Frustrated With Myself (Again)

Yesterday was a weird day.

It all started when my therapist sent me a message confirming our appointment for later that morning. I felt emotionally cut off from her. It had been too long between sessions. I thought to myself “I don’t need therapy (or her) anymore”, but another part still wanted her (and I know I will always want her, even when I don’t “need” her anymore). The part that was indifferent had a far more active role in my mind though.

It continued during the session. I could hear myself saying all these good and positive things, but I lacked emotion. I was fully present and attentive when my therapist was mentioning some stuff about her and answered the questions I asked her, but when it came to ME and MY stuff, I felt disconnected from my feelings. I felt like I was “on the surface” instead of “down deep”. I couldn’t connect to ME. There were a couple of moments where I got really angry at technology and felt I was going to throw something, but that’s it. No other emotions.

Then it was time for work. My final training shift. Sunday we skipped training as the manager wasn’t there. Walking into the store I felt tired and not too well. All I wanted to do was go back home and sleep (I woke up this morning with a cold/flu so that’s probably why I felt so crap last night). But being so new I didn’t want to take any chances. The store was way too noisy. There was too much stimulation around me, and I felt triggered. The lights were too bright. There were too many people. Too many voices. I felt myself starting to lose control, and I was about to go tell the manager that I’m quitting, but then someone close by dropped a book and I almost jumped out of my skin. That quickly zapped that thought out of my head. But I started feeling claustrophobic and anxiety ripped through me. I was trying to remember all the tools I have learned up until this point, but I just couldn’t focus. I hit a blank. I felt tears well up, and I walked to the back office, to the furthest corner I could find and tried to get the tears to just not come, but come, they did. But I managed to stop the majority of it. I felt so overwhelmed. I forced myself to stay busy with the new books that had come in that I saw lying on the table, and proceeded to pick them up one by one and read the back (just like my therapist had suggested in our session). My shift was starting in a few minutes so I wasn’t neglecting my job at least. I really didn’t want to go back out there. It felt like my inner child was kicking and screaming, begging me to stay where it was safe, but I told her it would be alright and went out anyway.

It was much the same. Too many people, which I find intimidating. The smallest noise (the sound of someone typing on the keyboard for example) made me want to yell “stop it, just stop it” and cover my ears. I was still so jumpy (yet anyone that knows me will tell you I’m always quick to startle anyway) and my senses were on extra high alert. I’m naturally sensitive to my external environment (even as a baby apparently), but most of the time I can deal with it. But in moments like these, I find it especially difficult. It’s times like this when even the texture of my clothing bothers me and I just want to rip it all off. I don’t know exactly what it is that sometimes takes this sensitivity up beyond what is even normal for me, all I know is that it happens.

At one point, I had to help a customer, with my manager standing there watching. I didn’t trust myself. I felt panic and anxiety rise up. I looked at my manager and I think she could see it, as she smiled and said “you can do it”. But I didn’t feel like I could. The pressure was just too much. I wanted to run out and not look back. But I forced a smile and greeted the customer, painfully aware that I was visibly shaking. I then suddenly took on “robot mode”, and can’t remember the rest of that interaction. It was as if I had just shut down. When I was “back” the first thing I remember is the manager telling me “good job”. I can only hope I was friendly with the customer and didn’t come across as a complete idiot. But the manager looked happy, so I guess it’s safe to say that I didn’t mess up.

I know I should be kind to myself. But how can I be when this shit happens? Just when I think I’ve taken 1 or 2 steps forward, it’s like I take 20 steps back. It’s frustrating.

I Am Borderline (Powerful Video)

I thought I was relatively comfortable saying I have Borderline Personality Disorder. But the truth is… I don’t yet think I am. I feel if I admit to it I will just be giving myself permission to continue to let the symptoms own me, so to speak. I’m afraid that if I admit it, I’ll be admitting to weakness. I feel ashamed. Would I feel ashamed if I had the flu? No, so why should this be any different? Voices from the past (and present) repeating over and over again that it’s all in the mind. Yes, it literally is. But that’s not how they mean it. It’s not just society. It’s that one person I wish could understand. The one person I wish would show compassion instead of making hurtful (and untrue) comments.

Why do I keep trying to reach out to someone who doesn’t know how to show emotion? Someone who thinks throwing money at me makes it all better. Someone who just keeps hurting me over and over again in ways he can’t even imagine. Someone who I never wanted to hear from while living far away, and didn’t want to answer calls from, yet feeling abandoned and desperate when he wouldn’t phone me every few days. Picking up the phone to call him, and “jokingly” asking him whether he forgot about me.

Hating him so intensely, while other moments, loving and wanting him so desperately. The desire to feel a connection to him. For him to be the father I always needed and wanted him to be. Attempting to get his attention, while at the same time uncomfortable with the thought that I might get it. Wanting him to really see me. Longing to escape him, yet feeling that even when I do, I’ll be unable to let go completely. That only death will annihilate it.

Trying to hide the marks on my skin from him, in my late teens and early adult years, yet desperately wanting him to notice them. Realizing one day that he had noticed, but never saying anything. Having his sister tell me to roll up my sleeves, while he stands there, saying nothing, not even looking at me. Refusing her harsh request, but being unable to stop her from grabbing my arm and forcing me to reveal what’s there. Her yelling at me “you stop this shit today!”. Looking over at him, hatred flooding my body, daring him to look at me. But he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at the floor. The coward. The bastard. Wanting to yell “I hate you”, but keeping it locked away instead. And still… I keep it locked away.

I feel like there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. I feel like no one understands. Not even my therapist. Not my closest friend. Unless we have somehow miraculously been transported into another persons body and mind, we will not understand what someone is really going through.

One minute I’m floating on a beautiful cloud, as high as I can get, surveying the amazing, rich landscape below and filled with gratitude, and the next the cloud just disappears out from under me and I find myself plummeting back down into the lowest depths of the earth.

I’m tired. Of this constant up and down, over and under. It’s exhausting. I long to just sleep for a few weeks, to get some rest. Or to fall asleep… Forever.
I’m so tired. I sometimes wish someone could just come and carry all this for me. Just for a little while. But no one can.

I want to yell “fuck it all”, “fuck you world” from the highest rooftop. Keeping these screams inside feels like a poison coursing through my body. The frustration and pain is so strong that it has a physical effect, and I can’t stop the shaking.

Another mark. They say it’s inappropriate. But if I express my emotions by giving them a voice, they say that’s also inappropriate.
“Just be positive”, “It’s not that bad”, “You can choose how you feel”.
So please tell me… What do I do when neither of those options are seen as “appropriate”? My mind is a black hole and maybe the answer is there, but there’s no light to illuminate it in this moment I find myself in.

I just saw my therapist on Thursday, and already I’m desperate to just reach out to her. To hear her soothing and gentle voice. But what if it’s not that voice? What if it’s the firm one? The one that frightens me when I’m in such a vulnerable place. No, I can’t call her, even though it takes every ounce of strength to resist… A strength that just leaves me drained and depleted.

It’s this hopeless, penetrating sadness again. I came across this video, and couldn’t stop the flood from taking over and unleashing the storm. It was as though someone was slicing through my whole body with a sharp knife, and the blood was pouring out in the form of tears. It hurt so bad. Because it touched me on the deepest level.


I wish I could make myself disappear.

It’s all too much. I want to sleep and never wake up.

A darkness so thick and overwhelming I don’t know where I am.

I’ve been trusting these past few weeks. Far too trusting. Now wounds have been opened, and attempts to close them are not working. I want to say “fuck it all”, “fuck you world”, and climb back over that disintegrating wall in an attempt to fix it. Safe behind it. At least partly safe until it’s back to its full strength. Allowing myself to climb over the wall, and having people hammer away at it at the same time might just have been my biggest mistake.

I don’t know if I can be healed or “fixed”. I don’t even know if I’m broken. Maybe it’s all just an illusion. Maybe none of this is real anyway. Maybe I have lost my mind, and my body is lying motionless somewhere, with everything going on only in my head.

A choir of voices filling the oceans within me.
“You’re worthless.”
“I’ll give you something to cry about.”
“How can that possibly upset you?”
“You’re a piece of shit.”
“Children should be seen, not heard.”
“You’re just like them.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Why can’t you be more like … She’s perfect”
“I hate you.”
“Get over it.”
“Stop being a baby and just get up.”
“Your feelings don’t matter right now”
“Can’t you do anything right?”
“I wish you would just die.”

Who’s voices are those? I can’t even tell anymore. It doesn’t even matter. Nothing does.

She just wanted someone to sit with her awhile when she couldn’t get out of bed.
She just wanted to be heard.
She just wanted to be held when the tears were falling fast.
She just wanted to be protected.
She just wanted to be understood.
She just wanted to feel worthy.
She just wanted you to love her.

But she is not here right now.

She’s gone.


Something so small.

A ‘healthy’ boundary set firmly in place.

My frustration and sudden anger. Trying to hide it, so she can’t hear.

My heart ripping into pieces. Shattered.

Finely tuned to every little subtlety in her voice. Searching…

How can something so small seem so big?

How can something so small feel like the deepest rejection?

How can someone I love so suddenly turn into someone I want to push and keep away?

How can the world turn dark again so very quickly?

A Missing Piece

Woke up this morning with a deep sadness that seemed to have taken over my entire body. I couldn’t move. I don’t know how long I just lay in bed feeling a heaviness that pinned me down and wouldn’t let go.

Then it hit me. I’m missing something. Someone. Today I feel the loss of all I recently left behind on a whole other level.

I’m missing a piece of me.


I miss our “children”… Our two dogs. They could drive me crazy at times. But just looking into those soulful little eyes, was enough to dissolve the anger and frustration. Those little guys who would climb all over me and lick me half to death whenever I was sitting or laying on the floor crying.

I miss our house. The way we redecorated so that I could feel it was my house too. The kitchen that I always complained about being too dark. The living room where we would sit and watch series after series. Movie after movie. Every room with it’s own special function and memories. The garden, where we pitched a 10 man tent just to see what it looked like, then took it down that same day, afraid the dogs would damage it.

I miss our little town. Where I knew most of the roads and the different ways to get to specific places. Where I knew where the cops would usually sit and then drive like a normal human being when approaching those areas. The mall that was always too busy. Where it felt like most people living in the town didn’t work, because how can a mall constantly be busy, even at 10am on a week day?

None of this ‘ours’ anymore. But now only a part of my memories.

Most of all I miss the girl I had both loved and hated at different moments during our relationship. The little things she did that I loved. Even those annoying habits that drove me crazy.

This sadness is crushing. I haven’t been able to get rid of it, not even for a moment. It’s always there. Hidden. Behind a wall that’s slowly starting to crack. It’s all there. Building up. But I desperately need a release right now.

To the girl I left behind. The girl I walked away from. The girl who will never read these words:

I miss you so damn much.