I hate BPD because…I want a tattoo.
I don’t know how many times I’ve said that and my body is still ink-less. In addition to a tattoo, I want to replace my wardrobe with clothes that actually feel like “me” right now (whatever or whoever that is). I hate my closet right now because I feel barely any of my clothes actually reveal my true nature: rebellious, edgy, non-conforming.
Again, I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through this in my life. I’ve changed my style so many times. Not in an obvious way, though. This time around, I want radical change. I spent almost $300 in online shopping this week alone (remember: I’m a student, so it comes from my savings account…meaning I’m spending money I shouldn’t be spending).
And I want to keep shopping and shopping, and buying and buying. I have 144 items in my wishlist in a certain clothing site I visit literally every day (down from 165 earlier today). I believe I have a problem with impulse shopping. Whenever my emotions get difficult, one of my many coping mechanisms (albeit not the best one) is online shopping. It’s not such a big problem right now because I obviously don’t make any money, but I don’t know how the hell I’m going to deal with this when I’m making my own cash.
I don’t know myself well; I don’t know my exact identity….so online shopping gives me the instant gratification my emotionally overwhelmed mind seeks. I fool myself into thinking I’m buying things that are more “me” than what I currently own.
I hate BPD because…I want to see more bones. Being so self-destructive I always think I want to be thinner, thinner, thinner, emaciated…dead. I feel like that right now. I look at myself in the mirror and I think: A bone peeking here, a bone peeking there….but it’s still not enough.
But I’m not controlling my food much right now. Not since September. Ironically, it would seem I haven’t gained weight. But the fear of getting fat, of looking fat, of being fat….is always there. The thoughts are always there. You don’t have to be actively engaging in eating disordered behaviors for your eating disordered thoughts to torment you. However, I feel I’m soon to engage in behaviors again. It’s unfortunate, but after having mental illness for a while you become so tuned into yourself that you just know when things are going to get shitty again.
(Plus, the last months of the year -October thru December, and especially NOVEMBER- are my peak emotional down-time. More on that in another post.)
I hate BPD because…I get attached to mother figures. Or at least women who for one reason or another I feel a certain bond with. The reasons can range from something as mundane as I think I physically look a bit like this mother-figure to She gives me more attention than my actual mom.
I went to dance class today. Before my class, there’s an intermediate level class held in the same studio. Every time the students come out my heart skips a beat. Why? Because I hope and cross my fingers that the teacher who gives that class will notice me when she comes out of the studio. See, this specific teacher gave me dance classes when I was a kid. I became attached to her, and I was her best student. I thought of her as a mother figure. I constantly wished she was my real mom. Even after quitting dance back then, I bumped into her a few times and she still remembered me. Recently, she moved back to the city and is giving class at the company where I take classes. The first time I saw her walk by me I had so many emotions bursting through my chest and my brain….it was overwhelming.
Maybe she remembers me. Maybe she doesn’t. I don’t know. But my point is that in my 20s, I still have the same feelings. I haven’t gotten over this. Every time I see her I wish she was my real mom. And it makes me feel so horribly guilty. I feel like the worst daughter ever.
I hate BPD because….when R canceled last week’s appointment I had two bad days in a row and I’m still harboring slightly negative feelings toward her. When I was with M, near the end, I got pretty good at managing the emotions that were roused by canceled appointments (the feelings of abandonment and all that jazz). However, I know I’ve taken a few steps back in my road of progress since I started seeing R. The stress of building this new relationship has me acting out again.
I hate BPD because…R’s canceling an appointment wouldn’t have been as bad if I she didn’t remind me so much of the mother-figures I’ve gotten attached to in the past. She looks a bit like the dance teacher I mentioned previously and has a quiet demeanor to which I naturally gravitate. That constant reminder of my “mommy issues” coupled with a canceled appointment and all the feelings that involves does not make for a good combination.
I hate BPD because…instead of loving myself I hate myself by default. Instead of learning to love myself, I learned to hate myself.
But most of all, I hate how I don’t really hate BPD…because it has given me the chance and drive to be a better version of myself. I shake hands with my mental illness (or illnesses, or whatever). We agree to disagree.
I have a lot in my head these days. Too much in my head. It’s getting to be too much. A second hospitalization has crossed my mind a few times. But NO, it will not happen. I haven’t gotten to that point (and hopefully I won’t).