BPD, Mental health

Coming Back

Coming back to stability is hard. Really hard. Having to allow emotions to happen when feelings are the last thing I want is at times close to beyond bearing.

Circumstances have dictated that I have had to push myself extremely hard for two months. I am going to move house. I have done all I can to make this place saleable, but when will this be? I don’t know. Where will I go? I don’t know. There is light, a lot of light, a blinding light of hope at the end of this. There will be peace, quiet, tranquillity, beauty, opportunity and healing but my distorted sense of time makes it feel like a million years away.

I have worked hard and achieved what I set out to do despite the warnings of an inevitable crash when I reached the other side. I went in knowing the risks this time, telling myself that I can do it, I have survived so far and will again. But now that the necessary intensity has dissipated I am faced with battling the inevitable crash.

I tell myself that I should have left it at a single afternoon off; just a few hours break. Instead, I listened to everyone who told me to slow down, take a break, take time out, it was deserved and took a day off.

A day off. That was all. A single day. I know taking days off, and timeout is essential. But the problem for me is if I do so, then I am alone with my mind.

Alone with my mind is never a good thing somehow. It starts ok, a whole-body sigh, a sense of relief, I pat myself on the back and congratulate myself for all I have achieved.

Then it wears off. There is nothing. Nothing to fill the empty void inside.

This is the second day of the battle. Trying to release this awful bone deep empty pain, but it just won’t go away.

Being alive and trying to reach the point where I want to live is such hard work. I don’t understand why I don’t have this desire that other people seem to have. Why is it only fleeting moments with me? Why can I not sustain a desire to be? Why is life so interminable? There are too many hours in a day.

And no, don’t be concerned, I am not suicidal, far from it. This is just, well it’s normal for me to feel this way. But I hate it.

Is my life so bad? No, not at all. I am lucky; I have a roof over my head, I have people who genuinely care about me and look out for me. I have my pets, my hobbies, I have a job … so the guilt takes over. I have no right to feel this way. I have no reason to feel such sadness, such emptiness so why won’t it just go away?

I can be such a happy, smiley person – but I am only a happy smiley person when I’m focused on others or a specific task. Happy, smiley me is contagious. It would be so good to be able to maintain that, to not bounce from one emotion to another and another. It would be such a relief if my head could just shut up and stop knocking me down. If only I could stop diminishing me.

I’m sitting in a room full of things I have created; a space I have decorated and made cosy for me; with my drawings, my paintings, photos that I have taken. Things that people say I have done well. But still, they are not to my standard; not up to my ridiculous perfectionist expectations.

There is so much noise around here right now. Too much traffic, truck after truck after truck. I move my laptop from room to room to get away from the sound. I’ve tried drowning it out with music, but my music is not reaching me. Hundreds and hundreds of songs, but nothing connects. The sounds of nature that soothe me are not breaking through. Not with this traffic.

And it’s Friday, awful stressful, brain screaming beginning of the weekend Friday.

Yesterday was cat day. I tried so many things to get back on track. I couldn’t. Yesterday was balled on the couch day, dogs at my feet cat curled on top of me. My animals know when I’m struggling, they rally around.

I am trying so hard to do this myself, but my brain keeps reminding me that it is pointless and do I want to live the rest of my life this way? Do I want to endure bone-deep emotional pain? Do I want to live with this awful, gnawing emptiness inside?

I should not have taken a day off. Or maybe I should, I don’t know because yes I am crashing and yes I am fighting alone in the darkness of my own mind alternately wishing someone was here to hold me through this storm and keep me safe and the terror of myself and feeling that I can never, ever put myself on another person.

I don’t know that I am making the slightest bit of sense right now.

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