#134 My curse!

My curse is that I cannot forget!

I remember the hurtful things that people say
and all the unintentionally painful things
that people have said to me
FOREVER.

Even as I get older
and I cannot find my keyes
and I struggle to spell ordinary words,
my memory drags up
out of the depths of my mind
what someone said
or how they looked at me months or years ago.

Is it that
what was said is less important
than how it made me feel at the time?
Was I embarrassed?
Was I hurt?
Was I angry?

Is it possible
that my mind could have forgotten the words or looks
had my body not remembered the feelings?
So my memory retains the specifics:
the who. what, when, where
and forever wonders why?

Out of the Borderline Forest
comes this one punishing personality trait...

I cannot forget past injuries!

#104 Here We Go Again!

I know it is typical for us Borderlines to feel rage when our therapist announces she is taking some time off. I am feeling it more this time than usual I guess because I am FEELING it instead of suppressing it.
But I am also feeling the HURT.
Why trust someone??? She says that I am special but she still leaves me!!!
I was special to some people once-upon-a-time...

My Dad got sick when I was 3 and he left me;
my mother got scared and she left me too;
my big sister got married and she left as well;
my big brother went soldeiring and he died.

I wasn't "special" to anyone anymore.and I forgot how to trust!
But I didn't forget how to HURT!

I am oh so angry.
I want the inside pain to hurt on the outside.
The little me could handle outside pain but not the pain of being left again!!!

#99 How Do I Feel?

Am I comfortable?
Too hot? Too cold?
Hungry? Tired?
Sad? Happy?,

I wrack my brain. What do they want to hear? What is the right answer? I scarcely inhabit my body so I know that I cannot find the answer there.

Are they too hot, hungry and sad? I'll agree with them.
Are they too cold, tired, but happy? I'll be that too.

In the face of these kinds of questions, I need to come up with a response quickly before the panic of unknowing begins to show. The stunned silence, the furrowed brow, the stammering does not make a good impression. "I actually don't know what I feel," is not believable to most people.

It is only in the extremes that I become aware and then I am no good at naming the feelings. Scared, panic stricken, terrified. My body can only identify fear feelings. Everything else I have to guess at or, like a chameleon, try to blend in with those around me.

#94 All My Own Fault!

Everything bad that has ever happened to me, I have filed under, "Rylee's Own Fault."
My mother built this filing cabinet for me before I could even talk. Everything went into it.
From my earliest days, a favourite phrase of my mother's was, "you made your bed now lie in it."
No matter what distress I was in, apparently I had brought it on myself.
No matter that I could not remember or understand what I had done exactly, I was solely responsible for my predicament.
All the shame, humiliation, helplessness, abuse, terror, suicidal panics, poor choices, self-injury are locked away as "Rylee's Own Fault."
Until now, it has been very difficult for me to work through the painful parts of my past because I was so well indoctrinated.
All I can think about is that it was my own stupid fault!

#91 A Lifetime of Fear

People who felt safe in their childhoods never really lose that sense of trust in the world that their parents were able to provide for them but those of us who lived with coldness and recurring chaos never lose that fearfulness. It can be dialled down to a nagging worry or a kind of free floating anxiety. During stressful times it gets dialled up to full blown panic or real terror.

Every morning we wake up to the fact that nowhere is a safe place for us.
We go into the world battle ready. We go into the world alone because we have not learned to trust. We go into the world without the skills we need to negotiate with others and to navigate our journey.

We will do almost anything to escape the constant fear and what we do angers and frightens others. We are weighed down with psychiatric labels and get stuck in the system.

We are frightened. We are lost. We are alone.

#86 Dear Abby

02 Feb 19??

Dear Abby,
Today I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. I went to the library to read up on this psychiatric condition and I was very disturbed by what I learned. Apparently, people make money writing books about how to survive living with a Borderline.
Is it inevitable that everyone who gets to know me will eventually despise me?
signed
'worried in Border Country'

Dear 'Worried'
Yes, it is true, no one likes Borderline Personalities. Your only hope is to learn to keep a good distance between yourself and others. If you keep well away, you will be mostly invisible; but the closer you get to people, the more likely it is that they will find you insufferable.

Of course, you are already aware that your reactions to life are all out of proportion...
-your overly sensitive personality will confuse others;
-your need for control over the smallest details will annoy everyone;
-your difficulties with the simplest tasks will upset others;
-the choices you make to manage stress will confound everybody.

In other words, you will drive people crazy if you let them get close to you.
The best advice I can give is that you keep your distance from everyone. You cannot trust anyone to understand and empathize so you must never connect to anyone. Make every effort to remain alone with your illness and people will probably not hate you.

#71 She Wants to Talk

When my therapist gave me her e-mail address back in August, I wrestled with what I would (allow myself) to write to her about. I realize, now, that I was deciding whether I would give "little Rylee” access. It did seem obvious, as it has all my life, that she would not be allowed to communicate and I was able to enforce that ban even on August 18th when she hurled herself out of her box.

All my life, when I have found myself on the edge, I have had to try to keep her inside until I got home, or at least until, I was alone. There was never a serious possibility that I would let her out into the world. Her feelings; her experiences were to be keep stored away, out of site.
She must not be seen or heard.

Without a doubt, she has taken over in therapy, on some occasions in the past. Even if I can’t quite remember the details, I know when she has been there. But she did it without my permission.
The reason I wrestled with the possibility of her communicating with my therapist back in August is because of how badly "little Rylee" wants to talk to her.
Now it is time to unlock the box.
She has finally found someone that she trusts.

#63 Flashback!

I used to be convinced that my bpd flare-ups came on as a result of stress. Not so this year.
For months, my anxiety level has been climbing, but my life is more-or-less crisis-free.
So why the anxiousness? And the meltdowns? And the firestorms?
And now, a major flashback!!!

I think I remember a few months ago, feeling good enough about myself to tell myself that I wasn't afraid anymore; that I have nothing to lose if I face up to my demons; that it is OK to remember.
I don't even know what I meant by that.

But, it apparently opened a door somewhere.
Now my body has remembered something truly horrific.

It is early days so I don't know what this is going to do to me.
But I'm still alive.
Uninjured.
Weirdly calm actually.

#61 Monkey Mind

If I have not seen a person for a while, I panic. Even if I am aware of the reason for their absence from my life and the likelihood that it is temporary, I still panic.

Part of me is well aware that the panic comes from the six year old stuck in survival mode, but my monkey mind (the chatterbox) tells me that I have done something to make them go away from me! "You have screwed up; you did something stupid; you said something offensive; you revealed too much of yourself!"

And now they have abandoned me! And it is my own fault!

At this point in my life, I can hear that the voice is that of the scared six year old, but I still cannot stop my monkey mind from running away with the overwhelming feelings. It offers all sorts of explanations, rationalizations, justifications. "Yes, it was only a matter of time before this happened; of course they have gone away; it makes perfect sense that they would leave you some day; today is that day!"

Then, one day, the person reappears in my life as if nothing had happened, making me wish that I had been able to resist listening to the crazy, frightened, paranoid, little person in my head!

#59 Acting-In Borderline

A decision that I made when I was 12 years old, set the pattern for my life. I had just experienced another all nighter of screaming, by a family member, and I made a promise to myself. "I will never let it all out like that; I will never put it onto others like that; I will never hurt other people with my pain like that. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

A 12 year old is not mature enough to make lifetime decisions, but I have, for the most part, honoured that one. At that moment I became an "Acting-in" Borderline instead of an "Acting-out" Borderline Personality.

My life has been chaotic, but in a mostly private way. I held down a very responsible job in the health care field for more than thirty years. I kept a roof over my head and helped others financially when I could.

But I have always been embarrassed about my 'reactivity' and ashamed of my paranoia, my distorted thinking and my out-sized feelings. That's why I put so much energy into maintaining as much secretiveness as I can manage around my thoughts and feelings. I think I was so confused and terrified at seeing a member of my family "acting out" that I did not want people thinking I was crazy too.

My rage has always been directed at myself. It is only a few times, when my self inflicted injuries required medical treatment that I gave myself away. Of course, I was hospitalized, twice, for depression and I guess I gave myself away in the psychological testing. So the diagnosis was made.

Then I went back to my job and my life. And the secrets. The more stressed, angry, depressed or panicky I become, the more I isolate myself. I even feel like an outsider in "Borderline Circles". It has been a very lonely, closeted, and painful existence but would it have been much better if I had not made that decision at the age of 12?

#51 I Am Invisible!

I used to think that I am good at being invisible when it suits me, but that I can be visible when I feel safe enough.

WRONG!
I am never visible.

I have just discovered the term, "acting in" borderline (as opposed to "acting out" Borderline). I have used almost all my energy, since I was about 12 years old, to keep it all inside.
In other words, to hide. The shame of my over the top reactions, my out of control feelings, and my bizarre acts of self-injury has made me run all the way home and slam the door behind me, before I let it happen. Dissociation was the safety valve if I could not get home fast enough.

So thanks to this program, no one knows me. Family, friends, co-workers, even health professionals were not allowed to see the real me.

I wear a paper bag over my head with a smiley face painted on it.
I am invisible!

#50 New Information!

For some time now, my BPD has been running amuck. The problem is that there is no problem.
There is no crisis in sight.

There is not much wrong in my life right now, so I am dealing with pure, unattached anxiety and impending rage. I keep wanting to blame something or someone in the vicinity but, even I am not convinced that I should be in tears because I have run out of milk.

I suppose the information here is that this is the way it has been since I became a so-called adult. The anxiety and anger of my childhood have always been transferred to the issues of my today life. It made sense. It was my problems with people, job, therapy, relationships, health, or finances that were the cause of my meltdown or firestorm.

Now it looks like the bread crumbs lead right back to my six-year old self.

What do I do with that information?

#48 What Did You Say?

Today I was climbing a mountain when I slipped and started to fall. Grabbing wildly at everything and anything, I found myself dangling 1000 feet in the air hanging onto a tree root.

I cried out for help.

A voice from above answered me, "Rylee, do you believe that I can help you? "
"Yes, yes I do. Please, please, help me."
The voice said, "Then let go. Don't look down, but let go."

"Are you crazy? Let go???"

"Does anyone else up there have any better suggestions?"

#44 Abandonment

I have never thought seriously about what abandonment has meant for me personally. It is a textbook issue for Borderlines but, other than the panic I feel when my therapist goes away, I have not considered how it runs throughout my life.

My mother did not welcome a fourth child and I grew up feeling no particular bond with her, only fear. I was just 3 years old when my Dad got sick and he spent most of the next 4 years in hospital. My father was gone and my mother was stressed beyond her capacity to cope. In those years, I looked to my oldest sister for comfort, but I was only 6 when she left for good to start a career and a family of her own. When I was 7 years old, we were forced to leave everything familiar and go live a hand to mouth existence where ever we could. When I was 16, my big brother and my father died.

For sure, this adds up to a mountain of abandonment. How does it play out in my daily life?
Lack of trust is a constant. How can I put my trust in anyone or anything, because they can just disappear without warning. Recurring panic. I continually watch for signs of impending catastrophe. It is difficult, impossible it seems, to ‘connect’ with other people. It will hurt so much when they leave me that I don’t think I can survive it again.

#40 Identity-Loss

I was most like my Dad. We loved animals, had the same sense of humour; we even looked alike. Tommy and I were closest in age and were best friends, especially after we moved out into the country. We explored the fields and woods, rode our bikes, tobogganed and skated in the winter, fished the creeks together in the summer. I felt special to these two people.

When they died, I lost a very important part of myself.

I was still someone’s sister and someone’s child but I was not somebody. (For many reasons I had never been close to my mother or my two older sisters.)

Overnight I went from
being somebody who was important to somebody
to nobody who was important to anybody.

I have struggled with this feeling all of my life. This loss of self.

I am convinced that I am not, nor ever will be, important to anyone ever again.
I know people care about me. I know people like me. I know that I have done good work. I know that I have helped people. I also know that I will never be special in anyone’s life.

That was taken from me when I was just 16 years old. When Tommy and my Dad died they tore such an important part of me away that a great gaping wound remained.
I guess the sight of it scares people off.

#29 The Biggest Lie

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

A wise woman called this the biggest lie that we were told as children.

We all know that words can hurt but, for some of us, they were soul-destroying. Little kids called useless, stupid and hopeless will spend a lifetime scanning their surroundings for confirmation of this. We will find words, looks and gestures that bring back the pain and humiliation. We will continue to think of ourselves this way.

My mother used to say that, “that which does not kill us, makes us stronger.”
I disagree. Words, used as weapons, are not a way to make a child stronger. They break hearts and minds and lives. The words change all of us, for sure, but they cripple some and annihilate others.

#26 The Real Me?

I hear a faint cracking sound. I ignore it.
I’m too busy thinking that people don’t like me anymore. People are mad at me for something that I have said or done. Every thing that I say is embarrassingly stupid. I know I have been making a fool of myself for some time. Every kind of art I do is garbage. Every word I write is juvenile and amateurish.
It just happens. One day I wake up and I sincerely believe that all of this is reality.

I keep it to myself because no one takes me seriously. They think I am being ridiculous. They see no evidence to support any of it.
Sometimes it lasts for days or weeks. It makes me want to avoid people or at least not talk to them. It keeps me from attempting any creative tasks. It makes me very sad.
Its disappearance is a great relief. But I’m not so sure that the replacement is really me.


Am I the one who feels just good enough? Or am I the useless, hopeless, borderline crazy one?

#20 Circular Thinking

Jane is rejecting me
I avoid Jane
Jane doesn’t see me
I don’t look at Jane
Jane won’t make an effort to know me
I’m not good enough to be Jane’s friend
I avoid Jane
It feels like Jane is rejecting me
I never make eye contact with Jane
Jane looks right past me
I obviously don’t belong here
Jane refuses to connect with me
I avoid Jane…

Today I realize that this kind of circular thinking
is typical of Borderline Personality Disorder.
Unfortunately, tomorrow I won’t see that
and it will just be the pain of rejection that I feel.

#19 Two Memories

For the more unpleasant events of my life,
I seem to have two memories.

The most fragmented one
is the one from inside the experience
and it is mostly feelings.

The other one is incomplete as well,
but it is the one stored as still photographs
by the outside watcher……


the only light comes from the bathroom across the hall
the only sound comes from the kitchen below
the smell of whiskey and cigarettes enters my room

the mountain of a man
huge and bristly grey and greasy
stands over me

laughter floats up from below
apparently something is very funny down there
not so up here

in the corner of the bedroom there’s a hole in the floor
it ‘s the reason i can hear them having such a good time
i wish there were a stovepipe in it
as the farmer who built this place intended
it would provide warmth for me
and a connection to the people downstairs

there is none

my bedroom floats free
they are oblivious

my body floats free
i am oblivious.

#18 This Is My Truth

One of my recurring nightmares is that people do not like me and they are trying, in different ways, to tell me. I am constantly on the lookout for the signals because it is my truth that no one will ever like me! I work hard at being funny or nice and work equally hard at not appearing crazy or childish. But some days I can’t do both and the certain knowledge creeps back into my body that I am basically unlikeable.

I am afraid that people can see my anger and my sadness and that it makes them uncomfortable. But mostly, it is my anxiety which frustrates them, I am sure. I’m afraid to talk, terrified of saying something stupid. I prefer to go unnoticed. My extreme self-consciousness about my body is just one reason that I find it painful to be visible.

Hours, days or even weeks after being with others, I will remember something that I said or did and I am overwhelmed by shame. Telling myself that no one else remembers does not help.

It makes me withdraw from people, which feeds the vicious circle. But it seems like the right thing to do at the time because, in my imagination, I am doing them a favour - they don’t have to tolerate me or pretend to like me for a while.

It all sounds so crazy and embarrassing for a grown-up person but it has been my constant companion since I was a kid. I would be so much happier if I could only break this fear driven cycle.