I know that BPD doesn't define me, obviously. I have felt somewhat hopeful ever since my shrink said I'm officially a 'high functioning borderline'. I had to ask myself, was I really honest during my sessions or did I tell him what he wanted to hear? Did I tell him what I wanted to believe? No, no, no. I was serious. Right? I have many men... many admirers and I haven't been turning to them, more or less I am turning them down... well, I did... just once. Then on Christmas I realized that I didn't need him anymore. All was forgotten. It's a new year and he's not here. It's been going smoothy so far. There isn't that stab of loneliness or that empty feeling in my chest, as trite as that sounds. I think I just finally woke up and realized things for what they were. I always knew it but maybe I was afraid to be alone, I don't feel so much that way anymore... not completely, anyway.
Something he said though this weekend kind of haunted me though. He looked at the floor and verbatim he said, looking into his hands, "I think it's damn interesting that you're borderline." At the time I brushed it off before I could start to dissect the sentence and let it's weight sit on me, before his words could shift and transform into this tumultuous tidal wave. I don't know. It kind of made me feel like an experiment but then I started to think... is this an experiment for me or is it an experiment for him? I can't really explain it in detail or my justifications without revealing too much so I understand it's cryptic and I'm ok with that.
I find that ever since my diagnosis last December that I've been trying to identify the faulty pieces of myself and bubble cluster them into categories as a means of trying to understand why I do the things that I do to men, or people in general. I often ask myself am I really naive or do I know exactly what I'm doing but I'm burying it so deep that I can't see or remember what the truth is? Do I get some sick satisfaction from breaking hearts and can I really trick men into thinking that I'm totally into them? Or do I genuinely at the time being think that I'm into them? Is this all under the illusion of idealization?
I remember a strange sense of power that I used to feel when asked to stay (even if I wanted to) I always left and came off as nonchalant. You pull up your pants, look at the ground and then your watch, they tell you to 'stay'... you smile, shake your head and then bounce out of there. I could feel the sadness and heaviness I left and the liberation that ensued after closing a door and jumping into my car. Shamefully, I used to even whisper 'sucker' under my breath as I started the ignition. I never told my shrink this... I never told anybody this, well until now... because what does it even matter if it was in the past? Realizing this... I guess I did know what I was doing... but why? And did I ever leave unhurt or guiltless? Never! Sometimes I would right away, sometimes it'd take weeks or months but these things always hurt me and I could never shake the guilt.
"Don't be surprised if I cut you off or never speak to you again." I said yesterday and once again, I felt like the girl behind the steering wheel whispering "sucker" under her breath. Only this time, I felt like I was speaking directly to myself right after I said it.
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