Dealing with feelings.

I'm going to start a workbook for BPDs. I've read through Chapter 1. Tonight I'm going to bed early and I'm going to do something good for myself tomorrow morning when I wake up.

I treated Dean so badly these past several years. My BPD wrath finally caught up with me, and I've hurt a relationship, that may be the single most important relationship I've ever had, and ever will have, with a man.

He emailed me a few times last week. It isn't the same. The damage is done. Dealing with these feelings is hard. I'm over the rage. The rage and the pain of his rejection. There is nothing left to burn, nothing left to tear up, nothing left to delete. All the presents, pictures, love letters, all gone. Vacation photos, things he gave me, I ruined them, threw them away, over the years, during my BPD fits of rage. I threw our relationship in the gutter. It's all my fault. And now he's gone. He's not completely gone, but he's tired and he's lost hope that I will ever change and just be nice for a change.

He gave me a little parchment paper journal that his father brought him from Egypt, I tore it up a few years ago when we were mad at eachother. A beautiful ceramic Lotus his mother gave me as a gift when I last visited her home in Houston, I smashed it during an outburst.

My sweetest lover, the only father I've ever known, my brother, my best friend, he's truly had his fill.

How it hurts, but I'm dealing. I could just get into the car and smash it into a brick wall at 60 miles per hour, listening to the loudest, most depressing music I could find, but instead I choose to just climb into bed, for it is 32 degrees outside, turn off the television and read my book for a little while until I fall asleep, than tomorrow, I rise with the sun and do something terrific.

I forgot to mention...

My druggie life is a nightmare.

Did I happen to mention I'm bulimic? Maybe I did. It's a little known fact that I forget to tell people sometimes ;-) I happened to mention today at work that I "used to" make myself puke for about a year to loose weight. Ha! I'm such a liar.

I don't do it all the time, like maybe I do it about 4-5 meals out of the week. When I eat fast food. Ugh. I did it in a major way last night. I came home from work feeling like shit and starving, I ate about $10.00 in fastfood than, that disgusting full feeling hit so I forced myself to puke it up only it wouldn't come up so I had to keep trying and it hurt my throat and my head. So, today, I was late for work, my entire body was hurting all day and my head has been pounding. I took one 10mg vicodin, than, about an hour later, took another 7.5mg. I fucked up at work all day long, not giving a shit and even looked like hell with hair all frizzy and crazy in a bun cause I didn't have time to fix it this morning. When I got home just now I could barely walk, I felt so weak and just wanted to eat the entire house. I was so pissed cause as usual the only thing in the fridge are condiments and some organic milk that I decided to roll a joint and go to KFC. I only ordered the grilled chicken breast w/ a grilled drumstick, a biscuit, and mashed potatoes without the gravy. I don't feel so bad I guess.

I want to stop, everything, ya know. Before it's to late and I'm in my 40s and have wasted an entire youth on self destruction leading up to a wasted, old, unhealthy body with lines all over my face. I'm only 32 years old, people mistake me for being 24-25 all the time. I can see the wear and tear on this face, the tiny line inbetween my eyes that seems to get more and more profound every day, the tiny lines that have just appeared under microscopic mirror that were never there before.

My, my, my, I feel so much better. My head still hurts and my back is aching, my shoulders and feet are throbbing. I feel calmer though. When I got home I was sobbing.

What is wrong with me? This can't be normal ya know. I don't want to end my life but I don't have anything to look forward to. Life just keeps going on. My niece and nephew are all I live for.

There is a meteor shower tonight. I'm going to blame it on that for now. I'd do anything for a massage. That would solve all my worries.

The awful truth is that nobody really cares about me. People say they do but in the end it's not the way I need them to care. I'm a vampire sucking the care and concern right out of them. I miss Dean so much and he just takes my money than ignores me all week long. I wish I would die in my sleep. I hate my life. I am empty with nothing left to give. I'm just a purposeless loser, a slave to this system of greed and material wealth. Does everybody feel this way? Am I crazy or am I just too real for my own good. I wish a satellite would fall from the sky and land on my head.

Had sex this afternoon with somebody I've known for about 7 years but know nothing about him, including his real name. We fuck once every few months when I'm strapped for cash. He usually pays me $200.00 but he only gave me $173.00 today, said his daughter took his ATM card. Go figure.

I went to Target immediately afterwards.

I don't mind having sex with him. He's attractive, well built and well hung. I close my eyes and try to pretend I'm somewhere else though. It still felt good, in a way.

If it was Dean it would feel better. I don't even kiss this person. With Dean there is love and passion. This was a thirteen minute payday.

But of course I feel guilty as he'll for doing it. I feel like Mary Magdalane all over again. Thank God for prescription pills. Lorazepam .5, two of them and a brownie and some icecream. I also smoked a little off this roach i found in my truck.

I hate my life.

Another day another dollar. Honey bees are rapidly disappearing. Another pending catastrophe to keep me awake at night. Lovely.

I feel so alone. Tired. Work is insane. The only thing that gets me through the days are my vicodin pills.

I ate too much pizza and brownies today. Other that that all week was devoted to whole grains, omega 3 and vegetables.

Miss Dean so much, but in the long run our relationship won't last. I don't see him being dedicated enough to stay with me into my 40s and 50s. I'm going to die alone. Just like Morrissey.

Went back to work. Good thing my resumè is updated. I'm not sure I can do what I'm doing for much longer. The stress is insane. I'm on vicodin 7.5 two or three times a day. My antidepressant is working ok. No pot so far. Back to work today. I'm happy though, for how long I wonder.

Head is still secured tightly to neck.

Mental healthcare in Texas is a joke. You can find a doctor who does medication management and therapy but charges $300.00 per session and doesn't accept insurance. Than, you find a doctor who is covered 100% under your policy but all he does is peddle medication, no therapy. I've given up on doctors completely.

It's been a long day. I cried so much that I hyperventilated and almost passed out.

I keep thinking about the big tree in the backyard. I could throw a noose around it, call the police and hang myself all before Mom came home from work. It's just a thought. I wouldn't dare. I just love everybody so damn much.

I just wish I knew what was going to happen.

Okay

I need to get my head in order. Thank God for weed.

Thank God for Mom. She rearranged my furniture and cleaned and helped me organize. Still need to go through clothes to take to Goodwill.

The dog being here this weekend as well as the kids was very taxing. I love them so much though. Poor little guys. I was so crazy, mean, irritable, and lazy! Again, thank God for Mom. She does it all at sixty years old. Mom has a full-time job she likes, takes care of everybody, sees to the house, the yard - but I can't take care of myself!

Mental illness, drug addiction, athritis and chronic back pain. All at 32 years old. Can I change my life at this point? Is it worth saving?

I'm dying to get back to work and stop feeling sorry for myself. Or, if I can't go back to work for my current job, which I've been off for the past month and a half on my medical hiatus (disability), at least find a new job.

I have nobody to talk to about my problems. Nobody. My entire life is an embarrassing lie. I can do drugs with my friends, but I can't talk to them about my problems with work, stress, borderline personality, my fucked up past, my traumatizing childhood. The truth is, nobody really cares about other peoples problems.

I've thought of going to confession. I'm so scared though. It's so weird being brought up Catholic. I am scared to death. I feel like I've been cast out. I know if I felt Jesus' love again I could live again. Sounds crazy I know it does. I'm like a fallen angel. A part of me feels Agnostic though. I just don't know. It's like that movie Dogma. I guess that's why he wrote it. People really do go through this.

Than there's the people that do care about my problems. Dean. Dean especially. And Mom. And my sister. These people care a lot. But I can't tell them because I could never let them know these awful things I'm so ashamed of. I could never tell April either. And she cares.

At least Dean and I are friends again. I will have to lie to him about my whereabouts and actions since Wednesday night. So sad. So much deceit. I love that sweet caring man. Funny thing is I still see him as a boy. But he's not. He's a man. And he's right about so many things. Wish I didn't have to let him down everyday.

Let's see how long my sanity will last this time around. Tomorrow is Monday. It's a brand new day. My favorite day. I know people hate Mondays, but for me it's like a new beginning. =)

I miss the kids. They sprinkle happiness everywhere they go.

I'm cramping so bad and haven't stopped eating all day.

Tostadas and a Dirty Jobs marathon on Discovery. What a way to pass the time.

FML

Fuck my life. Not only does my life suck because I am a loser with no job and no ambition to get one, but I am a loser because I can't control myself long enough to stay sober for even 1 solid week. So, let's see. Wednesday I drank many drinks, which led to many lines of cocaine, which led to me feeling like utter pathetic shit on Thursday, which led to me being a major bitch to my family on Friday. Than of course I drank again Friday night to get away from them which led to rudeness all weekend long. Now comes the depression.

Life's sweetest little things: My niece and nephew following the scent of pancakes to the kitchen, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, while their greatful aunt gleefully prepares breakfast.

Eat like a skinny girl.

Okay, so I smoked some weed earlier today. I swore I wouldn't stuff my face full of garbage. So, I made brown rice and baked chicken. I had a salad to hold me over. Of course, I ate enough chicken and rice to satisfy at least two normal people. The only bad thing about smoking pot. It gives me this insatiable hunger that fogs my mind. I will shovel food into my mouth, mindlessly.

So, I watched Ninotchka starring Greta Garbo. Her beauty and grace is timeless. Hard to look away from her while she's on the screen. Her laughter and smile is enchanting. I don't believe any actress today holds a candle to Greta Garbo. Not one.

So, my stomach feels bloated and full. Luckily, I don't have any more pot unless somebody comes by tomorrow for a toke or I seek it out myself.

I listened to Abnormally Attracted to Sin 7 times total today. I am abnormally attracted to sin. Like a magnet.

The addict in me is dormant - for now.

So, I say so a lot. Need to stop that.

Define me.

I am life experience and regret. Also torn apart, alone, abandoned, ashamed. Together, love, hate, anger, worthiness, pity.

Worthiness. Now that's a new one.

I used to think I was worthless. I still think that way, sometime. Or maybe it's because worthlessness is a part of me. But so is worthiness. She's a part of me. The one that's worthy. There is more than one part of me.

Tori Amos is my acting muse for the day. "Abnormally Addicted to Sin" has been the back drop for my doctor's appointment today trip and wait. I listened to it on the way to physical therapy. I listened to it while I sipped my coffee and ate my Spinach Florentine.

The burning question is: How does one go back to the way they were? How do I get to before my innocent little eyes were exposed to pain and the evil layed ahead. My evil dad who I get embarrassed talking about. The drug addiction. Sin.

I need my Father. Lord, when I think about doing my Sacrement of Penence.

Why can't I manage? I'm suffering from something that's programed. The scars on my arms from when I cut myself with a lady bic during a cocaine induced nervous breakdown back in the late 90s. I'm still nursing those scars. Probably my biggest regret. Besides for all the sex. SEX. Something I crave but something that also repulses me at this point in my life.

Well. Yesterday I decided I was going to rub vitamin E oil on my little scars everyday for six months. And I was also going to slowly forgive myself of them. Each of them.

But what am I going to do about these men in my life now? The one who means well and the one who's just a prick.

And the Catholic church. What am I going to do about that?

Jesus. Oh Jesus. I love Him, You. But I don't think it's Jesus I need to be praying to. It's her. It's that little girl inside me who begs to be forgiven.

I love my guardian angels protecting me here on earth.

People who have real jobs, real lives, but who think I'm worthy enough stick around for. So, I guess that does mean I'm worthy.

What's wrong with me I always wonder. Why am I capable of so much evil? So many Christian values I forgot along the way.

Blah blah blah.

Don't judge me. I'm trying. And I feel a little better now.