Quiet

*Triggers Alert*

The fact is that when we have depression we all wear a mask. Why we wear the mask is either for them, us, or both.

My mask to hide how damn low I feel is cracked. I don’t want to talk to anyone. My dad wants to chat today. It’s our chat day, but I just don’t want to. He’s 88 and lives alone. I know this call is important, but the thought of hearing him tell me how I don’t understand missing home, missing my mom, having no one to talk to, anything about being an adult, etc makes the crack wider.

I haven’t slept well in years but it’s been worse for the last few months. My dog was sick last Labour Day weekend. He’s 17. He’s my anchor. I get up multiple times and for long periods for him. He’s done so much for me that helping him work through his anxiety and dementia seems like a small ask. But no to little sleep means my depression slithers in and takes hold more tightly.

Then there’s me and my behaviour. Someone I cared for deeply that I met 21 years ago has been in and out of my life with a huge distance. He’s an addiction. He makes me for one second feel like this wonderful and wanted person and then the rest of the time I’m nothing. I am done with that. I feel sad to let go regardless of knowing the toxicity, but I need to let go because he breaks me too.

Then there is my husband. The person I married. Our marriage had a strong friend component because that’s how we got through all the drug abuse and other nasty things from his kids. But he made decisions like he decided he didn’t want anymore children because he felt like he was too old. He was 47 at that point. He encouraged the endometrial ablation despite me wanting to have children. I was 38. But the doctors said I was too fat to get pregnant and that I needed this. I never recovered from feeling like I was sterilized. I’ve never been able to say that to anyone.

We moved 3 1/2 years ago. After the ablation I haven’t been able to look at my husband the same. Zoom forward to today and I don’t feel like we are friends anymore. I don’t like being touched by him. He treats me like a servant. Apparently it’s all on me to clean the house and keep it clean, decide on meals and cook them, make appointments for services like vet appointments or changing the car tires. He checked out long ago. But we are stuck together. I don’t know if there is any coming back.

Then, anyone who has read my whining before knows, my meds haven’t worked for awhile and I cannot talk to my doctor about them because he’s an ignorant, weight biased prick.

I am selfish. I know this. Im guessing im cruel as well.

My dog is my life. Seeing the flowers bloom gives me a flutter of joy.

Today is the worst I’ve ever felt.

#Depression #MajorDepressiveDisorder #SuicidalThoughts #Quiet

#BipolarDisorder #chronic pain, #Fibromyalgia # mighty minute# 52 small things#Trauma - medical and sexual,#Gardening #Quiet time and space
Diagnosed in 1975 many hospitalizations before meds figured into picture. Lithium was a bust for me cuz couldn't get a decent blood level and blood draws were killer.
Over the years the mood swings calmed down 👇 but Anxiety became my enemy.
I've learned skills over the years but nothing is foolproof for me. Requires constant change and attention.

The less time I spend on here I take as a sign I’m doing better. I’m currently in college now and a lot of things I never did in high school I was able to accomplish this past year. I’ve learned people don’t care if you don’t know them and want to eat lunch together and not alone. Now however I feel I’m falling back into the trap of not asking thanks to moments where I actually DID want to be alone. How do I find a balance without social anxiety taking over? I don’t want to be too content with eating alone frequently.

I have always been a quiet girl. my sisters and Mom are always outspoken and they run over me when I talk alot of the times. I am not like them but I don't want to live the same way I do now. my anxiety has always told me that if I say the wrong thing than I'll be left so I stay quiet and curl up in my little dark hole and don't say anything. I don't want to do that. anyone else go through something similar?

On that note;
I always try to never bother anyone with any noise or sound.
Maybe that stems from my back in the day where if I made noise at night my dad would wake up pretty pissed. So I learned how to step quietly , my hearing is impeccable and with my 200pounds manage to walk up 8 wooden staircases and not wake up anyone.

I've never written anything like this and I just need to post it and not delete it.
I feel both relieved and ridiculous.

I'm sorry for anyone offended by my words.
Trust me, nothing you say will make me feel worse than how I make myself feel every second of every day.

But then again,no one is going to read this. So that's a relief.

The whole thing that men sleep around and parade women as trophies has never really been something attractive for me.
My hormones are usually out of wack and either I'm haunted by thoughts of sleeping around.
Not that i can, I do not have the luxury nearly all women and some men have. (This was the part I feel would make people angry btw)

I say that because of how twisted I've always seen myself, and have come to realise that "Loving yourself"?
Is a luxury item not in my reach. Ever. Tolerating maybe.
So I feel that I am never good enough.
Even when rationally speaking, I am not hideous and my 'normal' personality makes me pseudo-attractive.
Compared to some of the 'beasts' we all see.

(I think this way and I HATE IT. I LOATHE myself for doing this and because of it I always tell myself there is nothing worse in the world than me. For who am I to judge anyone.)

I feel deprived of human contact and touch.
I'm almost sure that I've actually started fearing it. Isolating myself more and as soon as I get the chance, cower away in the shadows.
I'm actually a very cheery person and love to be a cheerleader to other people and their hopes and dreams.

I push myself to my limits (physically and mentally) to surround myself with fun people.
People I tolerate are a dime a dozen.

Often indulging in any kind of stimulant (harddrugs, alcohol) just to be sure that my thoughts are quiet and I'm fun.

Anyone who acts selfish is labelled a horrible person and I'd love to see them all die.
Not proud of that thought process but hey, atleast I'm not the one bothering anyone.

This is gonna be something that will probably get taking the wrong way by some, if not everyone.
For any distraught I have given anyone, I'm sorry.

Embracing myself as a borderliner has been a 'long' road and recognising thought patterns has helped me a lot.

But I keep having these aweful thoughts about sex.
To go back to my sexual history ; my dad took me to a whorehouse when I was 14/15 simply because he thought I would like that since I was a teenager and also still into anime and cartoons.
I did not.
I pretended though because; you're supposed to.. right? I even went for another 'round' because I didn't finish and idk wanted to see if maybe this time it would be as good as everyone made it seem.
(I feel horrible guilt as I write this simply because I know there's sooo much worse things happening to people and here I am being a little *!&#€£! About this)

Fast forward to 21 and my first normal encounter with the opposite gender occurs.
It was what it was and I dont want to bother anyone with the details.

Fast forward to my first girlfriend who, being a nymphomaniac, was fond of the deed.
It was slightly more pleasurable but I could still not climax. I'm still confused about whether she cheated on me or not.

Now THE ex. A bpd with a side of narcissism.
I loved her more than the world and anyone on it. She had me on a leash and she knew it. Separating me from my family and any friends I had. (But I wouldnt dare to ask her to ditch her appointment with a friend)
With her I had reached a point where i was , finally able to climax. It was glorious and the memory is etched into my brain and It just won't go away.

This was 4 years ago and I've been with about 3 women ever since. 'Relationships' spanning no longer than a few weeks or months.
Not being able to climax and sometimes I was.

What does this have to do with ANYTHING?
I have no clue,maybe someone does.
Or maybe this post gets deleted/removed.

But to get back to my original point.
For most bpd's I've noticed the pattern where we usually love-to-love And be loved.
Sex is part of this and sometimes it's simply there to satisfy your need to be felt.. accepted.
The latter I have never indulged in.
I feel aweful thinking doing that, and the 1 time I actively seduced a girl and got her to a hotel room and we hung out and 'the moment was there'
I couldnt live with myself if I used someone. And went to sleep.

End p.1