loss

My wife and I have been working on making craft items to sell. It started with knotted friendship bracelets and bottle cap magnets, but when my mom passed away in February of 2024, I was given any of her crafting items to use for the business. Two cricuts that I barely knew how to use (I gave one away), a mug press and about a 100 mugs, with infusible ink paper and tons of vinyl, so much card making material, and a lot more that I didn't even know what it was. I'm still learning, and sometimes I get so frustrated because mom would have known how to do it, except for the mug press. She wanted me to learn how to use it and then teach her, but I kept procrastinating right through the time she had her stroke. I really hate that I never made time to do that for her, that I wanted to be so unlike her that I took away something that would have brought her joy. I learned a lesson when she passed about not wasting time, that tomorrow may never come, and I dearly wish the lesson I had learned was how to make a mug while spending time with my mom.

I’ve spent 25 years crawling through my own brain in therapy, discovering myself, and my BPD. Then when I’m doing pretty well and I think the coast is clear, then
BAM, I get hit head on by life’s semi truck when my sister, and soulmate, died four years ago. Damn,
why did I not think that last night together to crawl into bed with her and swallow her Hospice morphine so I could go with her? There is no life without her. God, I miss you!!!
So for the past four years, I’ve been letting my panic disorder and depression fight it out with each other
while I just lie in bed wishing I were nothing.
During this past year, after spinal fusion surgery, I have been falling quite a lot. Sometimes up to seven times a day. Broke my nose, falling, cracked my elbow bone, falling, and pretty much black and blue head to toe all the time. Thinking it was something spinal or something neurological, we did 1 million MRIs and 2, million vials of blood, so the neurologist could try and figure out why I keep falling and having memory loss. Losing the words here and there. So, finally after all the testing he did, it was time to go in and see him this week and get the results of what he thought was going on.
Was it from my spine surgery Last year or possibly something at the base of my brain at the top of my spine??? He comes in the office and says ALZHEIMER’S… as easily as if he was asking me to pass him the salt.
OMG, that wasn’t even what we were looking for, not even on the radar.
Oh dear God, what am I going to do with this information??? My aunt had Alzheimer’s. I visited her every day until one day I just disappeared from her. The day she forgot who I was, I just sat and cried and cried.
I don’t want to be her, not even knowing who people are or having any say so to your own life because
you’re not in your own brain. What the hell do I do with this information at only 64 years old.
Damn, I should’ve remembered Jean’s morphine that final night!!!
#BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #AlzheimersDisease #Grief #BPD #MentalHealth #Depression #Memory #Loss

The ennui and anomie... The complete disinterest in things which once kept me animated... Coffee or tea to begin with... Beer... Food in general... Was choosy with types and brands once. And I liked and craved good food and had my choices. Movies too I looked forward... Recall the ways I brewed my coffee. And savour my boutique tea. Today none of these enthuse ... Just about holding on to music which too I feel losing interest in... In fact I attempted to expand my choice of music to more popular... Taylor Swift, Eminem, Beyonce.. Bollywood songs (I'm from India) But no luck. Reading I still manage and get excited by certain books on politics and history... Socialising is next to non existent where again I barely seek anyone's company. Being alone and single for long now that too seems to have some logic to it. But yes... I'm anxious now... Evidently my chronic depression, despair and not in the last my age too has everything to do with my state. Just tired of everything, hopeless, stewing in my loneliness, grief and anguish which to be honest seems the reality and truth in my life. My pooch is the only company but notice how my own regret, hopelessness rubs off on my pet too. It too tries its best to get me animated but over months has resigned itself to my extreme lows. I did travel a bit but as mused in my previous post, it barely stirred or excited me in ways I used to relate to travel. I don't find anyone I can share my experience and observations with any gusto or verve. Social media surprisingly with the kind of groups on history, grief, heritage, films I follow in some way offers familiarity from my past. But the fear of all dissipating is so palpable. Extinguishing all cause for living... is happening.
#Anxiety #Loss #Shame #SuicidalIdeation #SuicidalThoughts #Grief #Loneliness #failure

#ctpsd #BPD #Trauma 👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽 Let's see if you could be me.I need you to imagine having borederline personality disorder and living in a world where nothing makes sense and you have very little understanding of the human race because you don't believe how people treat each other matches your internal content of what you believe to be right, just, moral. Also imagine you feel everything a thousand fold of the rest of the world and that not only do others hate you for it but you hate yourself for it too. Imagine growing up ostracized, neglected and never being socialized. Could you imagine the loneliness?Confusion?Fear of people? Living off of hope alone? Wondering if there's even 1 person on earth like you? Broken like you? 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Could you imagine 37 years of people leaving you? Using you? Rejecting you without ever knowing why? Can you put yourself in my shoes of "existing with the pain" instead of living a life? 🧬 🧬 Doesn't sound so good does it? Being afraid of life because you don't know how to live it. Wanting the pain to stop but being afraid of death. Hoping that one day someone will meet you, actually see you and like or love you? The love you see everyone around recieve. Praying to a god you don't believe in per se so hard to send you an angel to save you because simply don't have anywhere to belong? A life always on the outside looking in? Regretting you were ever born? Never understanding "why"? Can you picture it? Comprehend the low quality of life?💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Now can you imagine how things could ever get worse? That a time would come where your past trauma's were a picnic compared to what life is about to put you through with zero warning of just how awful people can truly be? Blindsided completely. Targeted so intensively that you believed God must be real because he really did send you the "angel you prayed for?“🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Social phobia disorder, BPD and for f*** sakes now diagnosed with C-TPSD in adulthood is my story💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

NO MATTER HOW PAINFUL TODAY IS TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, THINGS CAN ALWAYS GET SO MUCH WORSE THAN YOU COULD EVER KNOW. SO BE GREATFUL FOR EVERYTHING YOU DO HAVE EVEN IF IT DOESN'T SEEM LIKE MUCH IT COULD ALWAYS BE TAKEN FROM YOU 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 #kmn #why #Evil #dying #Loss #changed #nothingness #stolen #grooming #unfair #alone

That's how I went from living with BPD to something far far more painful.🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🥀🥀🥀HERE LIES THE ME I USED TO BE🥀🥀🥀

Grief, loss and the resulting loneliness can bore into one's soul deeply and painfully. The anguish and despair in its wake be very overwhelming. Anxiety and remorse also works its way often to dread. And as an elderly man in his mid fifties I have lived a life where to admit and acknowledge this sense of vulnerability could be shockingly juvenile for some. There's also the fact that given my seeming background of privilege and scholarship I should have had a life so ordinary if not disastrous.

Indeed so it is - an existence full of falls, knocks, failures and setbacks. Initially as a youth I gave myself fully into whatever I got into. Of course I was not perfect. Anything but perfect. Flawed at several levels but more optimistic, positive about prospects & futures. Then I was not deeply sombre, melancholic, sedate and aware of both my agential self and an understanding of how people and society play out as I'm today though by rights being a student of history and sociology should have given me an advantage. I was not bestowed with the best of cognitive abilities or acute intellect or seductive charisma to shine in relationships, academia or competitive career where I could be very favorably compared with my peers among family and friends. I think I was deeply ADHD as a kid, something I realised only few years back. But I was yet a romanticist even then. So there was this bravado and cockiness infused with hubris. Several of my actions emerging from such a context were naturally not the most edifying and many obnoxious. Bad karmas had to result probably.

When in my early 30s I had my first bout of depression. I cowered, lost hope and that I'm a loser hit me like a sledgehammer. However as the only son I always had my parents support particularly my father who never judged me and never thought less of me because I was not on a jet setting career and success trajectory. He saw to it I was given proper support and treatment. After counseling, medication and even forced internment in an institution I was back again and again pepped myself to work my way through in a domain of my choosing (pedagogy of sociology & history) though this domain was already rigged. Don't know whether things went my way or I just remained persistent, positive but I managed to pull along for another 10-12 years. But misery, failures, sheer bad luck caught up again. I often wonder if someone, indeed many are deeply orchestrating my doom by casting spells, magic or voodoo. Recently nightmares too have become repeated and common. Mornings are scary.

I lost a relationship which I still cherish. Not just that, I lost an entire ecosystem of living built from scratch (which included a pair of adorable dogs). Then I lost my parents. Kins were never too indulgent but even most friends disappeared. I had worked around to a view that life was much more than work, career and family and indeed lived such a life with my partner who too bought into this view. We had no kids either. Won't go into all details for now. But my relationship ended and I was uprooted in several sense of the word. Uprooted physically, socially that has left a deep emotional, painful, shameful scar. And top it all there's guilt. (again too complex to explain the many whys and hows of my guilt and shame was conspired by unforgiving circumstances and embarassing magnitude of misfortune. Have done so in earlier posts. I nevertheless can't and don't want to blame any person for my misery) And so for last 10 years and more I'm living a deeply impaired life stripped of solace, comfort leave alone joy or happiness.

At its extreme these result in acute shame ...you just want to kill yourself. Then less macabre is to shut yourself from the world. Bury yourself in your-self, your room, shutting out the world. You can bury in work or some pursuit too, numb yourself and cope. Not that it makes meaning and often work for someone persistently jinxed can exacerbate anxiety and hurt but that’s the mechanism to deal with your pain, anguish. Interalia you interact with people, indulge in conversations and coerce yourself into some engagement. Medications and counselling kind of helps in keeping you 'operational'. However these don't in any way negate your loss. Your destitution remains but to others you are comfortably 'normal'. You so wish to share your pain, open up about the suffering that you endure constantly but unless you invisibilise your grief and loss, the little socialization that you engineer too would end. As someone battling depression and grief over many years I continue to experience this. The loneliness of my suffering remains and indeed I feel so cheated and further humiliated that my victimhood is rendered so false and invalidated. As indicated in one of my previous posts, there's no power behind my claims of loss, shame and grief. The discourse on grief is barely mainstreamed to bestow legitimacy, validity to those proclaiming it. It is too dominated by homily serving 'getting over' 'moving on' 'remaining positive' 'others have it worse' 'self pity' 'contrived victimhood' and such insights and advice indicating complete ignorance of grief pedagogy.

My losses, setbacks, failures have been severe, debilitating, hollowing and constantly hovering above my head as Damocles sword striking me at periodic and regular intervals and each so severe, dismantling all my self respect and dignity. For last few years it’s just me and my tyke stewing in isolation bereft of any presence & support save some sporadic checking in by select friends. My kins are no worth and contempt is mutual. It’s a deeply miserable life where i’m left scrounging for indulgence. The kind of intimacy, reassuredness, comfort that I did once enjoy briefly has all but vaporised. For a romanticist such a loss is cataclysmic.

At many levels my issue - and those like me battling loss, loneliness and failure is also located in a world brutally impersonal and rendered so mechanistic. Mere survival is made to appear an achievement and seeking meaning, empathy and joy pointless. A contrived existential attribute is imputed and presence of anxiety and vulnerability is reduced to a delusion and incompetence. Modernity is by itself not a pathological state but all its possibilities are hollowed out by wanton callousness and misconstrued fabrication of meaninglessness. Don't know sometimes if being a Neitschzean superman braving it all and willing to live too is delusional. It hasn't been worth it. 😢
#ChronicDepression #Dysthymia #Grief #prolongedgrief #anguish #SuicidalIdeation #Loneliness #Anxiety #Loss #Depression