in the long run did it really matter at all - *filtered post* why my other journal sis closed & etc
It has been a long few weeks, where I have found myself searching for happiness though the things I Once thought it exemplofoed were fullfilled.
I found recently that I could still engage myself in the false comfort that I left behind when I cleaned up over 10 years ago. In doing so I lost allot, I lost self respect in relapse, I lost trust that was barely there to begin with regarding some people I care about. I lost wat little I had of myself..
I closed my oher journal as a means of moving on, tryign to start new. A first step if you will. However I have found that who I am is far from who i could ever think I was. I have barely scratched the surface, though I fear what lies beneath.
One thing I realize is that my life is comprised of false memories and inner lies, due to my need to build memories from momentary glimpse of where I have been. I knwo anyone else who is borderline out there will understand what I speak of, I realized that last evening while sitting with to BPD friends and comparing things that we hated about this disorder.
I have come to embrace the fact that in a year I will have little recollection of today, I will only have peices which I will put together in a disorganized fashion, blowing it all out of proportion. I have hid from this for years, not knwoing truely everywhere I have been and everyone I was, lost days and nights in the arms of others and mistakes I have made. I even started an LJ to help myself through the hard times and remind myself of where I had been. Unfortunately, I found that it only brought more stress and trouble into this life. My past, which I cannot defend, many times thrown in my face due to the text of those pages I used to hold onto the moments I was sure to forget.
I do not talk about these things often, trying to hide this disorder from those who enter my life out of my shame knowing that I cannot be anyone but who I am that day, not knowing if the memory of who I was before is true or just fractured pictures of many moments rolled into one. I tried to hide this so many times in my youth, finding myself fighting it, trying to find me, trying to find where I fit in.. walking the line of the shadiest people I could find only to know that among them were others like me drawn to the darker sides of life as means of escape.
I once fell in love, married a wonderful woman, started a life with a home and kids and all those ammenities, only to find I was not made for those things, I was not able to change as that I never was anything before. I became this beast as I lost control, and have so many time sense. Leaving that life to drift in the grey of a world I truely will never know. Being a father on thursdays and nothing on the days between. Fearing commitment, fearing love, knowing how I hurt the ones I care for the most. Knowing I will lie to them without meaning to, knowing I must stay in the bubble that is me and only come out for momentary interaction to taste the world beyond.
Busying myself with conquest and test, trying to scrape by and find a life that was meant for me, provide for my family, provide for myself. Always saying "If I just had more money" "if I was my own boss" "If I could just find the right person to love me" knowing all along these things would do nothing to curve my hunger to run away, to cut free of all that makes me happy, to sabotage and destroy, inflict pain upon those who do not deserve it by venting the frustrations within myself, by needing to move when I really just want to stand still. I cant seem to be content, no matter how hard I try. No matter how good life appears on the surface.
And then the drugs, the wonderful self medicating factor that was left behind so long ago, fighting everyday against their temptation to just escape, run away, keep from walking a road to which I will never find end. They call my name in the night, the memories I have of times held up for days with "friends" talking about nothing and everything at once, holding strangers, promising undying love only in the morning to find another, another bump, another hand to hold, another reason not to live, another excuse not to die. applying myself to nothing but feeling accomplished still.
.. then in a moment of doubt and shame I found that long lost friend to hold my hand, to dance with me and make me whole, and yet again it was but a lie, I lost control. I hated myself last saturday night, I hated what I had done, the way I let down myself and those who thought I could be that strong. Then the fear, that creeping fear, the one where I know how good it felt to jsut let go, how I scratched a ten year itch and I wanted to do it again, in spite of the shame, in spite of the pain, in spite of myself. The little lie in the back of my mind saying "you stayed away for so long, you can handle it this time, you did it once, you arent hooked now, lets do it again and we will enjoy ourselves, life will be better.. you know how much you like the way this feels" then I died a little more, again a empty vessel to be filled with memories that will only vanish with each new day.
I remember basics, and I remember nothing more, unless its soemthing bad. Then I remember it moment for moment without second thought
I want to be a better father, i want to be something other than poison to those who come to love me, I want to be so much and yet the frustration grows. Maybe this entry makes no sense, I hope it does but my mind is 1 million places at once, as its been for days. I asked around and I did some research on my disorder, I know I cannot self medicate and it does no good if I do, all it does is gives me reason beyond insomnia to stay awake, an excuse not to dream. Unfortuantely all they seem to do for BPD is to
prescribe Zanex and other crap like that, make you a puppet, a nonthreat to yourself and society. I tried that, it just made me feel even emptier, useless, unmotivated, uncontrolable and dosile all at once. I saw nothing as to why I have such memory issues, frustrations, moments where I lose myself and take it out on others. Why I cannot seem to just be myself, whoever that is. Why I can be calm and sweet and trustworthy and just of a general nature that I do possess and that I normally portray but yet I seem to slip out of that and into someone totally different and who does thigns I find myself regretting only moments later. Why I look for happiness in the places it does not live, why I abuse myself, why I must justify my actions instead of jsut acepting blame, though i always try to take my consequencces like a man. Why I fear hurting those around me so badly that I jsut wish they would not care, so I could not have such power.. then I push them away, I attack their affectiona nd I hurt them still.
These are all things I have dealt with, these are things I learned to control through therapy and meditation, but it seems like more than ever when the stress starts my hold on that side is slipping more and more, and I find myself alone in its aftermath, in fear of its begining, Can anyone else suggest anything, cause I really have no more ideas, I feel I am at the end of my rope, all i do is work, and though the money is good to have it is not for the right reason, I do it to stay busy so I dont have to face these things.. and I cant do it anymore. But I cannot give up, I do not wish to give up, i just wish to fix myself which is why i think i feel the need to fix others. Not that I am qualified for either task.