tomorrow i’m going to wake up at some point. and try to make it into the city to drop off the last of the forms and pick up the last money. and then i’m going to go to a place where people are eating food and drinking beverages and socializing with other people the way humans do and i’m going to know that most of those people are going to see me cry a lot. and i have to accept that now, or i won’t be able to handle it. i have to process it now. have to have to.
i just remembered you saying as part of a metaphor that if you were my roommates, you would be confused and find it upsetting how i stay in my room all the time and avoid being in common areas unless alone and etc. etc.
and it’s fucking sad and ironic because it presents the idea that just ignoring people or disengaging from them and hoping they get the message is you know, kinda screwed up
except … yeah.
and actually remembering that i’m just confused and sad. just really fucking sad. not angry, i think i could be, i could let the sadness be anger but what good would that do? it wouldn’t do anything. it’s actually just incredibly sad. everything is incredibly fucking sad.
was sitting here getting really sad because i can’t talk to you, and that is just really fucking sad. but then i thought, would i be any less sad if this was a month ago? probably not. because i haven’t actually been able to talk to you for a long time. with no sign other than being ignored or told i am stressful (but also that everything is fine. always fine. fine fine fine okay okay okay until reality starts to bleed away). it was sad then too, i just pretended it wasn’t and drove myself insane trying to act like it wasn’t, because clearly i wasn’t supposed to be sad. my sadness just caused more stress and made it worse so, try very hard not to be sad, dani (i would tell myself). and little pieces of me broke and died. and that’s what’s been happening to me, for months.
called my financial adviser called my psychiatrist’s office (left a voicemail) called the counseling place the suicide hotline recommended a few weeks ago, they took my insurance info and said they would call back got coffee purchased a cupcake that i have yet to eat bought baking soda to clean Sweetness because she is dingy thought about how mourning a relationship is almost less painful then being in a seemingly endless stasis did a lot of great work in both my hello kitty theme park world and my hello kitty kawaii town world
i have to still:
do laundry clean take a shower get more out of my head cry
i have no phone service, and no money. i can’t text anyone or reach out to anyone anywhere but here, pretty much. i’m really really tired and really really ready to just stop trying to even function or care or express anything. i’m just so tired.
i am so depressed that the normal basic skills that would be there to think around this stuff are just, gone.
i feel helpless and i probably shouldn’t but i’m just really really out of energy and optimism and hope. i never felt like i was worth my own effort to begin with.
it actually feels great to say it. that i’m irreparably flawed/broken. because before when i said it i felt guilty. but now you’re not going to read this.
i think a lot of times (not all, for sure, but a solid amount) you thought i was talking to you or directing stuff at you when a lot of it was just, the same performance of despair i’ve been doing whenever i get stressed or overwhelmed or miserable for years now.
this is what i do. i am miserable loudly on the internet. it has been my only method of coping that doesn’t directly damage others. or it didn’t used to, and that’s the thing. i had this, and it, the ability to vent here and get my thoughts out here has literally saved my life, multiple times. but then it stopped being a place where the thoughts could go without damaging anything. i think i really really needed a place like that.
I’ve tried keeping diaries and having personal blogs and it doesn’t work the same, i only exist when seen. something about knowing other people are reading forces me to look at my own thoughts objectively. it gets me out of my head, just a little, when nothing else does.
yes. my hyper-awareness of an audience has the invaluable side effect of making me look at my thoughts and feelings and self with a critical eye. which leads directly to sanity, with me. it does. it can. it has always, before.
i’m such an idiot for not seeing it sooner. i could’ve fixed it if i had seen outside of myself, and outside of how nostalgia-sad it made me to think of not being seen. because i already felt attention-starved, and just, ughhh. file under ‘things i will always feel soul-crushing regret over’
not just normal human flawed I know we’re ALL flawed
i don’t think i’m “special” (it totally sounds like i do though, i know, i hear it)
i just manage to do so much damage to my own life and the lives of others, repeatedly, when i don’t try to and i in fact know what i’m capable of and am desperate to avoid it and yet EVERY FUCKING TIME i ruin the things that are important to me
and i don’t see most other people destroying their own lives on a regular basis, you know? everyone has flaws and problems because the world is an imperfect place, but i am my biggest problem
my other problems aren’t very world ending, they’re just sucky things
i am the massive life-destroying hopelessness-creating problem
“To be borderline is to have little sense of who you are or what turns you on. At its extreme, it may mean having to turn to others for cues in order to know when to eat or drink, work or rest, or even laugh or cry. It may mean intensely embracing a person, idea, or thing one day, and having no use at all for it the next. This lack of a constant picture of one’s self, one’s values, or one’s passions is at the heart of the borderline personality. Imagine floating randomly through space without any sense of up or down and without a map to show you either your origin or destination. To be borderline means to lack grounding emotionally and to exist from moment to moment without any sense of continuity, predictability, or meaning. Life is experienced in fragments, more like a series of snapshots than a moving picture. It is a series of discreet points of experience that fail to flow together smoothly or to create an integrated whole.”—Lost in the Mirror: An Inside Look at Borderline Personality Disorder (via shitborderlinesdo)
"…to lack grounding emotionally and to exist from moment to moment without any sense of continuity, predictability, or meaning."
i’m having this significant flashback to a series of moments where i realized that this could easily become a crazy + person who attracts crazy scenario and of ignoring that knowledge because there’s a reason we do the same things over and over again even though they hurt us. because ‘this is different’ which really means ‘this feels good, and the other times didn’t feel good at all’ conveniently ignore-forgetting that they all felt good at first, but it all ends here. with the emptiness and pieces of a life you never felt belonged to you and internal shattering sadness.
i know right? i have actually really enjoyed watching don draper’s descent into reality - which is really what it is, he was always an alcoholic cheater slash shitty dad, he just managed to bullshit his way through before, i feel like. but, there’s something satisfying about it, and sort of comforting. i don’t know what that says about me.
i mean, the controlling dismissive contained hostility thing that he really sold earlier in the show will always be wrong-attractive, ‘cause i’m fucked up. but the descent is different fascinating.
also of course, my real joy in that scene was sally’s pent up hurt coming out all bitter and venom-y after time spent doing surface pleasantries bs and acting like everything is fine.
"do you know how hard it was for me to go to your apartment? i could’ve run into that woman. i could be in the elevator, and she could get in, and i’ll have to stand there, smiling, wanting to vomit while i smell her hairspray"
one of the reasons i’ve been getting really high to fall asleep is it makes me eat, sometimes. like right now i am probably going to make popcorn when i get up to pee, and that’s the first time eating has seemed like an option today. that’s something.
a thing i'm saying only because no one involved is going to read it, and i need to process this thought out loud
i am not sure if ‘this person, and seeing things about this person, makes me feel very insecure and very bad about myself because they are clearly better and saner than me and i hate myself a lot, and i sometimes unfairly, shittily, and all-around inappropriately express that with passive-aggression and saying things like, i wish I didn’t have to see that, I wish this person wouldn’t comment on things that involve me, etc. (and again yes shittily for sure)’ translates to ‘I am making this person feel unsafe’. the one thing i am always pretty clear on is it’s me i hate. but also when i say “i’m not sure” i mean that. i don’t know if it’s a logical next step, or if i’m being not purposefully at all but in effect kind of painted into the dangerous crazy girl role.
the worst thing i’ve ever done in relation to her is make a tumblr post about how I felt really shitty and insecure when she commented on something on facebook. because i’m really insecure and shitty.
that’s the high point. that’s as bad as it ever got. i made no secret of my feelings but was it objectively threatening? i really don’t know. i wish i could know.
because i don’t want to deny anything real and i want to know if it really was as such because i want to be able to learn from my mistakes, fully but being written off as the scary crazy girl is a real thing, it’s a very real thing and it’s a real valid fear. and i don’t know what to trust and i hate it.