”, as I was taught by various therapists.  If I’m in the moment and the moment is bad, I will not always be in the moment. I believed the fact that I was not in the moment any more meant it did not matter, but I think it was wrong.  Everything I was taught in therapy I probably perceived as something else because of my broken borderline brain.  When the moment has passed there are shadows of feelings that need to be dealt with.  I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about them or wait for them to fade.  I no longer have therapy.  I have no one to ask.

I am lonely without you, but my broken brain can only deal with the mundane task of running day-to-day tasks at the moment. After all, I am trying to live in my moment, even if my moment lingers and I can’t decide what to do with it.

I don’t know if I’m back forever or just for this day.  Perhaps I’ll ease myself in slowly, because this still doesn’t seem right.

Posted in Borderline, General Thoughts, Mental Health | Tagged , | 8 Comments

A Thousand Times Already

Fi’s birthday is coming up.

Two years ago I went on a date with someone really special.  It got messed up because he couldn’t be honest.  Occasionally he pops into my brain and I miss what we had, even if what we had was nothing and I was wasting my time breaking my heart.

Miss You

Then comes the memories of always being betrayed. Even when I was young I couldn’t keep friends, I guess because my emotions were too reactive, or something.

What Asshole did, everything he promised me and the fact that he took away more than you or he will ever know.  What that Girl, my best friend, did and the whole “you’re faking your mental illness” situation, turned it around on me and accusing me of bullying her (I hasten to add that I did not bully anyone).

It all reminds me of the neglect and betrayal.  One of those downward spirals, where the more you think, the deeper you go and the harder it is to get back up.

News

It’s probably only me who sees it this way.

Anyone else involved in the memories probably sees it as their innocent actions resulting in my emotional outbursts of ginormous proportions, because that is just how Sailor is.    Emotionally reactive.  Intensely unstable.  Borderline.

quote | Tumblr | via Facebook

My outbursts were always “how can I go on living like this, if people keep doing this to me?”.

So much emotional pain.  If hearts could actually break, I’m sure mine did a thousand times already.

I honestly don’t know how I did it.  How I’m still here.

I am more careful now.  I keep a distance, if I keep people far enough away, I can’t get hurt.

Life seems smaller with fewer people, but safe.

hekootymsoul | via Tumblr

I’m better off in friendships with birds and bees and dogs and unicorns.  I can do that.

I doubt that I will ever not feel betrayed by all these things that happened.  And I doubt I will ever understand why it happened. People do things I suppose.  They do what feels right for them.

For now, we will continue living in caution.  For now I need the ocean and the few of you I trust.

(5) - Phrases | via Facebook

Love Sailor xox

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Dislike

I hate that I want everyone to like me.

My mind is so confusing I don’t think I can begin to explain this one, although I’m sure there are other people who feel the same way.

I’m aware that personality clashes mean that not everyone is liked or likable.

Sometimes, with the BPD, I feel like I don’t have a personality, even though I’m sure I have one.  I can be defined by the thing I like, the people I interact with, my life experiences, my dislikes.  Yet sometimes I still feel the big fat empty lack of personality.

Sometimes, with the BPD, I soak up other people’s personalities.  I don’t mean to, but when you aren’t feeling yourself it is easy to be a social butterfly when you absorb other people like a sponge.  I try to be mindful.  I try to accept that my feelings of lack of personality make me want to consume other peoples.  I try to be aware that I am my own person and I can know what I like and dislike.

I hate that sometimes, because I want to be liked and accepted, I pretend to like things I don’t. I know I’m doing it.  I have no excuse.  Now I know I do it, I do it a lot less, but I still feel guilty about it because I don’t want to be a liar and then my brain won’t shut up.

I also sometimes say things other people want to hear, just to make them happy, so they don’t feel bad. Not major lies, but things like “Yes, your dress looks lovely,” when I’m asked, even if it is bloody horrible.  If someone said I looked horrible I’d be broken.  So I don’t say it.  Maybe I don’t believe people when they give me compliments because I lie and I’m afraid they will lie.

I hate that I want to be liked and accepted, even by the people I don’t necessarily like, but it’s not as simple as that.

There are people who I genuinely, genuinely like.  I can be honest with them and I trust them and I don’t try to be them, because they know the real me.

There are people I dislike, just because they seem to have characteristics that seem negative, for example they bully or belittle, they are selfish, cruel or egotistical, things I find repulsive in a human, even though I can understand why these personality traits may have arisen.  I can think of a few names that I won’t mention here because it is irrelevant. But when I spend time with them, I find I like them more, even though I know I don’t like them, and I still want to be liked by them.

Again, I over think things.

I don’t want to be disliked, but it’s thoughts like this that make me worry that I am secretly unlikable, and eventually people will find out that I don’t have a personality, sometimes I lie to certain people about things so they will like me, and then they won’t like me, so I might as well go and hide somewhere so no one can know me.

Love Sailor xox

Posted in Borderline | Tagged , , | 17 Comments

Tea, Anyone?

***Trigger Warning***

I had a psychotherapy session yesterday.  I didn’t start off in the best of moods.

The day before (Monday), I had an increasingly rare panic attack at work.  I say increasingly rare, because although I’m an anxious person, constantly feeling on the edge of an anxiety attack, they don’t often spill over.  But when they do spill over….. they are epic.

I went home from work feigning a stomach bug.  I felt rather guilty, I hardly ever go home from work sick, but this panic attack made me feel ill, and I knew I’d have to go home and crash out after my adrenaline levels plummeted (and I did – I slept for two hours).

I know what cause the anxiety attack, but I don’t think that’s the point of this. The point is after the panic attack, using up all my adrenaline and feeling exhausted made me extremely grumpy and “there is no point to anything, I wish I was dead”.

My brain was acting up.  It was saying some awful things.  My brain (I don’t know who it is in there, I think Charlotte when she gets a bit angsty) finishes sentences with “and then we’ll kill ourselves” or “they’re coming to get us and then they’re going to kill us”.  For example my brain thinks ” I’m thirsty, I’d better go and make a cup of tea,” then out of nowhere “and then we’ll kill ourselves” gets added to the end of the sentence.  If I wanted to kill myself my priority wouldn’t be to have a cup of tea first. I hate the pre occupation my (our?) brain has with death sometimes.

But the annoying thing is, the begining of my psychotherapy session started with the normal question of “How are you feeling?”, and my reply was “I kind of don’t see the point in anything, I don’t want to be alive any more”. Throught the progress of talking for an hour about life, the universe and everything I came to the conclusion that “Everything matters too much, it hurts, I don’t want to be alive any more“.

So that’s it.  Those are the two extremes. My answer to everything is death.  So I will sit here in limbo for a few days until I find something new to obsess over and death is no longer the answer or the question.

And the thing that is more annoying that the answer to everything being death? I don’t have another psychotherapy session until the middle of September.

Love Sailor xox

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A Crazy Update

It’s been a while.  It all looks a bit different.  I thought it was about time I dipped my toe back in.

I’m still me, and by that I mean I’m still crazy.  There are still triggers and flashbacks, there are arguments in my brain, voices telling me to kill myself, moments where this all doesn’t seem real, moments where nothing matters at all and moments of everything matters so much it hurts.  This is me, this is my normal.  I’m coming to terms with it, still. It’s a work in progress. But before I launch into all that crazy, I should probably do an update, because it’s been a while.

University is almost at the end.  Lessons have finished, all essays are handed in, now I just have to pass the written and practical exams.  This is easier said than done.  Balancing learning and crazy is not always easy, as depending on the type of crazy i.e. whether it is functional crazy or not, can never be estimated.  I’m not sure how I managed to do a whole Post Graduate Diploma with Borderline Personality Disorder (and all the crap thats gone with it), but I did it. There are so many times I almost quit, because it seemed more trouble than it was worth, what with balancing the crazies up at the same time, but I’m glad I did it.  In some ways I think it kept me alive in the really bad moments, because I didn’t want to leave my work unfinished.

I think now I need a new goal to work on.  Whether it’s painting or learning something new, or both, I don’t know yet, I just need something to aim towards.  I think this always helps, it gives me something relatively healthy to obsess over.

My new job is not going too bad.  I suppose when you work in a place which is large enough and there are lots of people there are personality clashes.  Some people are nice, some I don’t get, some I don’t trust and some are on my wavelength. I try to stay out of all of the work politics stuff.  I don’t want to over-complicate things.  If there is an argument or disagreement I don’t get involved, because I can’t get involved without it adversely affecting my mental health.  I worry that sometimes I am distant from the rest of the group, but when it comes to the nursing, I am hardly distant at all (I can’t say never since I still have my “run away and hide”, usually accomapanied by “clean ALL the things!” days) and we all work as a team so it doesn’t really matter.

Compared to my last job, I feel more relaxed here because there is no constant bullying, arguments and I actually feel valued.

There are people from my old life who I miss every day, Jenny is one, C is another (although I try not to think about him or I get triggered), some I don’t miss at all (my old Head Nurse who was the bully) and some I miss, even though I can see how screwed up everything was (W and Helenna, mostly).  There are some I’m deathly confused about, so instead of face up to it, I try to bury it all deep, deep down in the hope that one day they will sort themselves out (or manifest themselves into new and improved mental illnesses).

I’m lucky that Jenny is still a constant in my life, as well as Alex, when he is in the country. Everyone else just leaves eventually. I also feel lucky that I have my mental friends forever I made here in blogland.  I count you all as a true, constant friends now I now you personally and you have helped me over the past few months!

Therapy is a bit balls. Since CBT/DBT finished at the beginning of the year I have psychotherapy once every six weeks.  It helps, it’s better than nothing, but I still think I could’ve done with a bit longer on the CBT front.  I felt like CBT was more helpful that psychotherapy because it was more structured and weekly. Psychotherapy seems to me too much like just talking about the things that pop into your brain, during the sessions that you hardly ever get, and feels like it doesn’t really solve anything.

Since my Nan died at the end of last year my brother has moved out. It’s a bit weird that he has moved into her house, I haven’t been there since she died because, I don’t know, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s her house, it always will be.  I don’t like the idea of him moving her stuff out and replacing it with his own.  But it’s not like she needs any of it. It’s quieter at home without him, but I like it.  I like quiet.

The others are still here, but it’s mostly me at the front.  I don’t mind this because with the CBT we did have we learnt to work and function a bit better as a whole person rather than parts.

I have not been on any more dates.  My life plan now is to grow old, live on a beach and be a mad cat/dog/rabbit/everything else lady.

I have not had a holiday in eight months and I’ve only had one hair cut.  My car has broken down zero times, but someone decided to park in the boot, so now it has a massive dent in it.

I still have four rabbits and my parents won’t let me have a dog.  I’m scared I’m going to live with my parents forever.

Everything else is still pretty much the same. I’m still a sailor, nurse, painter, writer, pirate, mermaid.  I go mental every so often so I have no idea what I’m thinking about or who is even doing the thinking. I somehow get up to go to work everyday, and everyday I fall back into bed wondering how I made it through yet another day.  I still hope that one day it will feel better.

Love Sailor xox

Posted in Art, Borderline, Mental Health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

In My Room

Let me take you to a place that I know.  It’s a place where I can just be, a blank canvas where my mind rests, where I can reach out to you in the only way I know how.

There is a room, it’s not very big, but it’s big enough that when the door is shut and locked you don’t feel claustrophobic.

The white door is locked from the inside.  The paint has aged and is flakey, it could have been duck egg blue at some point.  The handle and locking mechanism are ornate brass, bright, shiny and smooth on the parts that are handled the most but tarnished on the rest of it. I don’t know where the key is to get out.  It’s OK though because I have no intention of removing myself from this room any time soon.  And even if I want to remove myself, all trace of the room magically fades away.

The walls are white. I’m not sure if they are cracked or faded because I hardly ever take my eyes of the door.

There is a window. Outside the sky is always blue. Sometimes there are white fluffy clouds, but they are never grey and the sky is never completely overcast. Trees frame the window, when I glance over I can see the green leaves dancing in the breeze. I don’t think the room is on the ground floor because all I can see is trees and sky.

The floor is definitely faded.  I can see when I am laying on it. There are wooden floor boards, slightly uneven, like you get in old English cottages.  They creak when you walk across them, not that I do much walking.  I imagine that when I cry my tears seep through the cracks..

Despite there being a bed in the room, a wrought iron bed with simple sheets, I lay on the cool floor facing the door which is an arm’s length away.  I can just about see under the door, but it doesn’t look like anything, just darkness.

I imagine you in the adjoining room, laying like me – on the floor, an arms reach from the door.

You can poke your fingers though the crack under the door, and I can do the same.  It’s to let each other know we are still there.  We can’t hear each other  because neither of us have the strength to talk in words.  We can’t see each other, apart from our finger tips, but it is somehow comforting, especially when you reach out far enough and our fingertips touch momentarily.

door

In two locked rooms it feels so far away from each other, much like reality. But when our fingertips touch all distance is lost and it feels like you are really here with me in my room.

Love Sailor xox

P.S I’ll be back soon, studying is almost over.

Posted in Art, Borderline, General Thoughts, Mental Health | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Hello Sailor Swallow – Free To Good Home

Blah, my birthday is coming up soon.  I did the whole explanation last year of why I don’t get birthdays (actually, checking back on my whole “Hello Sailor Contemplates Birthdays” post, it was exactly a year ago today I wrote it – I like coincidences).

My birthday last year kind of sucked balls. This year is my thirtieth and I’m still contemplating whether or not to participate this year.  I’ve been told if I don’t celebrate it, I’ll regret it, but knowing me I’ll probably regret it anyway because birthdays are just a bit pants really.

Anywho a while ago I decided to give away one of my paintings for my birthday.  I don’t know why, maybe the deed of doing something for someone else on what I consider the most selfish day of the year makes me feel less spoilt, or something.  Who knows.  It makes sense in my brain.

Originally I decided I would give away one on my Facebook page if I reached 100 followers before July 7th, but actually it doesn’t really matter how many likes I have, I’d rather people like it because they like it, not because they are getting something out of it. And I want to extend the love to my WordPress family, because without you I’d be nothing anyway, plus I know many of you aren’t on Facebook (or just enjoy hiding) and I want you to be included.

So this is what I’m giving away, one of my swallows -

hello sailor original swallow

He doesn’t have a name yet, but he is a he. I guess you can name him when you get him, whoever you are.

He’s hand draw and painted in watercolour and ink on A4 watercolour paper.

Here is how I’m going to do it -

Leave a message here on BonjourMarin, or Facebook, saying you want to enter, I’ll put your name on the list, on my birthday I’ll put everyone’s names in a hat, draw one out and that will be the winner.  I’ll even pay postage.

There can only be one entry per person, because I want it to be as fair as possible.

There is also a second prize, but this is not for an original, this is for four prints of my designs -

cards

These are the original watercolour paintings I had scaled down and printed on to cards.

They are printed onto A6 (105mmx148mm) high quality thick 350gsm satin coated card. Each card is blank inside, so it can be sent with a personalised message (or you could just frame it and hang it on you wall as a piece of art!) and hand folded.

The catch? Your present to me.  Either dress yourself up/dress your pet up as a sailor or pirate OR change your profile picture on Facebook to a Hello Sailor painting for the day, post a message so I can see you and then I will choose my favourite, so make it awesome!

I’ll post again nearer the time reminding everyone, but this is what I want most for my birthday – Participation and people dressed as sailors.

If you decide to enter – Good luck!

Love Sailor xox

Posted in Art, General Thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments