Well, since I don’t want to be a complete party pooper, I’ll post some good news first. For some reason I forgot to post this back in September:
I PASSED STEP 2 CK!
And with a decently solid score if I may say so myself. Touché.
Now that I’ve given you the good news, I’ll give you the party-pooping part of this post: I had a nasty BPD flare-up this weekend.
And guess who it had to do with? You got that right! The Russian of course!
Second weekend in a row it happens, actually. And it was the same thing all over again: apparently he was spending the weekend with his parents (who live in a state nearby) and he barely texted or communicated at all. (Whether or not it’s true that he was with his parents, I’ll just have to believe him on that. Either way, we’re not yet at that stage where we’re totally exclusive so…*shrug*.) Of course, he only informed me of this after the fact…after all the borderline-ness just decided to come by and say “Hey dumbass, I’m still here” and create a messy goo in my head.
So, while The Russian was apparently back in his home city for the weekend, I was wringing my hands and going nuts at home. Abandonment. That pretty much sums it up. The abandonment I felt was so terrible, it just got the best of me. My thinking went literally from realistic to a complete gob of black/white extremes and freakish splitting. My head was filled with: Obviously he’s with someone else. Obviously he’s taken and you’re just the sloppy seconds…because you’re always the side-piece, and you always will be. It’s all you deserve because you’re a pile of shit. You’ve got a sign on your forehead that says ‘use and abuse me’, you idiot.
“You’re the sloppy seconds.” That phrase got stuck in my head the moment the Ex’s wife said it to me. And it’s been there for a few years now. Every time I like a guy it’s what pops automatically into my head. Sad, right? I’ve gotten better at silencing the voices of the Ex (and his wife) this year, but the thoughts are always exacerbated by dates, men, or crushes. See the connection?
So, this past weekend, the thoughts of self-harm and dying were at an all time high again. The negativity, the hatred toward myself, and even some symptoms of depression were there. I was angry at literally everyone. Any slight anger I had toward a certain person got inflated into this nasty monster of hate. I was genuinely and irrevocably pissed out of my damn mind at MM for making me feel abandoned with her lack of communication lately, at R and G for canceling appointments this month, at my two best med school friends for being so busy with residency and not having time for me, and at the Russian for just suddenly disappearing. I was kind of afraid of myself to be honest. I hadn’t felt that amount of pure anger in quite a while.
And here is where the embarrassing part comes along: it all went away in literally one second the moment I received a text from the Russian saying “baby”. That’s all it took. One word and one emoji later, it was as though nothing happened. A switch had gone on during the weekend and the moment the Russian reappeared the switch went back off. Granted, I was withholding my texting and calling as a test to see if he even remotely thought of me. And it took just one word on Sunday night to put the monster back to sleep.
I am so embarrassed. Why? Because I wasn’t able to calm the BPD down. And I’m afraid of the Russian ever finding out what truly goes on in my head. I’m afraid of him (or any other guy I might date, for that matter) finding out I’m not as calm and composed as I look and I have a dark past and present still going on in my head. I’m afraid of that scaring them away, making them think I’m just some “crazy chick”. It’s all funny in the movies and TV, but it’s not at all funny when you‘re the “crazy chick” in real life.
In summary: I’m afraid of ever having to tell a boyfriend/date/whatever, about my mental illness. I’m simply terrified of it. Will they take a step back in horror and run away for dear life? I hate having secrets, but the fear of abandonment is so strong.
I dropped hints here and there at the Russian back in September. I told him I was having nightmares and it was a long story and I was sorry after my tossing and turning one night didn’t let him sleep. He was worried, and said it was ok. But how am I ever going to bring myself to tell him that the nightmares I was having were of him turning into my abuser while he slept next to me?
How will I ever bring myself to tell him that I’ve had problems with mental illness? How will I ever bring myself to tell him that I have problems with chronic recurrent mental illness and that he might have to deal with that at some point if he so decides to pursue a relationship with me? How to tell him that it’s been drilled into your head that you’re a “piece of shit” and “abusable”? How to tell him he’ll have to deal with stuff like depression, suicide, anger, restricting food, purging, terrible self-image, loss of sex-drive, anxiety, fears of abandonment, and company…and that he can’t do much about it except be a source of support?
How do you tell a guy…that you’re incredibly imperfect?
I’m afraid of my mental illness eventually making me lose a guy who’s actually worth it.