Today, I feel like I am losing control.
I am overweight, and cannot control what I am eating. I just keep binging and binging and have no way of stopping. I am exhausted, I don’t know why, perhaps it is the heat, perhaps it is the extra weight I am carrying, perhaps it is the 9am starts at work I have now gone back to, perhaps it is the lying awake at night until midnight each night. Everything is in a mess. My room is disgusting, messy and needs a good clean. So is my car. It stinks, it is filthy and dirty. (The car I promised myself I would keep clean and look after). It is only this morning I gave myself a good clean, after two days of not showering and being dirty and unkempt.
I don’t want to go on. I think of the things I have planned, a couple of dog events, a trip to Go Ape!, a trip to Holland, a holiday to Iceland. But none of it is enough. All these attempts to give myself something to look forward are not enough. Who was I kidding? I cannot escape my mental illness. Reading books on CBT and DBT with the aim of helping myself? What a waste of time. Who am I to think I will be able to change anything? I am hollow, my life experiences have destroyed me. My only hope is that by putting them out there other people can learn from them. They can see there is a better way.
This is the reality of Borderline Personality Disorder.
An empty, ugly shell of a person, who perhaps once was worth saving.
That is until you realise that ‘saving’ someone isn’t that easy; you cannot save someone from themselves.
I have no-one to blame but myself, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know whether or not to allow them to. My life experiences were brought on by my own actions. I have hurt a lot of people. I have ruined a lot of lives. Do not give my sympathy. Hate me. God knows I hate myself.
I suffer from paranoia about what people think about me. So much so, that after a little-too-close-for-comfort conversation with two staff in the office this morning, when I went home for lunch I left my phone on record on my desk. Big mistake. Some things are private for a reason. The conversation they had consisted of their pity for my circumstances and the way I feel about myself. Their pity just makes me feel worse. It validates how bad I feel about life.
Why wasn’t I given the unconditional life I so crave? Probably because I don’t deserve it.
I am thinking of re-homing my little dog Rosa. I am coming to realise she is too much for me. It was a mistake buying a dog with a strong hunting instinct like her, I know that now. This would make me a failure, and I would feel very bad, but I have to do what is right for her. Maybe I should re-home my other dog at the same time, and drift away, leaving the path clear for me to end it all. Not being has to be better than being like this.