Him


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I can only write this from my perspective, of course. I can’t tell you what my family goes through. I don’t know what my friends experience. I could guess, but that would be it, a guess. But here is what I go through.

The following is going to be bits and pieces of coherent, we hope, thought as it comes to me.

First is the rage. I can literally see the switch in my head flip from peaceful to ready to explode. I only wish there was a visual clue to those around me. But I fill with rage in an instant and it just explodes out. I’m not violent with it, though that is an impulse I fight every second. My only real hope of it never getting that far is to find the right combination of meds.

From there, impulses. They vary. Everyone has basic impulses. Gut reactions. Instincts even. The thing about my impulses is that they can be very less than helpful. The impulse to quit a job because of a hard day. The impulse to hurt myself because of a rough week. I am very lucky that I’m through the job quitting phase. Everyone I’ve left have been for a solid reason. But each time it was the final straw impulse that put me there. In my current position I’ve had my tough times and I’ve talked myself out of quitting several times. I’m just lucky my love of the job is stronger than my impulse for self defense that leaves to the “I quit”. As for the impulse to hurt myself, that started right before I was in the hospital, and it ended before I got pregnant with Luke. It lasted not even 6 months. I’d say 3 or so. And I don’t plan to do it again. Another impulse that isn’t worth it.

Not all impulses are that extreme. Most of them are standard not thinking before I think or act. A lot of it can be brushed away as minor. But words and actions do hurt. And not everyone is so quick to forgive. Or worse yet, years of verbal impulses can chip away what patience there is. And I see what I’m doing. I know the pain. But I’m powerless to stop it. I honestly don’t know what I’m saying till it’s out of my mouth. I know, I know… think before you speak. I’m getting better. I wouldn’t be married otherwise. Here’s the kicker. I can usually convince myself something is harmless or can be explained to harmless in the 2 seconds it takes to think before I speak. I’m not usually right though.

Splitting is I think one of the worse parts. Imagine your entire world is black or white. Black is evil. White is godly. Everything is one of the 2, no half and half, and NO gray. That’s splitting. It mostly pertains to people.

I’m going to get the Andrew aspect out of the way here. He for the longest time was my first and only gray. I saw the good and bad in him at the same time. It’s been awhile. He’s mostly black now. I’ve spent a long time convincing myself of that. I don’t know if I can or could still see the good in him. I don’t want to. I’m happier seeing him as black.

Pat has been flip flopping between the 2 for years now. He can flip 10 times in one day, or he can go days or months before a flip. It has a lot to do with how we are treating each other. One minute he can be making me dinner and he is white as hell. The next minute he used instant mac and cheese, not the regular, and he’s suddenly evil. True story. My defense? He knew I wouldn’t eat the instant shit, why did he bother making it? Currently he won’t let me bite his neck, so black. Just teasing. But this will make him laugh when he reads this.

Not everyone is one or the other. Doesn’t mean they are gray. We’ll call them transparent. I don’t think there is a better way to describe it.

And my kids we’ll call rainbow. It’s like a whole different way of thinking.

As for myself, I’m usually black or transparent. That’s just how it works.

There is so much to add but I’m done for now.

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Back when I first made this I was afraid to let my hubby read it. Not because I had any dark secrets, but because I needed to be able to rant and have him not read about it. And that’s a great theory. But I’ve come to realize 2 things. First off, most of what I need to rant about he should read. If not so that he can fix it or do better, then to allow him to be aware of my influences. Second, I fully expected to rant about Andrew, the who. But a couple of months have passed, and I’ve toyed with delving into that, but in the end I have limited interest.

So here’s that situation in a nut shell.

Pat and I were having marital issues.
We separated and were headed for divorce.
I met Andrew.
Andrew and I started talking.
We started talking a lot.
We became good if not best friends.
Feelings formed.
Feeling grew.
There were a couple of dates and some messing around.
I feel in love with Andrew, to an extent that still scares me. (Because I don’t recall falling like that for anyone else yet I have so it shows how selective my memory is.)
Pat begged me to take him back.
I gave him a chance.
I was hospitalized from depression.
I realized in the hospital I didn’t want to be married to him so I told him such.
He moved out of my mom’s house where we were living.
I started things back with Andrew.
I had sex with Andrew.
I moved in with Pat.
Not because I thought things would work, but because I was a mess and needed Pat’s help and not while under my manipulative mother’s roof.
Somewhere along the line I realized that while I wasn’t infatuated with Pat like I was Andrew, I still loved him, he was my best friend, and I wanted to grow my family with him.
I decided to make my marriage work.
Things ended with Andrew.
We don’t even talk now.
And I learned that the person I fell for, is not who he really is.

Is the made up imaginary Andrew built in my schizotypal mind a threat to my marriage? Not really, I’m happy with Pat. Even on our bad days, I want to be with Pat.

Is the real Andrew a threat to my marriage? Not in a million.

Am I still sensitive to his existence? Yes, and I hate it. But I just can’t get past being uncomfortable with my husband talking about my vibrator over vent to Jesse, Andrews brother, with Andrew listening. And it isn’t because I don’t want Andrew to hear. It’s because the entire situation throws me back in my memory of past conversations that I really don’t want to think up. Not because I wish for them. But because I’d really rather leave the memories in the past, where they belong.

It flat out doesn’t help that Andrew will never be able to be fully out of my life. His brother is one of me and Pat’s closest friends. Andrew and Pat are acquaintances. There is no full separation. So I get thrown into memories almost daily in a way I really don’t want to be. I don’t like it. And I’m hoping it eventually stops. I just tell myself daily that it wasn’t real. None of it was real. I was just a cheap thrill. LOL I’m thrilled I can say that and think that and not care. Because it means I really finally don’t care.

Pat, is understandably, paranoid.

And it is one of my biggest goals in life, right after happy healthy children and a successful career, to show him that he never need worry again.

And that’s the rant. Only without the rant. So that’s the bleh? I’m not angry or hurt or frustrated anymore. I don’t regret, it served it’s purpose. If nothing else, it lit a fire under Pat to fight for me and that brought along changes that needed to happen for us to stay married. With the added bonus of me discovering parts of myself long past forgotten.

I don’t love Andrew. I don’t like Andrew. I miss my former best friend, but even that person is a figment of my imagination. And has since been filled in with much better imaginative friends.

So the question is, do I give Pat the link to this? I vote yes. I have nothing to hide.

Pat says the more I even mention it, the more it gives him right to be paranoid. And I do realize he’s right. So maybe this entry will have him in tears of hurt and frustration. I asked for it. But maybe a few bits and pieces of it will show him where I’m coming from a little bit better. Either way I’m done talking about it.

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Uh, so… welcome from stumble upon? This is one of the first few entries in this blog is also one of the more personal ones. It is also a very clear picture of BPD. While the references it makes into my personal life, won’t always make sense, you will get a clear idea of what it’s like to be me. Reading more entries in my blog will make those ideas clearer. I suggest if you want to look around you start with the “BPD Blog Articles” found about halfway down my left column. That will clear up the BPD mystery and then you can just explore from there.

I also feel that a lot has changed since I wrote this originally about 4 or so years ago. There are 3 things, really, that remain true: I have BPD (plus the reasons of why the diagnosis fits), I’m married to Pat, and I’m a mom. Who is split into what, opinions of people (Andrew), and other things are all subject to change, and a lot of it has.

The following is old. It is a word for word copy paste from what entered into my myspace on March of 2007:

BPD I emailed the following directly to those who I felt needed it directly. But here it is for everyone else. It’s long. Bare with me. But I encourage the full reading.

Whom It May Concern

If you are reading this it’s because I have some value invested in you understanding me. You are a family member, friend or doctor who needs to know where I’m coming from for some reason. Maybe you need to better diagnose me. Maybe I’m afraid of losing you over the next mood swing or fit of anger. Maybe my fear of abandonment has me knowing I’m a day away from losing everyone I care about, at least in my mind, if not in reality. But either way I feel the need for you to “understand” me. For whatever reason that may be. And this is about everything BUT you liking what you read. I’m honest here. That’s the point though. But maybe by the end you’ll have a clearer picture of who I am? Or maybe you’ll just better understand that I can’t help the way I am, and the more I push you away, the more I need you. So here I am pulling you in, in what is a big step for me. So humor me, read this. And please understand. I need you all in various ways. Some ways you wish I didn’t, whether that’s because it’s too much or too little. And in some ways that make perfect sense. Should also mention I could be very wrong about parts of this. This is just as I understand things and myself. I’m still confused about what’s going on inside of me. I just have more clarity than I ever did before.

For years I have struggled with various states of depression and “mood disorders”. In high school I was diagnosed Bi-polar. It was a fit. I had mood swings between an elevated state and a depressive state, and I heard about this thing call manic depression. So I went to my first appointment with my first meds doctor convinced that was the case, said what I needed to say, and had that diagnosis within an hour. It was as easy as that.

About 6 months after I gave birth to my son, life threw me into a deep depression. Post partum depression, life events, and my own mental issues all teamed up against me and I got bad. For a period of months I felt empty inside. I had no self-motivation. I drowned in my own existence, unable to even get out of bed most days. After a nice long wait on a list I finally got back into a doctor. I went to that appointment convinced there was no way I was bi-polar. My ups didn’t exist. My mood was an even depressive. And diagnosed depressed I was. After an hour’s worth of consultation of me knowing, once again, what to say to get the diagnosis I felt was right.

Then most recently I got back into therapy. I had been off of meds for a few years and my mood were as erratic as ever. I went into that session terrified of what to say. I saw the pattern of me pre-deciding what was wrong and knowing what to say to get the doctors involved to agree. I was terrified I had never been accurately diagnosed. I was terrified of it happening once again. I thought I knew I was bi-polar. But I didn’t want that diagnosis based on my opinion so I didn’t know what to say. I pulled Pat into a session with Julie and he recited what he saw of my moods and behavior. She agreed bi-polar was very possible and began work with me on how to recognize my moods and how to deal with them. Doctor K also agreed I had a personality disorder, but as of yet has not officially diagnosed which one. Making him the first of many doctors I’ve spoken to who hasn’t jumped to a diagnosis after an hour.

Just earlier this week, after a conversation between Pat and I, Julie suggested maybe I wasn’t bi-polar after all. Maybe I suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder. She read to us a brief description of the disorder and it was like the person who wrote those words knew me. So I borrowed my mom’s copy of “I Hate You – Don’t Leave Me”. 9 pages into the first chapter I was in tears. For the first time in 23 years it was like everything clicked. By the end of the second chapter everything about me that made me who I am and made me different suddenly made sense and all fell into one diagnosis. It left no stone unturned. All of me fit. And for the first time I knew without a glimmer of a doubt what it was that was wrong with me. And for the first time I wasn’t alone. Sure lots of people are bi-polar, but I was so much more that just didn’t fit. But it all makes sense with BPD.

The following is just random thoughts as I skim through my notes in the margin of the book and through the thoughts buried deep inside my head. I might try to go back and put them into a logic order. Or I might just let them as they are so my thought

~Splitting – Branden was “good/white” until I had the chance to see him regularly. I saw no bad in him. He was my knight in shiny armor who could do no wrong. Then I moved in with him. And suddenly his flaws were impossible to miss. It didn’t take long for him to turn “bad/black” and for it to be impossible for me to see the good. And once that happened I pushed him away and never looked back. In the process I immediately jumped to Pat. Pat had been my friend for 2 years. He was my teddy bear who adored me and would never let harm touch me. He wanted to take care of me. Have a family with me. And worshiped the ground I walked on. Things were great until Pat forced me into a decision that forever changed my view of him. He quickly went from my protector to the monster who destroyed my life. Forever black in my eyes. Something I’m now trying to fix. I’m trying to start over so I can re-see the white in him. Even now when I see him as white I’m blind to the black and vice versa. And I will always have my times where he is black. He isn’t perfect. But I need, for things to work, for me to be able to see him as white the majority of the time, or I will continue to push him away as I have been doing almost consistently for the past 3 years. As for Andrew, I’m not sure where he fits into this. I’ve been exposed to his black. He’s done everything he can to push me away and has tried to make me hate him. He is the first person I’ve ever fully seen as a shade of gray. I see his good and bad at once and despite all instead of pushing him away like I do everyone else who disappoints my white expectations, I cling to him. I don’t know if he truly is my gray exception, or if he’s just the lesser of 2 evils/hurts, or if he, is as I’m convinced, the first person I’ve ever been truly in love with. I just don’t know. It’ll be time that really tells. But as for now, he remains my gray mystery.

~BPD does explain my creativeness. And when I have a camera in my hand, it’s the only time I truly have confidence and a sense of control in what is otherwise total chaos. At the same time a poor supervisor, like Debbie, can take that confidence and squash it at the drop of a hat and trigger my hypersensitivity to criticism and rejection. She always had too much control over my confidence at my job and my ability to be happy with my job. A job I otherwise love despite it’s many flaws and frustrations.

~”But I have a big problem with getting close or being touched”. My bubble. I’ve always had my bubble. And sometimes it’s less intense than others. But when it’s up, it’s up and there is no getting through it. Again, the only pure complete exception to this rule has been Andrew. I don’t know if that’s just because he hasn’t hurt me enough? But now 2 break-ups and the bubble still doesn’t exist for him so I really don’t know. As it is, my own family, mom, son, husband and friends are victims of the bubble. I have never been touchy feely. I have to come to you, you can’t come to me. And if I don’t know you then back off, you do not stand a chance. It has its extremes. I have intense issues with body fluids for example. I cannot drink after people… 2 exceptions (Thomas and Andrew). I have never been one to have any interest in using tongue when kissing. I’ve been working on that and I have my moods where it isn’t an issue. But for the most part that thought of someone’s saliva anywhere near my mouth is enough to make me want to run the either way. The other end of this issue is of a more personal bedroom type of body fluid. It’s a down right phobia unless I’m in the exact right mood. I want nothing to do with it and the sight, smell, touch or taste is enough to make me sick to my stomach. Sometimes it’s so extreme that my own fluids being enjoyed by my partner has a reaction of major anxiety and borderline panic. There are moods where this isn’t an issue. And again there is one very consistent exception who wouldn’t know this was even a problem of mine if I hadn’t said something. I have been known to hyperventilate when being touched in general by someone, even just a hand on the shoulder, and during sexual experiences with Pat. And I have been known to flip from ok with things to sudden hyperventilation and panic mid experience usually with no known trigger. It got so bad that for a period of about 3 years I had no sex drive. It took Andrew to bring it back. Now I’m working on it being there for Pat. I have my days. But it’s anything but consistent.

~”I vowed I would live in and deal with the real world, but I’ll tell you, it’s a frightening place. I’m not sure yet whether I can do it or whether I want to do it.” As much as I hated the hospital within days, and still now, I have an urge to go back. It’s safe there.

~”The extreme behaviors keep me so confused. At times I don’t know what I’m feeling or who I am.” I flip between moods so easily and quickly. It takes so little to trigger the change. I don’t always or even usually know what happened to cause it. I’m left feeling confused and scared of what happened and not knowing who I am.

~When compared to the dependent personality, I am very avoident of being alone. So much so that I’ve created my own friends in my head to keep me company. Even when I’m not technically alone, unless I’m in the presence of someone who is still white for me, I might as well be alone. Something I fear. And I am very, very dependent on those who are still white for me and also a few select blacks. And my dependency on my one gray is very obvious.

~Like the schizotypal personality, I have the poor relations and a difficulty in trusting people. Plus, of course, the healthy dose of magical thinking.

~I have many OCD traits. Everything from the body fluid issues, my need for order, my rituals with things like my alarm clock, my inability to be less than 15 minutes early anywhere without a genuine panic.

~Like a narcissist I have severe hypersensitivity to criticism, failure and rejection. Though I’m most defiantly not a narcissist thanks to my complete lack of self-esteem among other fairly obvious things.

~Like the antisocial personality I’m highly impulsive, and I have no tolerance of frustration. Though I live in a constant state of guilt which in itself can be debilitating.

~Finally, like the histrionic I’m continually seeking attention and am highly manipulative.

~I should point out I know I’m not any of the above illnesses, I just also am aware they all can share traits with someone with BPD, and I do recognize the traits I share with them.

~Substance abuse. My drinking has been brought into question a few times recently. So I’ve decided between now and my birthday in November I’m not going to drink at all. And then after that only a very little bit on occasions like holidays and such. Not so much because I think I have a problem, but because I want to prove I’m in control and I don’t want to get to the point where I’m not. I don’t have problems with drugs. I flat out don’t take them unless a doctor tells me too. So that is one substance I know I’m ok with.

~Eating disorders. I have my depressives where I flat out have no appetite and don’t eat. I lost 20 pounds in a very short time last fall because of this. I have my moods where you can’t stop my appetite and I don’t try to.

~Criterion 1 – “Unstable and intense interpersonal relationships, with marked shifts in attitudes towards others from idealization to devaluation or from clinging dependency to isolation and avoidance and prominent patterns of manipulation of others.” I know I touched on this. I do want to draw attention to the times I get so bad where I literally hide for days if not weeks isolating myself from almost everyone. I make unrealistic demands on others that I don’t see as unrealistic at the time and sometimes never do. I can recognize it in myself thanks to having it repeatedly pointed out and because of a lot of reflection over the past few days. I’m very manipulative and pretty much always have been. I don’t see my mistakes and patterns until they have been drilled into me. Usually even then it’s more me taking someone’s word for it than actually seeing it myself. And I’m very scared my effort to fix things with Pat is me once again falling into a pattern. And I do also have difficulty in running into acquaintances outside of the usual setting because I don’t know how to respond. I only know them as a co-worker/teacher/etc not seeing that they have a separate life. So yes, this one fits.

~”Afflicted with self-loathing, the borderline distrusts others’ expressions of caring.” I honestly don’t understand why others give a damn. I don’t understand why Pat wants anything to do with me. I see myself as the user and abusive manipulative nut case who has screwed up his life and just continually causes him hurt. And no matter how many times he has explained to me why he loves me and why I’m worth this I don’t get it. Thomas. I’m the neglectful mother who feels an incredible amount of guilt for the blame I’m trying not to place on him. I would have pushed Pat away long before we would have had a chance to get married if pregnancy hadn’t sped up that process. And now I feel like I have to try and make things work. Andrew has told me he’s in love with me. I know he is. I still can’t fathom why he would be and why he gives a damn about my and my hurts. Who am I to him but the needy bitch who pulled him into a love triangle and made him the object of other people’s frustrations? I messed up his life and yet he claims to care. Why? Because he does love me. Why? I don’t know. I don’t understand. As for friends in general. All I am is a unstable nutcase who they have all seen flip a million times and a few have even been witness to my fits of sudden rage that come from nowhere. Some of them I know for sure if they witnessed them they would never have anything to do with me again. The others, I question why they even want to be around me. So I don’t see why people care. I feel others would be better without me being around. I do nothing but cause hurt and anger.

~Criterion 2. “Impulsiveness in at least two areas that are potentially self –destructive, e.g., chemical abuse, sexual promiscuity, gambling, shoplifting, excessive spending, overeating, anorexia nervosa, or bulimia. Yes, this one fits.

~”For the borderline, there is no escapes from the “now”, if even for brief respite and perspective.” Even my plan in getting by, one day at a time, sums it up. I can barely handle surviving today, tomorrow doesn’t even exist and yesterday is barely even a memory anymore.

~Criterion 3 – Radical Mood Shifts. Enough said, this fits.

~Criterion 4 – “Inappropriate, intense anger, or lack of control of anger, e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights.” I do get physical with it. But I’m mostly very verbal with it. It comes from nowhere. It comes with no warning. It can be triggered by the slightest of things. It leaves it’s victims and observers wondering what the hell happened and frustrated with me. It leaves me hating myself for hurting those I care about. And the more I care about a person, the bigger and more regular a target they are. Yes, this one fits.

~Criterion 5 – “Recurrent suicidal threats, gestures, or behavior, or self-mutilating behaviors.” “The self-inflicted pain may reflect the borderline’s need to feel, to escape an encapsulating numbness.” “Though the blood and scars may be fascinating for the borderline to observe” “self destructive behavior can also evolve from a manipulative need for sympathy or RESCUE” “Many borderlines deny feeling pain during self-mutilation and even report a calm euphoria after it. Before hurting themselves, they may experience great tension, anger, or overwhelming sadness; afterwords there is a sensation of release and relief from anxiety.” There are days where the only thing that keeps me from cutting is my fear of abandonment. So yes, this needless to say, applies to me.

~Criterion 6 – “Marked and persistent identity disturbance manifested by uncertainty in at least two of the following: self-image, sexual orientation, long-term goals, or career choice, type of friends desired, preferred values.” I have no idea who I am, what I want, or where I’m going. I’m not even sure where I’ve been. I don’t know who I am. Those around me know me better than I know me. “Borderlines lack a constant, core sense of identity, just as they lack a constant core conceptualization of others.” For the borderline, identity is graded on a curve. Who she is (and what she does) today determines her worth, with little regard to what has come before.” “Self-esteem is only attained through impressing others; so pleasing others becomes critical to loving herself.” That right there dictated the majority of everything I do. Including the original and one of the big reasons I’m trying with Pat. I have since found reasons of my own. But this is still there. It’s ever present in about everything I do. “He continues to feel like he is faking it and is terrified that he will, sooner or later, be found out.” This too, is behind about everything I do. So yes, again, this fits.

~Criterion 7 – “Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom.” I live life empty and bored. “Lacking a core sense of identity, borderlines commonly experience a painful loneliness that motivates them to search for ways to fill up the “holes”.” “The borderline frequently experiences a kind of existential angst.” Just, yes fine this fits.

~Criterion 8 – “Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment” I’ve been suffering this hardcore since I was little. I’ve always feared being alone. I have issues with being abandoned. One of the reasons Pat went from white to black. He abandoned me mentally and emotionally and by hiding from me, physically as well. It’s why I always panicked when he threatened to leave. And probably one of the reasons I gave up on changing his mind last July. By that point he was already gone even if he was there. And I just didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. The repeated threat of abandonment had grown to be worse than the abandonment itself so I just wanted it over with and him gone. Also probably why I moved in with him so quickly once he did leave. I was abandoned. It was just my mom and I. She was never around. I was always alone. I couldn’t handle it. Everyone all around abandoned me. “Particularly when they are alone, borderlines may lose the sensation of existing, of feeling real.” I started sleeping through the days. Not to hide but because I was so use to being around people during the days it’s when I felt alone the most. Where I was use to being alone at night so while it was still hard it wasn’t as hard. Even my “friends” weren’t around much. I had stopped existing and being real to such a degree there were no relief from them. My coping mechanism was failing me when I needed it the most. “The pain of loneliness can only be relieved by the rescue of a fantasized lover” or in my case my magical thinking and “friends”. So as I sit feeling overly alone in “our” room and overly alone in my little world that is so isolated from the rest of the world, this is the criterion that hurts the most and yes it applies.

~”She began to doubt she could ever be happy.” When have I ever thought I was capable of happy?

~Right now my biggest fear is what this is doing to Thomas. And I’ll be honest; my self-destructive thoughts tell me he’d be better off with no mommy than a mommy who is this completely messed up. So I fight to convince myself that isn’t true. I can learn to not let this run my life. I can learn to be the mommy he deserves and I want to be.

~”Elizabeth’s vision of reality became more frail: She yearned to be psychotic, to live in a fantasy world where she could “go anywhere” in her mind. The world would be so far removed from reality, no one – not even the best psychiatrist – could get to her and “see what’s underneath.”" It would be so much safer there.

~”The borderline’s fear of change involves a basic distrust of her “brakes.” In healthier people these psychic brakes allow a gradual descent from the pinnacle of a mood or behavior to a genital stop in the “gray zone” of the incline. Afraid that his set of brakes won’t hold, the borderline believes that he won’t be able to stop, that he will slide out of control to the bottom of the hill.” By now we all know I have no brakes in any direction my mood takes me.

~I have very limited memory. Most black events get either completely blocked out or mostly so that I have just a rough idea of them. Most gray events are completely gone. And white events it depends on the state I was in. If the best thing ever happened in the midst of a disabling depression, I won’t remember it. Either way much of the past 23 years is a fog with some events sticking out. And some memories can be triggered back. Others are flat out gone for good. And some are just vague ideas of what I was like or what I was doing/living/etc at certain times in my life.

~I’m now officially sick of being referred to as “the borderline” by a book that thinks it knows me better than I know myself and I’m ready to burn the damn thing. But I can’t because it’s my mom’s and she’d get mad. Even though I need to buy her a new copy anyway since this one is filed with my notes. Still won’t burn it. I’m too terrified of fire.

~Even after all this, the fact I can so rationally sit down and see all this in myself leaves me feeling doubt. Maybe I’m faking it. Maybe it isn’t real. Maybe it’s like everything else where I know what to say to get others to agree with what type of crazy I am. Maybe I really am mentally ok and just feel the need for spotlight. If I had BPD, would I so rationally be able to recognize every aspect and trait of it I have?

~Final thought… Just because I can see what I’m doing doesn’t mean I have the ability to stop myself. But I am working on that. I will learn.

~Ok one more final thought. For the sake of the feelings of those I care about. When I’m pushing the world away, hiding in my room and all that. It isn’t individual people I’m seeing as black verses white. Stacy, for example, has never been black to me. Never. IT isn’t ever a case of me pushing her away so much as it’s me hiding from her. And it isn’t her, it’s the entire world in general. I don’t think it’s me seeing the world black. I think it’s more me being so black inside and out that I’m drowning in it and not exposing the white to it. If that makes any sense at all. Anyway just thought I should mention that so people who shouldn’t take things personally didn’t. Stacy isn’t the only white in my life. She’s just been around the longest of all of my friends except for Pat.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Splitting


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Husband:
I’ve been married to Pat for 5 years now. Getting close to 6, really. I’m not really sure what to say.

In a later post I’ll go into detail about the separation we went through a few years back. The what, where, when, why, how and who. Oh dear god the who. I think the who might be the sole reason I have not planed to make my husband a reader of this blog. And it isn’t even that there is anything remaining. Because there isn’t. Nothing real anyways. All I have left is a memory of who I thought he was, and the reality is not something I’d ever want. But he is SO FUCKING PARANOID that I can’t even mention the who without him breaking out into hives and freaking the fuck out. And I understand his paranoia. I mean first and foremost, I earned it. I get that. No, really. I get it. But I also get that he can’t help but be paranoid.

Here is the thing. My husband is disabled, mentally. He has, in no certain order; Post traumatic stress disorder (from his childhood. Yeah.), autism, ADHD and about 4 other anxiety disorders. Bottom line, my husband can barely function. In most ways. In others he is amazing. There is no other man on this planet I’d rather raise my babies with. His babies. Our babies. I married him because he was my best friend and because I wanted to build a family with him. Due to being disabled, he is an amazing stay at home father to our 2 boys. He makes it look easy. He struggles with it time to time, but I dare you to show me one person who doesn’t. To top it off I swear to the high heavens the man could be a gourmet chef. So really, I’m cool with him being home with the kids.

We like to joke that he is my “chick with a dick” or my “bitch with balls”. In many ways he is very feminine. And damn proud of it. These qualities bring to the relationship a man who is more attentive and aware than your average man.

On the down side his ADHD has discovered the world of online gaming. And while I never doubt the boys and I are the most important parts of his life, I do find myself in the eternal power struggle between me and the games he plays. It doesn’t help that in the real world he is too anxious to step out of the house most days, but online when he can hide behind a computer and a character, he is a literal social butterfly. We all have our vices, gaming is his. Lucky for me, while I’m not as hardcore, I too am a gamer. So we are able to share that for as long as my attention span allows me.

Enough about him. The most of what you need to know is he is a great guy. Flawed, but perfect for what I need him to be: mine.

The kids:
Thomas is 5 and Luke is almost 1.

Thomas is a boys, boy into cars, super heroes, and online gaming like his parents.

He is as smart as can be and soaks in information as if it were oxygen, as long as he’s interested to learn it. If he doesn’t care you can teach him till you are blue in the face, but his mind is else where. Luckily this year he’s decided he wants to learn his letters. Prompted when most of his friends went to kindergarten this year, but he had a third year of preschool. Mind you he was just barely old enough to go and that’s why we kept him back, but the extra year for a head start seems to be paying off. He’s upfront that his favorite “class” is muscles and he hates music. My bet, he’ll be playing football like his father and not the flute (or any instrument) like me.

He is smarter than both his father and I, and has proven it on many occasion. Almost daily. He is quick with a cleaver, and usually cute, response to anything you tell him. And has inspired many a phone call starting with “I have to tell you what he said this time”. I knew I was in trouble when at about 13 months he flipped over the dog dish so that he could better reach the counter. He’s only gotten smarter, and climbed higher, since.

His current obsessions in life include: ironman, optimus prime, drawing, his digital camera (kid tough as it is) and playing online games like/with daddy.

Luke is a terror of a toddler. He was taught early by his big brother the proper ways to be hyper, sassy and how to beg for food. And beg for food he does. There are few things the kid won’t eat. Lucky for him, we got orders from his doctor to fatten him up. Best goddamn doctor on the planet. I like my baby chubby and his thighs ham like.

Speaking of his hams, I’m been “nomming” my baby from the day he left the womb. I’ve accidentally left teeth marks before just for him to giggle with glee and nom right back. Indeed, he has been taught from birth that nomming is a sign of affection. Affection that he gladly returns.

He’s currently learning to: stand, walk, talk and “attack bubby”. While he’s a novice in most of these, he’s learning fast and will be walking, talking and attacking before we know it.

His current obsessions in life include: Momma, eating, refusing to nap and chewing books.

That’s all for now. I have more family to cover but I think I’ve rambled enough.