From yet another one of my blogs

Things that make me go ARGH! –

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From Inside the Borderline

Valentine’s Day.  It usually depresses me because I’m usually alone.  Interesting that it’s different this year, especially considering that I, just a few days ago, screwed up another friendship.

Maybe it’s because I’m finally getting it.  I have to learn to be alone.  I felt free after I got over the initial embarrassment of what happened with Ron.  Free.  It was as if I’d been trapped.  Not trapped by Ron, he didn’t do anything wrong, but trapped – maybe by the idea of relationship.  I’m not really sure.

I think I’m finally accepting the concept that in order to find myself I have to do it myself.  I do need friends, a support system, but relationships only mess me up and I end up messing the guy up as well.  I need to stay on my own.  I won’t be able to rebuild myself if I don’t.

When in a…

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Not so comfortably numb

From Inside the Borderline

I recently met a very nice man.  Very intelligent and easy to talk to.  Every time we’ve been together we’ve been able to talk a lot together.  Not something I’m used to…

He got me to talk about something I’d never been able to verbalize before.


Or, rather, my lack thereof.

Emotions I have.  Like most borderlines, I’m extremely emotional.  They come on fast and often overwhelm me.

But then there’s feeling.  On occasion I feel frustrated, but mostly bored.  Sometimes, I feel a flush of affection for my children and, more frequently, a flush of sheer terror at the thought of them being taken away from me.  But the majority of the time, I don’t feel anything.  That’s the thing that frightens me.

I think that’s the main reason I can’t keep a relationship.  I can spend time with a man and enjoy his company, but I feel nothing…

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Looking for an answer

If you check out my other blogs recent posts, you can see what’s been going on.

Last night my right leg became completely useless.  Something that hasn’t happened since before I met my second ex-husband – at least 10 years.  I was so pissed about it, I bawled like a baby feeling sorry for myself.  I even posted on Facebook about how much God must hate me for allowing that to happen the day after I realized that I missed Him.

Of course I realize today that the enemy was screwing with me, the way he likes to mess with anyone showing a glimmer of faith in God.

BTW, my leg is working today.

I’m starting a book I bought a while ago.  Becoming Myself by Stasi Eldredge.  Since who the heck am I is the most inundating question going on in my head right now, now seemed like a good idea to start with this book and it’s study guide.

I’ve also started a Facebook group to see if anyone wants to join me.

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I wrote this the day before I turned 41.  I ended it with “I’d rather 42 never came.”

Well, 42 came yesterday.

Things are quite different than they were a year ago.

I still suffer from a great deal of physical pain and a mental disorder, but I’m doing much better.

Thanks primarily to my 17yo son, I’m starting to realize that I am the best mother for my children.  And they do love me and need me like I need them.

I met a man about 8 months ago who can only have been sent by God.  He’s been witness to many of my mental meltdowns and has stuck by me, being about the only one who has said he knows that the nutcase I become when I have a meltdown is not the real me.  We’ve split up about 6 times, but can’t really stay away from each other.  I drastically hurt him a few weeks ago by breaking up with him quite abruptly.  I had realized that I needed him, and it terrified me and made me feel like I was being too weak and not relying on God enough.  Then I realized that needing someone wasn’t a bad thing and oddly enough, he still wanted to be with me and so we’re back together.

I am, however, 42 and not doing much.

I am doing better at maintaining a relatively clean home.  I’m doing a little better at being involved in my kids schooling and activities.

But it’s still not up to my satisfaction.

However, I’m much more able to be forgiving of myself for having to do absolutely everything in tiny baby steps.  I think that makes a pretty big difference.

Having to do things small and slow doesn’t make you weak anymore than needing someone does.  Actually, I think it makes you smart.  Jumping in the lake head first and seeing if you can swim probably doesn’t work very often, and quite honestly, that’s how I often tended to do things; which probably accounts for my many, many failures.

So, for now, I’m just going with the flow, trusting God more and trusting myself more.

I still wish I could see some type of a future for me; a future that involves some type of accomplishment.  I still see nothing ahead of me.  I’m starting to wonder if my only accomplishment will be to have my kids like me enough that I can move in with them when I get old.

I can honestly say, however, that the lack of future foresight isn’t quite as scary or depressing as it was a year ago.

Even at 42, God isn’t finished with me yet, and I’m far less finished with me than I used to be.

Maybe that’s an accomplishment in itself.


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The Sum of My Life

In the beginning I was extremely intelligent, could sing, and could write creatively.

My body has never worked well.  As a child I was too tall and skinny and would twist an ankle every time I ran – I also had scoliosis, which makes the ability to bend or jump quite limited.

Things got really bad during my second pregnancy and between that one and the third, I could walk only with a cane, if at all.

Chronic tendinitis developed in my right wrist (and I am right handed) over the years till it became debilitating about 5 years ago.  On bad days, I can’t hold a pencil or wipe my own ass.  I’ve had to learn to do a lot of things left handed and I don’t do any of them well.

Then I had a mental break down 2 and a half years ago.  My brain basically emptied of everything that meant anything to me.  It fell to pieces and still hasn’t sorted itself out.

Thus end my intelligence.  I can get confused trying to follow a recipe.

I haven’t been able to write creatively in a long time.  I can’t even spell words correctly.  Long ago I tried to read a book I think was called Intensity by Dean Koontz…I didn’t get past the first chapter because he descriptive style painted too real a picture.  I’ve tried to read a different Dean Koontz novel recently and I can’t.  He describes everything in such minute detail it bores me.  But it doesn’t paint a picture anymore.  Not even a vague one.

Thus ends my creativity.  I couldn’t even create an invitation for my dad’s 70th birthday party.

As for singing, I’m getting deafer as time goes on.  I already have one hearing aid and will soon have two.  And besides, the joy I used to have in singing is gone.  I spent all last summer trying to find it again and it wasn’t there.

Thus ends my singing.

So what sums up my life now?


Just 3 children I gave birth to, one who has nothing to do with me, one who hates me one day and tolerates me the next, and one who prefers her aunt because she has the means to give her more than I can.

So, nothing.

Thus is the sum of my life.


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How do you get a life when all you’ve done is exist?



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