I’m sorry I suck so much at everything at the moment. Yes, it matters. I miss every one of you, but I’m finding it difficult to juggle blogging and working and painting and being mental.
In my head there is a hope. Its small, most of the time I imagine it like a pearl, smooth surfaced, shining brightly, buried in the depths of the convoluted gyrus and suculus of my brain. Only my brain isn’t pink, its shriveled and brown like a walnut, where all of the rest of the hope has worn out and the dark thoughts haunting it have atrophied it like a dead toad on a hot day.
It’s the pearl of hope that keeps me going.
I am lonely, even more lonely than before. All of it is my fault, because I decided to keep myself safe.
This time last year, I was barely managing to get out of bed. I had plenty of friends, but they tried to understand but they didn’t. I got fed up of explaining and justifying my actions. Shouldn’t I be accepted for the way I am, despite my flaws? One by one, as I generally like to complain, I lost them. Perhaps it was safer for them to keep away from me? I know it is safer for me to keep them away from me. I’ve given up trying. I’m sure you understand, thousends wouldn’t.
This year I have no friends, merely acquaintances. I don’t want people to get too close. If they get too close I can hurt them and they will hurt me. Besides, BPD makes it complicated because one day I love a certain person, next day I can’t imagine why I ever even liked them. Sad but true, and I know that I’m doing it, but I can’t stop because without these black and white opinions I have fuck all to go on and even more confusion as I try to figure it out.
I have a new job and I get out of bed because I have to, not because I want to, most days. Therapy has been reduced from once a week, to once every four weeks. I’m still on the same concoction of medications.
The pearl of hope is that things will change.
This isn’t where I am supposed to be. I’m sure of it. This is not how it was planned. This is not how it was meant to be.
My mum always said you can achieve anything you put your mind to. For the most part it is true, but how ever hard I think about it I will never grow wings and fly, I will never grow a tail to swim, so that is a lie.
My mum also says that everything happens for a reason. As I’ve grown older, I’ve just grown more cynical in that now I think this is what optimistic people say to justify the bad things that happen in life.
Some people say if you want something you have to go out and get it. This might have been true if we were cavemen (women) and decided that we were going to start a fire, but now it seems you must have the means to the end.
I always wanted to punch the people who said “life is what you make of it” in the head. My keyworker in hospital, Alex, would always say this, when I was in my deepest depression. I can’t imagine this would help any depressed person, let alone a 14-year-old who already thought her life is over.
I don’t know what I believe any more.
Some days I want to go out and change the world because sometimes I’m capable and it feels like that is the only way things will get done. Other days I get out of bed, go to work, come home, go back to bed because it doesn’t seem worth changing. Sometimes the glimmer in the pearl is the size of a bowling ball, some days it is a pea.
I wish there was a consistency.
I hope one day, if I wait long enough, enough time will pass and everything will just click into place. It feels like I’ve been waiting long enough already.
Love Sailor xox
“Errors like straws upon the surface flow: Who would search for pearls must dive
below” – John Dryden