*I hardly ever give a trigger warning but this time I will. This entry is disturbing and it will stay with you. On trigger warnings – had this been my own story, something that happened to me years ago, I wouldn’t have put up a trigger warning. This is some other child’s story, an 8 year old boy in the middle of this battle. It makes the pain much deeper so I put up the warning. If you happen to see a trigger warning on this site, trust it, they don’t come up often.*
Archive for the 'Borderline Personality Disorder' Category
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-inner dialoged-
She’s strong in her faith, a good woman with a successful marriage, children, grandchildren. Why on earth would she want to hang around me. I could just see everything in her life going sour. She’s leave her faith, fall to depression and end up dead if she hung around me.
You need to be quiet. If this girl is as strong in faith as you think she is but you’re worried about being wicked and destroying her, then you my have underestimated the power of God’s spirit.
Arrow of MP
Power Underestimated – Thursday, December 30, 2010
He isn’t happy with me, not at all…..not happy with me at all. Things get really bad when his stuff comes up or when Dr. D addresses him personally. I want to talk to Dr. D really bad.
This has been in my head all day long. It’s been in my head while feeding the dog, while caring for the fish and the toads. No matter what I do or where I go I hear self condemnation.
The problem with me and ‘that girl’ is according to her website entries, I’m exactly what she was looking for. She needed someone with a violent past who would reenact their pain on her. She needed someone broken, angry and ill. No one healthy would do what she wanted done. I was perfect!
When I saw her I had few red flags. I looked at her and worried but I thought it was because of my past not because of something she was doing. We went on a few dates and things seemed to be going very well then in an instant it all changed. The person I really enjoyed spending time with showed her true colors. At first I thought it would be fine for me to say no and tell her why but it became apparent to me that the stories were exactly what she wanted to hear. She wanted me to tell her what my mother did to her then do it to her. She wanted me to reenact the abuse with me as my mother and her as young me.
I have very black and white thinking when it comes to most things including my cat. I either like her or I don’t. I think she’s the sweetest thing on earth or I wish I’d never brought her here. She’s called the perfect cat or the worst cat I’ve ever had followed by a vow to never get another cat again. It occurred to me the other day that I have no middle ground with her. She’s good or she’s bad.
I look at Gus and think he’s a good dog with issues. I look at him and think he’s a sweet gentle monster with a huge head and clumsy feet. I have middle ground with him. I know what his issues are and most of the time I can see past them for all his good.
We talked in therapy today about a suicide attempt I made August 7th and how I felt I really should have gone in way before it ever got that bad. I was disappointed in myself that I didn’t act. I was also disappointed and maybe a little angry that Dr. D didn’t quite hear me when I told him that I was in trouble. Several times I told him I was in trouble and on the edge but what we focused on was how difficult it was for me to leave the house. What exactly could he have said to let me know he heard me? I think he should have suggested that I go in.
I am well aware that I am ultimately responsible for myself so I don’t want to make it sound as if my attempt could have been stopped by Dr. D. I know for myself I should have acted. I should have gone in but I didn’t. Not feeling heard is a different issue than my inaction.
I wrote an entry yesterday about how I was told that my then neighbor/roommate died. That entry reminded me of a game my mother use to play called, “Guess Whose Dead?” Out of the blue the mother would come up to my sister and myself and say, “Guess Whose Dead?” “Who?” we’d ask. She’d say someone’s name then wait for us to gasp and ask if it was real. She’d tell us, no, so-in-so is still alive. We’d playfully groan and she’d go on until the next time, when we’d do it all over again. It was a pointless game of announcing the death of a loved one who didn’t really die.
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