I think I started losing myself again in June…
One of the biggest issues with having BPD revolves around change. And honestly, this includes ANY kind of change, but for me it tends to revolve around routines. I think that for the most part people without mental health issues view changes in their routines as seemingly insignificant, tolerable, maybe slightly inconvenient… However, my mind fucking spirals when my habits and patterns become skewed.
In spring a close friend of mine moved away, not far, but far enough that meeting up wasn’t as easy. Yes, some of my daily routines, past times, and work life changed, but I was doing okay. I did worry that communication was going to change as well, but it really didn’t too much and I’ve been adapting to the best of my ability. Around that time I also lost my doctor to retirement (like good for her, but bad for me) who I trusted. If you have mental health issues, you understand how fucked it can be trying to find a provider that you trust and doesn’t make you feel like you just need more sunlight or whatever. But then in the end of June I lost a friend to well… the afterlife. She was 99 and on hospice though so I mean it wasn’t unexpected. I was lucky enough to be able to say goodbye and I truly felt at peace about it (And think I still am). Yet… these are all events are changes, some bigger than others, but changes nonetheless. So since spring I have been hyper-focused on death, changes, and losing the people around me to the point that I’ve begun to lose myself.
So now, I can see that I have apparently spiraled once more due to my inability to tolerate changes. The equation for the spiral begins with change, which leads to overwhelming anxiety, which then leads to non-suicidal depression, which then leads to self-hate, which inevitably leads to a series of self-sabotage techniques (which I have perfected). And here I am. Again.
I had a reality check this weekend and realized how much I have begun to self-sabotage myself again. I’m doing things that “normal” people would probably be moderately concerned about and that I should’ve been able to recognize as unhealthy. Most are small things… just things to boost my serotonin levels even for a bit… but all these little things have added up into piles of bullshit. Bad habits, negative thought processes, irrationality, sadness, paranoia, insomnia, self-harm, etc. But the WORST PART is that I’m looking to others to make myself feel better and distract me which is never okay. It’s just not fair to myself or others.
I KNOW how to make myself happy and actually deal with issues in a healthy way. I KNOW how to make my mindset better and what I should be doing. I KNOW I need a medication adjustment too (in process) because you can’t fix chemical imbalances with mediation and hobbies… sorry but you just fucking can’t. I KNOW what to do, but it’s like I’m completely ignorant and unaware of how bad things are until they get to this point. I keep thinking I’m completely self-aware of issues, but honestly unless someone really brings it to my attention, I’m only like half self-aware. Which isn’t super.
So yeah… here I sit… bitch-slapped by reality. Which honestly is okay. I’ve been through WAY WAY worse, but this still isn’t great. However, I do think that between this realization, some positive changes, reaching out for help, and a new med I’ll be doing okay again. Possibly even great. Who really knows… But at least I’m 100% aware now.
That’s it. That’s all I got.
Thanks for reading my thoughts.
-Hal
Author: Ash Ochoa Poetry
You'll figure it out.
Insomnia
You may ask me why I'm tired all the time and I'll tell you this... It's the restless thoughts and pointless repetitions. It's the endless worries and racing questions. It's the memories that haven't happened as I try to perceive the future. And it's the idea... And the notion... Of living without you.
Feast
Desire is callous and fleeting. For a period in time, a moment, you are craved. Passionately you are fed upon with hungry eyes and heavy hands. Ravenously loved, but only by selfishness, lust, and gluttony. Yet you lie grateful for the feast, for you too are starving.
Ruins
Reassurance…
As much as I hate to admit it… my exterior is a kind of a facade.
As a self-proclaimed badass, I have spent years vocalizing that I give no fucks and that if someone doesn’t like me they can leave. Physically I have the tattoos, the piercings, the edgy clothing, the angsty vibe… blah. However, on the inside I’m constantly begging for validation of my worth, value, and desirability.
Throughout my life I have looked to others for constant reassurance which come on… is bullshit. The problem is that I still don’t trust myself and/or lack the self-confidence that I try so hard to show. I mean when I’m manic… the god-complex takes over and I literally give NO fucks… but that only lasts for so long. When I’m not manic, I tend to feel worthless… empty… and lost unless someone is there to give me confirmation that I’m not those things.
But like why? Why am I unable to rely on myself? Why can’t I ignore the horrible thoughts my head tries to convince me?
Maybe it’s because I’m so paranoid that everyone hates me and is trying to leave me that I’m subconsciously convincing myself of the reasons that they should… (the abandonment again…).
Or maybe it’s the thought that if others verbalize my value then they will believe it more too. Thus, preventing them from wanting to leave me while also boosting my shit ego. I know it’s not healthy to rely on others for my happiness, I’m aware of that. I also do know deep, deep inside that I am all the amazing things that I tell myself I’m not. Yet… I still search for validation.
I’ve been trying to fix this self-doubt and hatred for awhile… like literal years. Lately, I’ve even been hiding positivity quotes around so I can find them randomly as a sort of pick me up. So I’m working on it… I really am. These kind of self-reflection posts do help the cause as well. Eventually I’ll figure it out. Maybe I need to go on some kind of bullshit retreat. I don’t know…
Until then I’ll be here, still acting like the badass I know I can be. Thanks for reading again.
-Hal
Canopy
Victoria Hill
Time
I hate time. I wish it would stop. I wish time would pause, take a break, and forget to restart. I wish the hands on the clock would inexplicably stop ticking their way through moments that will never come back. I wish the squares on every calendar were empty with events that would never occur. I wish the air would still and the world would be deafened by the harshness of complete silence. I wish the details in my memory weren't diminished by days of mindless routines and mundane expectations. Yet... if time was gracious enough to stop... would there truly be a point in ever existing?
Watchtower
Yellow Gorse
AO Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.