I don't want this. I don't want to be less close. I don't want to not be sexual with you. I don't want to not sleep with you. I don't want to not be held by you. I don't want to not be able to touch you. I don't want to set up barriers that I don't have with other friends. Thinking about it makes me crumble. Just thinking about it already seems to be putting distance between us, distance I don't want. I don't know how to be close to you without these things. I don't even want to know at this point. I'm not sure I can will myself to want to know right now. You say that nothing has to be decided right now, that nothing between us needs to change right now, but it's all I can think about. And as I sit here alone, all I can think is that I'm never going to be held again and how I'm losing my closest relationship.
I want to not want you the way that I do, when it's not reciprocated. I want to be able to do the same things I do with my other friends, from which I don't catch feelings. I want to just be able to enjoy it. I want things to be non-confrontational for more than just one weekend. I want to not be the problem that needs to be solved.
And I want someone else. I want a lover and partner who loves me back, who has my back, and who isn't just the runner-up to you. I want to feel like I'm not alone. I want someone I don't have to feel like I'm "on" all the time with, but who can challenge me when I want it or need it. I want a dynamo in the sack and in conversation. I want someone I don't feel judged by and who I don't have to feel only wants a "better" me. I want to find someone who wants me that I think is worth wanting.
I wish I felt less like this:
The XX-Chained:I watched you breathe in and I wished you'd stop, only for long enough, long enough. It's hard to say, separate or combine. I ask you one last time, Did I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough light in? If a feeling appears, If your mind should sway, It's not a secret you should keep. I won't let you slip away. We used to be closer than this. We used to be closer than this. We used to get closer than this. Is it something you missed? Winged or chained, I ask you would you have stayed? Did I hold you too tight? Did I not let enough light in?
And more like this:
Muse-Madness: I can't get these memories out of my mind and some kind of madness has started to evolve. I tried so hard to let you go, but some kind of madness is swallowing me whole. I have finally seen the light, and I have finally realized what you mean. And now, I need to know is this real love or is it just madness keeping us afloat? And when I look back at all the crazy fights we had, like some kind of madness was taking control. And now I have finally seen the light, and I have finally realized what you need. And now I have finally seen the end and I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light. I have finally realized I need to love. Come to me. Trust in your dream. Come on and rescue me. Yes I know, I can be wrong. Maybe I'm too headstrong. Our love is madness. Oh, wait, no that guy wants a reconciliation too. I thought that what he realized what that ze would be better off without him and their fucked up relationship, but obviously not. What the fuck is it with all this music? Can I not find a song where people are just happily broken up? I really didn't think I'd still feel like I was in a perpetual state of trying to get over you after...what? 6? 7 years? Gods, this shit is getting so fucking old. Even I hate how what a whiny emo bitch I'm being at this point. And if getting under someone else really got you over someone, well, then I should be long over you.
(Her:) Boy it's been all this time and I can't get you off my mind and nobody knows it but me.I stare at your photograph, still sleep in the shirt you left, and nobody knows it but me. Everyday I wipe my tears away. So many nights I've prayed for you to say, I should've been chasing you. I should've been trying to prove that you were all that mattered to me.I should've said all the things that I kept inside of me and maybe I could've made you believe that what we had was all we'd ever need.(Him:) My friends think I'm moving on, but the truth is I'm not that strong and nobody knows it but me. And I've kept all the words you said in a box underneath my bed and nobody knows it but me. But if you're happy I'll get through somehow, but the truth is that I've been screaming out, I should've been chasing you(Her:) You should've been trying to prove that(Him:) you were all that mattered to me.(Her:) Oh you should've said all the things(Him:) That I kept inside of me.(Her:) And maybe you could've made me believe(Him:) That what we had girl (Both:) Oh that what we had, what we had it was all we'd ever need.
I'm not sure I can do it anymore. I've spent the last 12 years of my life trying to make him love me in the same way and as much as I love him. There were maybe 2 months in which he did and those were a decade ago.
He might be the person I'm closest to now, that I feel the strongest connection with, but not my best friend because he'll never really be my friend. He'll always be the one that got away.
http://youtu.be/xwCkNlhukhE
Julie Roberts "Unlove Me" Unloose this hold you've got on me. Unlock this heart that can't get free...Unlove me. Unmake all the memories I can't forget. Unlove me. Let me go back to the way I was before we met...Unlove me. Untie all the strings between your heart and mine. Unlove me, but do it real slow, so I don't have to lose you all at one time.
My head knows we'll never be together, knows his reasons and that they won't change, even knows the reasons he probably isn't what I need, but my heart doesn't care.
Everything between us feels colored by my love for him, by our past relationship. It's hard when it feels like we play at a relationship over weekend holidays, but I'll never be his "real" girlfriend/partner/wife. Even if we didn't have sex or sleep together in same bed, just how close we are, how well we know each other, our conversations, still feel like a romantic love relationship.
Even after all the times this has played out, he still seems surprised. But, as we talked in the dark, some of the things that I said surprised me as well. Like how much trying to get over him, trying not to want to be with him, influenced my own 'summer of love' and even marrying BT.
http://youtu.be/TGFgHZO_ueE
Ani DiFranco "Napoleon"
Now you think, 'So that's the way it's gonna be. That's what this is all about.' I think that 'that's the way it always was. You chose not to notice until now.'
Every time this happens, my heart breaks all over again, as if it was the first time, but his doesn't, because it's him who gets what he wants. And, though it's not fair, every time it happens, I hate him and resent him. I probably hate myself more though. But I still stay. He manages to forgive what I assume he sees as crazy emotional fluctuation and clingy ex shit. I decide that I'd rather have him like this than not at all.
http://youtu.be/j6wnsOBSJBo
Deana Carter "What Makes You Stay"
Don't have the strength to fight anymore or a reason not to leave. What makes you stay, when your world falls apart? What makes you try one more time, when it's not in your heart? At the end of your rope, when you can't find any hope, but you still look at him and say, "I just can't walk away." Tell me what makes you stay?
Two months ago, when his bad behavior was revealed and bit all of us in the ass, as he broke down, he was the weak one, the one begging, the one who had something to lose. I know that I got some satisfaction in that because it is usually me in that position and it felt good to have the upper hand for once. Now it's business as usual.
I left the shirt he was gonna let me take home, so i'd have one showing off our home team, on the bed, and the necklace he'd given me for our first Christmas and my ring on his nightstand, by his phone. After going in circles all last night, our faces shrouded in shadow, buy the stark light of day I saw that he felt powerless. Not weak, just unable to come up with anything to do to change it. "I'm supposed to be at work already.... We have to leave, but I'm not letting you go. ...I love you." Just not enough to try again, I thought.
http://youtu.be/XnABRPS37hk
Coheed and Cambria- "The Suffering"
If it was up to me, I would have never walked out. So, until the sun burns out, I hope you're waiting.
Driving as fast as I can away from the place I fear will always feel more like home than anywhere else in the world, no matter how long I'm gone, old habits bubble back to the surface. I want to push this car as fast as she'll go. Typing a draft of this blog post as I drive. All I've eaten today is this Mt. Dew beside me and it might be a liquid diet day. I want to hurt on the outside so I don't feel this hurt on the inside. I want to pay off my debt and disappear, take a new name and "I want a place to call my own where you have never been. I want to look around and know you won't be coming back again." http://youtu.be/eHVgmIhU00A
http://youtu.be/Mu0kze2w5mc
Ani Difranco- "Dilate"
When I say you sucked my brain out, the English translation is "I am in love with you, but it ain't no fun'. But I don't use words like love, 'cause words like that don't matter. ...The world is my oyster. You know, the road is my home. And I know that I'm better off alone.
But how can I really go when, in less than six hours time, I have already had to stop myself from contacting you so many times? And not about this, but about good things going on in my life. That I'm finally starting to feel this work as a grounding force, as something I want to grab onto to keep from going under, rather than a nuisance stopping me from handling my business. That my assistant manager isn't as upset with me as I thought she was and is going to try to get me more hours this week while my client is on vacation. That some of the office work that the bosses want to talk to me about doing is HR work, which I've never done but they seem to think I might be good at. Hell, even that I got one mile per gallon more than my mom's best record on her car coming home. I can't stop looking for ways I can make staying work.
http://youtu.be/Gwx4iTRLXG8
Pink "Just Give Me a Reason"
(Her:) Oh tear ducts and rust.(Him:) I'll fix it for us.(Her:) We're collecting dust, but our love's enough.(Him:) You're holding it in.(Her:) You're pouring a drink.(Him:) No nothing is as bad as it seems.(Her:) We'll come clean! (Both:) Just give me a reason. Just a little bit's enough. Just a second, we're not broken just bent and we can learn to love again. It's in the stars. It's been written in the scars of our hearts that we're not broken just bent and we can learn to love again.
http://youtu.be/pG8qkjI5bJQ
Sara Bareilles "Love on the Rocks"
Here's a simplification of everything we're going though: You plus me is bad news. But you're a lovely creation and I like to think that I am too, but my friend said I look better without you. Tongue tied and twisted, go on baby and go to my head. Babe, baby believe me, if I stay, it ain't gonna be easy. Okay, we'll do it your way, but this is the last time you'll hear the beautiful sound of love coming down. Love on the rocks.
(Yes, I can't even find songs that aren't about a romantic love relationship to illustrate my points. It's probably not a good sign.)
Having issues with blogger and can't embed at the moment. I will try to go back and fix things later.
You may ask yourself, how do I work this? You may ask yourself, where is that large automobile? You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife
Last night, I was leaving a sports bar, at a modest 10:30pm, on a night when I didn't have to work the next day, after Marci (pseudonym) bought me a drink and appetizer to commiserate on what would have been my five-year wedding anniversary, when I thought, "How did I get here?" And not in the negative way I'm used to. I've had a job for a couple of months. Things are going smoothly between me and my family. I spent a full weekend with Moneypenny without any arguments or anything too dramatic. And I'd just had a relatively new friend go out of her way on what was for her a school night to hang out with me on what could have been a really shitty day. It was like something out of Sex and the City. Well, the thought behind it, not the Midwestern sports bar setting. I don't currently have any out of control relationships. This is not my life. This is the life of a normal person. And it's freaking me out that it is also my life right now.
I tried to text with Moneypenny after this line of thinking started, but it only seemed to make things worse. His responses were "I guess that's the point, this CAN by your life" and "I'm very happy for you. Keep it up! :)" I'm sure that it seems like I'm ungrateful for his support, which isn't the case. It's just that... I don't want to have a normal life. One of my biggest worries in ever getting help for my psychiatric issues was that I was afraid that it would take away everything that made me me, that I'd be some shiny happy people Stepford wives chick. But every step of the way, when I've made improvements, I've found that I still wasn't that. But now I look up and all this work I've been doing to have a better life landed me in a normal life and all the things I've been thinking about doing down the road just make it more normal, when I do not think that normal = better. (Yes, I'm aware that my life isn't normal at this point, but it is as close to normal as I've had in a very long time, maybe even ever if you include having a lack of chaotic relationships.)
I guess what I was really looking for when I texted Moneypenny was some assurance that this "normal" life I was currently living didn't make me normal. That I could live a weird or un-ordinary life without it having to be out of control.
This week I bought the new Pink album The Truth About Love. I'd usually liked her singles, but had never owned anything by her. Then, last week, I saw her perform her new single "Blow Me (One Last Kiss)" on the Daily Show and I read an interview with her in Entertainment Weekly so when the full album came up for cheap, I thought "What the hell?" Though I really like it, I must confess that it's been a trip down BPD-colored romantic relationship memory lane.
One of the toughest parts of therapy is finding out that all the ways you've felt and interacted with the world is not just wrong, but is also completely foreign to most of the population. In no area is this more glaring than in love relationships. Now that I'm more aware of those things, it's interesting when I do see it in others, when I recognize that kinship. In the interview with Pink, when talking about keeping good relationships with the people she writes her painfully honest songs about, she seemed to laugh it off, saying that it's the people we love the most and who know us the best who can piss us off the most, that we only feel that intensely when we care that much, but that those people in her life feel just as strongly back. I have always felt that how much a person could push one's buttons was a reflection of how one felt about that person. If that person can't make you see red, whether in anger or in bed, you don't really love them. Even though therapy has given me the skills to not act on it (as much), I think I'll always feel that way, deep down inside. It doesn't matter how much my reasonable mind knows that it's a fucked up way to be and a fucked up way to carry out a relationship, it's still how my emotional mind and my heart feel and react to the world.
That makes me question my dating future. What if my sexual self can never be attracted to men or women who are good for me, who don't set off my crazy meter? I want a teammate and a partner, but I'm scared about trying to find that, even if I felt like I had enough time and energy right now to pursue it.
Without even pursuing any other relationships, in my present, things are fucked up enough. For as much as I love this song:
it does nothing but remind me of my relationship to/with Moneypenny, past and present, as well as a little bit of my relationship with TyRoy. ...There's no one quite like you. You push all my buttons down. I know life would suck without you. At the same time I want to hug you, I want to wrap my hands around your neck. You're an asshole but I love you and you make me so mad I ask myself why I'm still here, but where could I go? You're the only love I've ever known. But I hate you. I really hate you, so I think it much be true love...Nothing else could break my heart like true love...No one else could break my heart like you...Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be but without you I'm incomplete. My two closest friends are not just exes, but exes I still love, will always love, and who I don't exactly have the most functional relationships with, more one than the other. Thinking about my life without them is like thinking about my life without my parents, doable but not complete. But how can I have a primary romantic relationship with somebody else like this? And though I'm trying not to be that person anymore, BPD is like alcoholism- I might be sober, but I'll still always be an alcoholic. And I can't imagine that my next relationship with my next ol' man or ol' lady won't be as volatile as these have been. Or, sadly, I probably won't be with them for long.
I don't know how to be in love without it looking like this, feeling like this, being like this. I don't know how to feel close to people if they can't push my buttons. I can make as many spreadsheets as I want with the qualities I want to look for in people that I date, but, at the end of the day, I still grew up in a culture that presents crazy volatile romances as the only true love and in a family where we laughingly told stories of my grandparents' love, which usually involved her throwing cans at him during arguments or throwing his keys into a field while she drove off into the night. But it's not just the only way I've ever known. I've tried it without and it just doesn't do it for me, even if the end result usually looks something like this: White knuckles and sweaty palms from hanging on too tight. Clenched shut jaw, I've got another headache again tonight. Eyes on fire, eyes on fire, and they burn from all the tears. I've been crying, I've been crying, I've been dying over you. Tie a knot in the rope, tryin' to hold, tryin' to hold, but there's nothing to grasp so I let go. I think I've finally had enough. I think I maybe think too much. I think this might be it for us. Blow me one last kiss. You think I'm just too serious. I think you're full of shit. My head is spinning so blow me one last kiss. Just when it can't get worse, I've had a shit day. Have you had a shit day? We've had a shit day. I think that life's too short for this. I want back my ignorance and bliss. I think I've had enough of this. Blow me one last kiss.
So I don't have any answers. I love the Pink album. It's got me dancing in my driver's seat. And it is the funny, energetic soundtrack to all the dysfunctional impulses in sexual and romantic relationships I'm trying not to mindlessly enact anymore, but don't exactly know how to have those relationships without. I guess I'm just sharing it with ya'll.
"Were you sleeping? So what, were you planning on laying in bed all day?" the assistant manager asked, after calling me to talk me into working more.
"Yes. Yes, I was. I was planning on sleeping until I am actually scheduled to work," I replied. I wanted to add, "And that's none of your fucking business!" And with that, I wanted to just throw my hands up.
One of my favorite bloggers, who shares her research into BPD as well as her own experiences, recently did a series of posts about BPD and Jobs/Careers (Posts 1, 2, 3, and 4.) Now she has several engineering degrees and works a steady, high-intellect job, but has some of the same crazy thinking that I do when on the job. These are things that don't seem all that strange to me, because that's how I've always felt, but that most people in my life can't relate to. From post 2:
It can be tough. I see over and over how family and friends of people with BPD get down on those of us that have a harder time maintaining adequate employment. Inevitably what I see is, “She’s just lazy and refuses to get to work on time,” or, ”If he would just do [INSERT normal brain function that is impaired for us] it would be fine,”. There are plenty of other iterations but they all fall into the general category of: I don’t see why you can’t just grow up, be normal, and act like an “adult”.
Because we’re not “normal” (whatever that is).
Because there are a lot of things going on in our brains that make this whole “being an adult thing” kind of impaired. Like having the emotional development of a 3 year old. < ---- That’s actually what psychologists say. People with BPD tend to have a stunted emotional growth (often due to childhood trauma) which contributes to poor interpersonal development.
This isn’t a helpful attitude. I get that it’s shitty for the Nons in our life too, but this is not helpful. We’re not dysfunctional on purpose. We didn’t choose to have the chemical responses that cause our brains to freak the hell out. What we need is to learn the kind of coping mechanisms that will allow us to be more functional. Blaming and shaming pretty much just makes us feel even more worthless and even more angry. When you feel worthless and you’re super pissed about it, that’s not going to end well for anyone. Just sayin’.
Not helpful face. Full of snark. (not me)
So why is it so difficult for some people with BPD to have steady employment? (Some People – this isn’t true of everyone, but it’s common enough). Yanno all those things that hinder us in our day to day lives? Yeah those don’t magically go away when we punch in from 9a-5p (or 7a to 4p in my case). So now it’s even more important to hide it all. So why’s it so hard? ·Identity Issues·Paranoia·Criticism/Rejection·Splitting·Impulsive Behavior·Co-morbid symptoms·Poor Stress Response
I'm gonna guess that the above is how my step-dad, TyRoy, and probably even Moneypenny have looked at my work history. People just go to work. That's what you do. Unless you're some lazy, freeloading asshole. It's not all that hard. In my head, I can hear Moneypenny telling me that half of life is just showing up, as is much of graduating from college. But sometimes just showing up is hard. Then staying there can be even harder.
The getting a job and getting to the job like I'm supposed to get hampered by the "co-morbid symptoms" and the "poor stress responses." I get depressed about not having a job and it's harder to get motivated to apply for jobs. I have never been able to sleep when I was supposed to and being anxious about getting up on time for an early shift or about the job itself leads to rumination which leads to very little sleep. Then, I don't get up on time or sometimes I don't get up at all.
If only that was where my issues ended. There's also black and white thinking (what the blogger refers to as "splitting") and impulsive behavior.
Black and white.
“People with BPD may be more likely to view potential work situations in terms of extremes, idealizing each potential job or career choice as an opportunity like no other. A person with BPD may be blind to anything potentially negative or questionable about the job. This perspective can also hide potential difficulties in achieving the idealized goals. For instance, if Bruce were looking into certain sales positions, he would need to be able to clearly assess his ability to make cold calls and deal with the rejection from these calls (something that he is extremely sensitive to) in order to reap the rewards of the generous sales commission plan.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that particular example but I definitely know what it’s like to idealize and then demonize a particular job. Hell, I do it all the time. Ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong, nothing goes right, and all you can think about is the bad, atrocious things you have to do and put up with every single day? Sure. Everyone has. Now imagine those scenes from the day projected onto an I-MAX screen in 3-D magnified with surround sound replaying endlessly on repeated ruminations inside your own head. Everyone deals with it, but it feels extreme. And it’s impossible to remember the reasons to stay when you’re shrouded in the darkness from the day. I have plenty of days where I hate what I do. I have days where I love what I do and feel like I’m the king of the world wearing a clockwork crown of awesomeness. I rarely have days where I just feel content. I actually hate feeling like I’m not progressing. I hate the feeling of stagnation. I hate that sometimes you just have to keep plugging on, for what seems like an endless indefinite amount of time with no site of change.
For me, on a day like today, it feels impossible to remember the good things about the job. When you're settled with a client and things are going well, you don't talk to the main office very often. My client, his wife, and I are in a nice little groove and things are going well. But I'd also worked with another client, his family likes me, and the office e-mailed me to see if I could sub in for his current caregiver. But I'm fine with the number of hours I have right now, which I haven't been able to convey to the office. I was planning on emailing them back this afternoon, until the assistant manager called me before I even woke up this morning. Every time they call me about working with another client, I feel so much pressure. I feel like I'm letting them and the other client down if I say no. I feel like I'm going to be judged if I just tell the truth, which is that I don't really need to work 40 hours, that I'm happy getting 60 hours over a two week pay period. And, as they usually call me when I'm half asleep or stressing about something else, I am not really "with it" enough to firmly explain myself and turn them down. Then, all I can think about is how much this sucks, how I hate this pressure, how I've ended up working more hours than I want or need because I couldn't turn them down, how I won't have enough time to myself to decompress and destress in between shifts.
This leads to the rumination. All I've been thinking for the past twelve hours is "I can't fucking do this. I'm so fucking done. Done, done, done, done, done." Which quickly leads to "How can I not do this? This work thing that people find so easy, that most people can do every day, forty hours a week, more than forty hours, that so many people all over this country are busting their as looking for, how can I not do this? What the fuck is wrong with me that I want to just give up on a job that I actually really like, that is rewarding for me, and most people would love to have?" Then, I get even more freaked out thinking about the near future. This job has made me contemplate getting schooling in this field, but I know that many jobs, most jobs, in this field require 12 hour work days in much stressful situations than the one I'm currently in. How am I going to be able to do that if I can barely do this? Which leads to being freaked out about the future, even longer term. I can't make a living doing this, especially with no certification. So what am I going to do? Though I know this might make most people more resolved to work harder, I just don't have much fight left in me. It just makes me want to give up.
Which usually leads me to impulsive behavior. I attempt to take back my power, either through acting out in my private life, which usually bleeds through to negatively effect my work life, or by lashing out, even just quitting, at work.
One of the problems with having impulsivity as a part of the way your brain reacts is that by definition, there’s no time given to consider consequences. When you’re faced with a scenario that makes you feel threatened (paranoia, stress) that fight or flight response kicks in. Adrenaline pumps, fear chokes you, and all there is to do is react. When you have a disorder that is marked by emotional dysregulation (a.k.a. impulsive emotional responses) controlling those emotional responses is extremely difficult, if not impossible, if we haven’t learned how.
For example, receiving criticism in the work place can trigger a fear or anger response leading to vocal attacks or quitting on the spot. Hearing something, being in a situation, where you feel like your job is threatened, you become paranoid that you’re going to get fired, so instead of letting someone do something to you, take that control away from you, humiliate you, it’s better to take action, make the decision yourself, quit on the spot… except less thought out and more emotionally charged.
I had a very unrewarding job as the cashier at a valet stand. One particularly busy Saturday night, the bosses decided to hover over my stand. Not just my immediate manager, but the bosses of my boss's boss. The company didn't have a very good way of keeping track of the keys in relation to the tickets and I was getting really frustrated by the end of the night as more people came back for the cars. My bosses were pushing me to go faster, while not actually helping at all. Finally, in frustration, in front of a group of customers, I told one of them to just give me goddamn minute. Yeah. That didn't go over well. Instead of just apologizing and hoping that it might blow over, I took my employer-issued shirt, tossed it at my manager, and walked off the job. That job doesn't go on the resumes.
Not all my decisions to quit are that impulsive, but they aren't usually that well thought out either. I've never had a job for over a year, I've rarely given a two week notice, and I've only ever once had a job before I quit the previous one. If it wasn't for the fact that I'd be leaving my client(s) high and dry, I probably would have already quit this job in one of my freak-out sessions. And if I hadn't been working on the DBT skills for a year. Hell, if I hadn't been half asleep, I'd probably have said everything I wanted to say to the assistant manager, then I'd have added paranoia to my ruminations.
I know that other people have much more difficult lives than I do, much more difficult jobs than I do, much more difficult bosses than I do. I know that they do it everyday and don't bitch half as much as this. I don't want to discount them and I don't want to say that "normal" people don't have these same thoughts. I really have no idea. But what I now know that I didn't know until those posts was that any other people felt like I do. While group has shown me that I'm not alone in some of my fucked up thinking, most of those people are actually firmly employed and, as it's an education group not a process group, I don't hear as much about what goes on in their heads in relation to their jobs. Reading her blog posts gave me a window into the thoughts of another person who felt those same things, but the fact that she is steadily employed gave me hope.
Yesterday, getting into my car, it smelled like it always used to when it was her car. That is to say, it smelled like a perfume of cigarette smoke. Not lingering smoke, like someone had just smoked in the car, but like how everything in a smoker's house smells, if they'd been gone a couple of days, the way that scent seems to have seeped into every bit of fabric. I always leave my car windows rolled down while I'm at work, so it's a bit cooler when I get into the car and there must have been some combination of the temperature and the rain the sky was threatening that unlocked the last little bits of that fragrance. My grandma refusing to be forgotten. As if I ever could.
Today, as I pulled out of the drive at work, there was a Mazda 626, the car of my client's friend. He'd had one of those. Actually, one summer, he had one and his (now ex-)wife (or was she his girlfriend then? I can't remember) each had one. One of the 626s was yellow and we managed to "lose" it in the parking lot after a concert. Turns out we parked much farther away than we remembered. I made it all the way onto the highway before I started crying and even then it was only a few tears. That must be some kind of record.
I do not know how to communicate how this feels, not even to myself. I only know how it does feel. I know that when I start to think "Will this ever get better?" I can look back at how I felt when the losses occurred and know that it does not feel that same way anymore, though it is difficult for me to label the difference as "better." It is not as intense, not as overwhelming, not as painful, not as likely to lead me to disassociate from my feelings, more manageable. So I guess most people would say that it is better, but just because something is brighter than black does not necessarily mean it is light.
I thought that I would heal, that all these breaks were clean. A painful reset, a good bit of time in a cast, but then I'd be almost as good as new, except for some pain when a storm rolled through. And with my grandparents, I am. I miss them, but it feels... like it was what should be. I thought by now that I would be more at peace with more with my uncle's death, that I would be more healed. "People love that cliche: time heals all wounds. But live long enough and you realize that most cliches are true. It's amazing what even the smallest passages of time can accomplish, the cuts it can close, the imperfections it can smooth over. But in the end, it comes down to the size of the wound, doesn't it? If the wound is deep enough, there might be no way to keep it from festering, even if you have all the time in the world." I no longer feel like I walk through life an open wound, raw nerves constantly exposed, but I don't think that the pieces will ever fit back together or that the wound will ever truly heal.
And it is hard when you feel like the people around you just wish you would get over it already. Don't get me wrong, I know that some of them wish that I was "over it" because they don't want me to be in pain, though I'm sure some of them feel that they are "over it" and I should be too, while still others are just tired of hearing about it. How do you tell them that you'll never be "over it" without them taking that to mean that you'll always be the same brand of basketcase that you were at the funeral or are at memorials and death-anniversaries? And how do you tell them that everyday you are more accepting of, even alright with, the fact that you'll never be "over it," that you'll never be who you were, that there will always be something missing because the person who is gone is missing? "Who can say if I have been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good."
I think that I should be sad, that this should be painful. Pain and sadness are natural responses to hurt and loss. I think that feeling those emotions tells us how much we hurt, that what we lost meant something to us. I don't think that anyone should go through life pain and sadness free. Now, suffering is the thing we're supposed to be working to reduce. I'm not sure that the people who know me think I'm doing the best job at that either, but, meh, it's a work in progress. The point is that I don't feel like it shouldn't be painful to be without those I love, that I shouldn't be a bit sad when I remember them. Like when I see a Mazda 626.
The sound of the rain on the window is cited in books, poems, and songs. But I've never personally met someone who shared a fondness for it quite like I do. Never came upon a lover with their head against a window, tears of rain rolling down the other side. Never looked for a friend in the house, only to find them outside, with a drink or cigarette, enjoying the coolness, just looking out. I would be that person, if anyone ever came looking for me when I slipped out. Maybe, like many other things, those are affectations only found in movies.
I used to think I wanted someone like that. But if one has to have my baggage to appreciate the rain this way, then maybe i'd rather not.
I can hear the rain come down, I can listen with my heart I can see with both eyes closed in the dark Sleep will come in just a while but till it does I choose To listen to the rain, it's the rhythm of the blues
I walk along these streets of home that once belonged to us And now baby I walk alone and I am lost In the sound of my own footsteps on the avenues I guess I'm only walking to rhythm of the blues
I don't wanna hear another word spoken, I don't wanna see another tear shed I can't seem to fix what's broken, like this record baby in my head
Lonely looks as bad on me as lonely looks on you And still we keep on moving to the rhythm of the blues
I want a place to call my own, where you have never been I wanna look around and know you won't be coming back again On some pretense paper-thin that I can see right through You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues...
I can't seem to help other people without also digging into my own life, my own past, my own motivations, my own soul. In our current situation, where everyone keeps asserting that I did nothing wrong, even the person who did me wrong asserts it, it would seem like it would only be that person who's soul would be laid bare, but I can't help him, help us, if I don't understand him, and I can't understand him until I grasp the differences between us.
One of the big issues in this whole thing is lying. Look, I've watched enough soap operas and tv dramas to know the reasons that people lie. But on a personal level, it's much more difficult for me to understand. Maybe it's because I am so familiar with those soap operas and tv dramas and I know what the results are of lying and secret-keeping.
For those who don't know, I've been struggling with mental illness for as long as I can remember. What sticks out most in my mind is the sadness. From the time I was 12 or so, I remember that, unless I was secretly reading under the covers, I cried every night. I felt like I couldn't tell anyone. I knew that when I cried but couldn't explain why, hell even when I could explain why, I was told to get it together, that I was being too emotional, looked at like a freak. As if I didn't already have enough that made me feel like a freak. But I longed to tell someone. I played out the conversation over and over again in my mind. When my uncle and I had to share a room when my family visited, I laid awake at night going over and over what I would tell him when I woke him up and told him how overwhelmingly sad I was all the time. I never did though.
I was never very good at keeping secrets or having much of a sense of privacy. A lifetime of watching those "very special episodes" where a secondary character comes out of the closet with the help and support of one of the main (straight) characters taught me that the shame was in it being a secret, not what the secret was, and that anyone who made you feel differently should be kicked right the fuck out of your life. The only other kind of secrets, or things one lied about, were when one did something wrong, knowingly transgressed, and that seemed to have an easy solution- to not do wrong.
In the recent troubles, this other person told me that he was very afraid of disappointing people because then they would dislike him and then they would leave him. So he lied. But the lying isolated him from any help or support he might get from those he loved and was so afraid of disappointing. While I could technically understand that, personally it feels completely foreign to me.
My biological father left my life when I was five. By the time I was nine, I knew that it was absolutely his choice that he was not in my life. Right around that time, a few other people in my life also died. Not people I was terribly close to, but people I knew. My friends started to move away, their parents choosing to move them to even farther, and thus safer, suburbs as they entered middle school. This is when I realized that everyone leaves. Whether they choose to or not, everyone leaves.
I'm learning that some of the crazy behavior that bpd's exhibit within relationships stem from abandonment issues. When bdp's manipulate, lie, bareknuckle it to keep a person in their life, it's because we are so afraid that they are going to leave us. But, as crazy as it seems, on the flip side, when we do things that we know will push people away, we are doing it because we are so afraid that they are going to leave us that we do the dirty work for them.
As I grew up, of course, I was afraid of disappointing the people that I loved. I worked my ass of in school to prove that I was worthy of the love of my parents and to not disappoint them. When I got a new friend, or wanted someone to be my friend, I would learn as much as I could about what they liked so that they would like me, or like me more. I tried to always be the friend who was there anytime they had a crisis, because then it was even more important to not disappoint. But if someone was going to leave me anyway, they should at least know who they were leaving. I might have learned about stuff that they liked, but I also tried to be me as much as possible, often as loudly and even offensively as possible. I often made it downright impossible to love me and stay with me. But if a person did stay, then I felt like that meant that they really did love me and accept me, all of me. Still, there was always the irrefutable truth that they would eventually leave, even if it was not their choice. That knowledge can be very freeing, though. It allowed me to do all kinds of things, be all kinds of things, fuck up in all kinds of ways, because, unlike my friend, I wasn't overwhelmed by a fear that those I loved would leave me.
My friend had an intact and functional family. One of his sets of grandparents lived just down the street. His family lived in the same house from his early grade school days. Other than a beloved grandparent, I don't think he's lost someone close to him from his life that wasn't his choice to this day. While that's a place I'm very envious of, always have been very envious of, it also means that he doesn't know what it's like to live through those kinds of loss and come out on the other side, to know that you can be left and survive. And it's not a lesson I was able to bring myself to teach him this time.
I don't know if it's like this for everyone, but I suspect that for most people it is. When I met TyRoy, the marriage he would have done anything to keep together, did everything he could to keep together, was ending. He told me that he wasn't going to change for anyone and that if someone wanted something different they could keep walking. He was blatantly boldly honest about who he was, what he wanted, the things he knew he couldn't do for others people, for a relationship, and didn't care if I or other people thought that made him a bad person. Before writing this post, I asked him a little lying that he did in his past. Though the reasons he gave for lying in previous relationships were his own, different that what I might have assumed, he did write "most people are more afraid of the loss not the lie." I'd still posit that he couldn't be as honest as he is now if he hadn't gone through such a great loss and come out on the other side of it knowing that even even losses that great, that painful, do not kill you.
But if I weren't leaving you, I don't know what I would do. But the more I go, the less I know- will the fire still burn on my return? Keep the path lit on the only road I know. Honey, all I know to do is go.
I have hazy memories of either singing this to you, sending you the lyrics, or at least thinking it in reference to us during a period when I was moving so we could be together, ending the year we'd spent in a long-distance relationship. I remember wanting to express to you, a young man with no desires to live anywhere other than the metro area where you grew up, the restlessness I had always felt.
Coming back from our whirlwind Vegas wedding trip, I played this for BT, feeling like I'd finally found someone who understood that desire to go.
Looking back at it all now, I'm not sure if what I thought was a desire to go wasn't really just the impulse to run away. But, as the saying goes, wherever you go, there you are.
I'm not sure if it's age or experience or the therapy, but I feel that desire receding. I still want to see so much more of the world than I have at this point. I still want to live in other, bigger cities, not just visit them on rushed tourist-y vacations. But if I got offered the chance to live in the city I was born in again, even if I knew I'd never live in a different city again, I'd jump at that chance in a heartbeat. But because I love it, not because I'm running to or away from anything.
I'm about a month into a new job and I don't feel like running yet. Don't get me wrong. I don't see myself doing this job forever and I'm already looking to what the next goals I might set for myself could be. But I'm not frustratingly wondering when I'll be able to move on to a different, better career. Hell, when I'm on the job, unless I have something really special planned, I'm not counting down the minutes. I feel good about being there, in the moment, and doing this job, right now.
Yesterday, things kinda blew up between us. There was a part of me that screamed that I should just toss you out on your ass, "ok, it's done. He fucked up in the one way you said that you wouldn't abide. That's his last chance. It's over. Wash your hands of this." And I've said that maybe we should stop working so hard on being friends, that maybe it shouldn't be this hard, numerous times in the past year and a half, over much less serious issues than this. But this time, I just couldn't bring myself to say those words, with really bringing up the possibility that this should be over.
Maybe it was because that seems to let you off too easily. Maybe it was because you seemed so...broken and genuinely sorry. But maybe it's just that I don't want to run anymore. I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened, but I want to face my life. Open arms and open eyes.
None of this is to say that it doesn't hurt, because it really fucking does, or that there shouldn't be consequences and rebuilding after something like this. It isn't even to say that we'll be able to be the kind of friends that we want to be to each other, because I just can't promise that that is possible. I've said numerous times in this blog and in real life that I consider you family, someone that you are there for when they need you, even if the everyday relationship is too fucked up to do. But there have been many rather benign times in the past when being there for family was something I forced myself to do, when what I really wanted to do, what I did as soon as I got the chance to do, was run. Things don't feel like that anymore.
My heart's in pieces so please understand, I'm trying to jump, but I've nowhere to land. So give me your heart and I'll give you my hand and try as goddamn hard as I can. The hill I'm walking up is getting good and steep but I'm still looking for a promise even I [can] keep.
I remember when I was 18 and Moneypenny was trying to convince me to take meds for my depression. My biggest fear was that I wouldn't be me anymore. I had spent all my life feeling like I had. I thought that how I felt was just me. Six weeks later, when the meds finally hit, it was kinda the same feeling that I had when I got my first pair of glasses. I hadn't realized how blurry everything had been before. Each time I get a new med that works better, things come into focus more. That doesn't mean that everything is peachy-keen. It doesn't mean that all, or any, of my flaws have disappeared. It just brings a bit more clarity, a bit more control over and space between me and my emotions.
When you're dealing with mental illness, trying to become a better person, learning that your bad behavior was a result of a larger pattern in your mental illness that you can and should break, it's tough to figure out what was you and what wasn't. It's also difficult to explain, not just to others but also to yourself, that while you did what you did in the mental illness you still need to own it, make amends, and change. I often compare it to addiction. An addict has a disease that they need treatment for. Much of their personality and actions change. When they are in recovery, they are closer to who they are, but that doesn't mean that they didn't do what they did before, it doesn't absolve them of guilt. It means that they need to make amends, make positive changes in their life, and continue to manage their disease. I do too. I know I did more shitty things when I was more unwell than I do today. (I still do shitty things. We all do.) But I have to keep making an effort to put my actions in line with the person I think I am and then with the person I want to be.
This song really hits home on that and I hope that my loved ones know that wasn't me.
Hang on, just hang on for a minute I've got something to say I'm not asking you to move on or forget it But these are better days To be wrong all along and admit it's not amazing grace But to be loved like a song you remember Even when you've changed
Tell me did I go on a tangent? Did I lie through my teeth? Did I cause you to stumble on your feet? Did I bring shame on my family? Did it show when I was weak? Whatever you see, that wasn't me That wasn't me, that wasn't me
When you're lost you will toss every lucky coin you'll ever trust And you will hide from your god like he never turns his back on us And you will fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife But you'll learn who you are even if it doesn't take your life
Tell me Did I go on a tangent? Did I lie through my teeth? Did I cause you to stumble on your feet? Did I bring shame on my family? Did it show when I was weak? Whatever you see, that wasn't me That wasn't me, that wasn't me
But I want you to know that you'll never alone I wanna believe
Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet When you fall I will get you on your feet Do I spend time with my family? Does it show when I am weak? When that's what you see, that will be me That will be me, that will be me That will be me
Most of the time, I can accept and deal with the fact that I don't believe what most other people believe and that I'm interested in things that most of my other friends aren't. And I don't want to live unchallenged. But sometimes, especially when I'm really excited about something, I really wish that I could get someone else to at least pretend to be excited about it. Or at the very least not be determined to pick apart every godsdamn thing. Can't you people let me enjoy anything without telling me how wrong I am?
I know it's contrary to most of the other thinks I say, but... I'm just so frustrated with everyone shooting down everything I get excited about lately. It just makes me not want to share anything. Maybe I should choose friends who aren't competitive at all, but I end up feeling like all that really matters is that they are right, not that I want share something I think is really cool or fun or interesting. I'm used to disinterest, which is what I usually get, but lately all I've gotten is everyone trying to tear it down.
I'd like to say that I think I'm just going to not talk for awhile, but we all know that isn't true.
It seems like people are always doing awful things. Each time they do, everyone else searches for the reason(s) why. The farther out of your own realm of experience, the farther what that person did from what you feel you could possibly do, the easier it is to see them as an "other," talk about them as the "other," as someone completely foreign to you and the world you live in. While I understand this impulse, feel it myself in many situations, I feel myself wanting to scream out about just how hurtful this can be to the "other" who isn't an other, to the people you know and love who might also be different in the way that you're dismissing the "other" as being.
After the murders in Aurora, CO, there has been a vacuum as to the motives behind why this killer did this, which I have heard many fill with the words damaged, crazy, or insane. Few that I've read use these words are interested in exploring these issues further, but instead use it in a dismissive way. "Why are we asking any questions about why he might have done this? Clearly he is damaged/crazy/insane." That's it. The story ends there for them. To me, it also seems to imply that the arrow works both ways. Not only did he do these things because he is damaged/crazy/insane/whatever word they chose, but people who are damaged/crazy/insane/etc do things like this, so what can you do? Let's all just throw our hands up and say that it's got nothing to do with me. But that implication hurts people like me, people like those that I know and love, people that I'm sure are present in everyone's lives, people who are damaged or crazy or insane. And, yes, if you read this (or any of my blog posts for that matter), thinking that it sounds like I'm angry, that's because I am. Nothing wrong with a bit of anger now then. Dismissing me because of my tone also means erasing my voice, my experience, my life.
So I'm going to try to take things one by one. Let's look at "damaged." I read someone in the rather civil comment thread to this post say that the shooter was "clearly mentally and emotionally damaged, and almost assuredly was born that way" Asserting that someone was damaged from birth makes me ask if this damage is something that can be tested for, if this damage always leads to violent behavior like this, and, if so, what the commenter thinks society should do with people who test positive for this kind of "damage." I think that the more common use of the term "damaged" to describe someone who has committed an atrocity like this is that the trauma they have experienced in life has had such a profound effect that they are, if not broken, then severely impaired, in a way that leads them to commit these acts. So, the short of it is "people get fucked up when bad shit happens to them." Alright. That's true. If bad shit didn't happen to these people, they probably wouldn't have done these things. But bad shit happens to everyone. Some people get out mostly unscathed. Some people develop mental health issues as a result of that bad shit, especially when combined with "damage" they were born with. I've met many people when I was hospitalized and people in my group therapy who have all had bad shit happen to them and been fucked up by it. I think that most of us would be insulted if you implied that we'd ever do something like what happened in Aurora. I also think that those people's loved ones would argue with you if you said that they would do something like this because of the trauma they've suffered. So where do you draw the line between what bad shit or the extent of the bad shit that happens and when you automatically commit mass homicide? And how much does that allow you to not attempt to deal with the person or the trauma they've been through, because, well, the damage is done?
Before I go into talking about the "crazy" label, I want to jump forward to quickly cover the "insane" label. Insanity is no longer in scientific or mental use, but is only legal terminology, referring to a person cannot tell right from wrong, or fantasy from reality. The perpetrator may very well have been insane, but very few mentally ill people who commit crimes are eligible for an insanity defense, as most mentally ill people still know right from wrong. I know that for most people it is impossible to think believe that someone who knows right from wrong could do something like this, but there is often an internal logic to the perpetrator which precludes an insanity ruling. Of course, most of the time when a person uses the term "insane," they aren't referring to legal terminology at all.
Closely related to both "damaged" and "insane," in fact what I think many people mean when they use those words to describe someone, is mentally ill or crazy. (I've written before about my own ambivalence about the current way that mental illness is treated, as well as the ways others are trying to reframe it. And, personally, I often use "crazy" to describe myself and behaviors that are closely linked to how my mental illness is exhibited, but I think of it as more of a reclaimed word than the word I think should be used by the general public.) The NAMI website states: "Mental illnesses are medical conditions that disrupt a person's thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning." I think that it is safe to say that at least a few of those things would seem to be true of the anyone who did something like this, but, even if mental illness is an underlying reason, it is unfair to paint the whole of mentally ill people with that brush. Mental illness is such an overarching term for a wide variety of diagnoses which means that it includes a multitude of individuals who are just trying to live their lives the best they can. The majority of schizophrenics are not the homeless man, mumbling to himself. The majority of bipolar people aren't...well, whatever stereotype people have for us, especially after there's a widely publicized crime perpetrated by someone who has been diagnosed as bipolar. You get the picture. This erases the way that the majority of people experience mental illness, the majority of whom are law-abiding upstanding citizens. During my hospitalizations and experiences in treatment, I don't think I've ever met a felon. If my fellow patients had committed any crimes, even those in the hospital that was used by the cops as a dumping place for people that they picked up off the street but had dubious grounds or not enough room to hold in jail, they were misdemeanors- property destruction, petty theft, drug use, getting into fights- not causing serious premeditated harm to others. Even then, it is few and far between. I think that most of the people I've met during hospitalizations or in group therapy would be offended by the assumption that they are criminals as a result of their mental illness.
Another big problem with dismissing the perpetrator as mentally ill is that it dismisses the idea that something more could be done to help mentally ill people, particularly this person. I think that there is a debate to be had about the benefits of long-term (often involuntary) in-patient (including commitment) treatment versus outpatient treatment, but currently those are both options that are proving too costly for most people, families, and even communities, especially in this economic downturn. As was pointed out after a mentally-ill man, who's family said that they "could see this coming," opened fire in Seattle's Cafe Racer in May, killing six, most community-based outpatient mental health providers are severely understaffed and overworked, which is only getting worse as states budgets are getting trimmed more and more each year. I would also add that the increased difficulty in getting someone involuntarily committed, which I see as good on many levels, means that there is less funding "needed" for those facilities, which results in fewer of them as well as poorer conditions in the ones that do exist. What do you think that means for the people who want to be voluntarily hospitalized, who know that they need the security and intensity of inpatient care during a particularly bad period or during a medication change?
In my experience, it's difficult for many people to even get the mental health equivalent of a drug rehab program. Even though my family wanted me to do it shortly after my original diagnosis, there was no local facilities for that kind of treatment and it was hit or miss whether our health insurance would cover it. I know a family that had to liquidate their 401k so that one parent/spouse could get 90-day inpatient treatment and the only facility is over ten hours away. As for community-based outpatient treatment, I obtained services from our county's mental health facilities for over a year, both prescriptions for my medications as well as once monthly talk-therapy, for a very reasonable, sliding-scale fee. Through school and then my husband, I had medical insurance, and started treatment with a psychiatrist that had treated me during a hospitalization. Even when I no longer had health insurance, my family ultimately decided that it was worth it to pay for a psychiatrist that I could get an appointment to see within two business days if I had problems with my medications, as opposed to the very caring nurse practitioner at the county facility, who I had to wait a month to see when I had an emergency with my medication and who was mostly just happy when I was still taking my medication as prescribed. Last summer and fall, when I realized that things weren't getting any better with time after my uncle's passing, my parents decided that it was worth it to pay out-of-pocket for my intensive DBT therapy, instead of me going back to our county mental health facility for my on-going treatment. It was a tough choice but one I'm glad they made, glad we currently have the resources to make.
So, using "he's crazy" as a dismissal of the motivations of this perpetrator erases all debate about the current state of mental health care in this country, as well as the hard work of so many people who are dealing with and seeking treatment for their mental health concerns in that system. It also perpetuates the stigma of mental illness, which can be a stumbling block to seeking or continuing treatment. Before you use "crazy" as a dismissal, think of the mentally ill people you know, or just those dealing with mental health issues that will affect most humans at some point in their life (grieving, mild depression, trauma, etc), and if you think that their "crazy" means that you think they will, or even could, do what this man did. And, if you think it's possible, ask yourself if you're willing to keep dismissing the possibility until you instead find yourself dismissing their actions.
I don't claim to have any answers about why the perpetrator did this, but I don't think that those answers will ever be as simple as "he's damaged/insane/crazy," even if those things did play a role. It may seem easier to write these events off this way, but never very accurate. Only even mentioning being damaged or crazy in the context of criminal behavior means that it's the only picture of mental illness that you are acknowledging exists, even while your mentally ill loved one is right there.
