I’m not really sure why I’m finding it so difficult to write at the moment.
I think it may be because I feel like I’m repeating myself.
For example I feel like I write pages and pages about the fact that I hate being alive because I don’t see the point in it, I no longer trust anyone because I always end up getting screwed over, I hate going out because people look at me strange or something bad happens, I feel empty but I don’t know why, I’m scared because the world is a scary place and bad things happen, no one will ever love me because I’m unloveable…….
And yet I’m still here.
Why? Because I have to be.
Sometimes there are moments of brightness. I went out at the weekend. It felt good to dance, but it did not feel good to be seen by everybody else. I made a difference at work today, but I come home exhausted with a head ache and no energy to do anything else.
Whatever I do, there is something holding me back.
Maybe I’ve just accepted that this is how it will be for me. It’s not fair. I’d like to go and live in my head, just the three of us. But the way it is, is not ideal. It’ll never be better. There will be good moments followed by excruciatingly bad moments. There will be flare ups of the BPD where every feeling feels like I’m being stabbed in the brain with needles, as well as moments of mania and depression. It’s not fair, but that’s how it is. There’s no point in complaining about it any more.
I need something else, but I don’t know what it is yet.
Love Sailor xox