When Your Brain is Your Worst Enemy

I hate my brainToday I had one of those BPD experiences where I freaked out because I thought someone was leaving my life. However, I actually handled it slightly better than usual, and fortunately what I feared – this time – wasn’t the case.

The problem is, we borderlines know what it’s like.  Too well.  Another friend. Gone.  Because they couldn’t handle us.  So, when we think we see it happening again…

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH, NO!  STOP.  Not again. Not this one.  Please.  Ugh.

After I finally found out what exactly was going on, I felt silly for the paranoia and conclusion jumping.  But, seeing as I still grieve the loss of certain people in my life who decided they no longer wanted to be there… I still feel the paranoia was justified, if unwarranted.

I suppose it’s also the realisation of how much I am attached to this person, as well.  BPD all over the place.  I just don’t know how to be friends without a deep attachment, akin to falling in love, but that sounds way too freaky – there needs to be some other name for it.  Attachment isn’t right.  Falling isn’t right.  I don’t know what is right.  It’s almost like an infection – like you get infected with another person.  Eeewww, that sounds terrible.  So, we haven’t hit upon the right term yet. I’ll think of it. In time.  I’ll probably write a song about it.

As I say, I dodged the bullet this time. And, I’m grateful.  But, today has reminded me how not right in the head I am. And, yeah, that sucks.

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Dangerous Encounters (or, “encounters are dangerous” OR, “the OTHER SIDE of social anxiety”)

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Pardon this, my exercise in futility.
Some may relate, others will think it insanity.
And, it’s true that madness is never far from me…
But, still, I bet I’m not alone in my quandary.

I’m not alone in this aloneness that must be.

© Autumn Dawn Leader 2014

What if I like you but you don’t like me? Eh, not that likely…if you don’t like me I’m not liable to be especially enamoured of you either. So, this is more of a gnat-buzzing-around-the-face annoyance rather than a problem. And, if for some reason, I do really like you while you don’t like me, I’ve had years to get used to rejection. I’ve built up an immunity.

But…

What if I like you too much? And maybe you like me a bit. And then I get attached. Or, worse, you get infatuated.

It might not ever happen again. I’m getting old. But…

And, infatuation aside, what if there’s some spark of friendship? What if I like it? But, you’ll get tired eventually. They all do. I’m no one’s “bestie” or “bff” or whatever the cool kids are calling best friends these days.

No. I’m no people person; that’s for sure. And, when I meet new people, there’s a chance for strong dislike. My dislike of them because they’re human. They’re dislike of me because I’m me. And, the thing is…that’s ok. There’s no danger in this.

No, the problem comes when there is a liking one way or another…or mutual. Because, it rarely ends well…but, it always ends.

Living in Hope

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I don’t clear out my phone often enough; messages sit there for months, years even. Call me a sentimental fool. I hold up my hand and confess.

Today, wrapped in a blanket, feeling physically unwell (as I have for some time), I decide to do a tidy up on my phone. With relative emotional ease, I deleted messages in order to clear space.

Then, I went back into my contacts in order to send a message to my husband. There, in my contacts, was my old friend who no longer wants me in her life.

Awhile back I had deleted her messages, so they weren’t a constant reminder of her absence from my life. But, at the time, and again today, I couldn’t bring myself to delete her from my contacts.

Realistically, I know she might have changed her number by now, but to delete her name out of my phone the way she deleted me from her life… I can’t do it yet. Not today. I still hope that one day she might say hello, might think of the friendship we had…might let go of judgements and assumptions…might just want to laugh and make music with another funny musical soul.

She doesn’t need me anymore. I was surplus. Complicated. And, I became uncomfortable (to her) when I began saying how I really feel and think.

My friend is gone, but I remember and I hope.

Hope is a bitch.