Saturday, 1 September 2012

A place for truth.

I know I've tried to be cheerful in the first posts. I know that's why it didn't stick. Besides, no one knows I'm here. I'm completely fine with being invisible. It's what I wish for every day. I imagine myself fading away so clearly I can nearly see the chair through where my legs should be. And then it snaps back.

I haven't spoken in over a year.

And all I keep thinking to myself is that I don't know how much longer I can do this. They promise things and change their minds on such a rote basis that I don't... I can't believe them any more.

And I end up hanging around. Staring at the walls in the small hours of the morning imagining myself and my bed at the center of a golden net, shimmering within a bubble you can almost not see. On bad days that is encased in an impenetrable opalescent barrier. Because that's the only way I can sleep. And I can almost see it. I know it's there. Sometimes I watch the stars through the layers as I wander round the sky in my safe, warm and comfortable bubble. And I'm still sad.

Other people deserve this so much more than I do... I wish and wish and hope one day I'll be good enough but the fact is I won't. Ever. And I know that, and I'm so tired. I want to fall asleep and never wake up. I know our world is a fantastic place but my dreams, huge libraries with spiral staircases and forests that are safe, and one place I come back to over and over.

It's a field of daffodils and dandelions. There's a huge tree in the middle of it and sometimes  I sleep up in the branches where I know I'll never fall. Because this tree is sentient. It knows when I'm sad, or hungry. It knows exactly how much I need it to let me curl up in the sun-warmed field with one tendril held out to me. It knows when I need to hide, even in this place. It can make me almost calm.

And even then I'm not safe.

The walls and rooms and people and animals who roam the corridors of where my brain should be are there. Not because I want them to, but they are there. The gerbils are purely systemic. They work to preserve some semblance of this. But then I open my eyes and it's here. And it's grey and concrete and reality has no give, no wriggle room.

Honestly, I can't believe I end up with insomnia.

I live inside my head. I don't get a break, not even in the magical corners which allow me places I would have loved before. It's still in there. Burrowing away. I don't know what it is. But after so long I think we can discount it as benign.

If it weren't for my family there wouldn't be any kind of argument. I love them. I want them to be happy.

I feel like I spent my whole childhood striving to be the most grown up, the one who would cuddle people with skinned knees and sensible. Reliable. And above all: out of trouble.

I'm living my life in reverse. Because now I need someone to hold my hand. I need... I want that back. I want to be able to colour and not worry about it being weird. I want to make stupid mistakes. I want to get into trouble. Not big trouble. Little kid stuff. I want bedtime stories and knowing absolutely that nothing bad will happen because someone is there. Someone brave who can fight the nightmares and tell me everything's going to be alright and punish me if I do something wrong because... Because afterwards everything is alright again. And yes, I got that last bit with my parents. But none of the catharsis. I still feel guilty for bursting into tears at the age of roughly seven because this toy was suddenly the single most important thing  in my universe and I hadn't got enough pocket money. In the end my parents bought it.

I don't even know what this is. And even if I found someone willing to join this merry parade of insanity I'm willing to bet they wouldn't be willing to deal with the panic attacks, the BPD, the clinginess and then the sudden certainty they're only there because they haven't had a chance to leave me there because of the aforementioned clinginess. And then there's the mutism, the crushing guilt attacks, the inexplicable crying, the withdrawals from various antidepressant and antianxiety drugs. The hysterical arguments with myself that mean I end up out of my body.

What's more is I can't even begin to decide to try and find people who feel like this. I know they exist because I have read stories and things that made me think that they have the kind of relationship I'd really like. Well... like. I don't know if that's the right word. It is not the right word. I more mean... crave. But I can't do anything about it regardless of word choices. Because I can't and I won't throw all of this into someone's lap and ask them to help. Sometimes I can't even write stuff down for my mother. And she is the only one I can write to more or less reliably.

I have this fantasy of having to email a person every day. Someone who won't let it go if I maybe lie a bit or forget to go to bed or eat or maybe obsess about having things the way they have to be.

I promised myself back when going to uni was a viable option I'd look about then. When I was living away from home and everything then I'd see. But that never happened because my brain happened. So now it's this indefinite limbo thing that drives me nuts. I'm only writing this to get it out of my system... And apparently the fact that none of this is about sex is even weirder than wanting (er... see previous syntax brain argument for details) this.

So yes. There's that too.

I suppose it would help if I stopped dreaming and came back to earth with the fact that it probably is never going to happen due to a mixture of a) cowardice and b) psychiatric everything. Have you seen what they say to people who ask for help on how to be with people with borderline personality disorder? Because it is more or less "RUN! HIDE! MOVE COUNTRIES, DYE YOUR HAIR AND CHANGE YOUR NAME AND EVEN THEN YOU WILL NOT BE SAFE MY BEST MATE'S HAMSTER'S COUSIN IN LAW'S GIRLFRIEND HAD IT AND SHE WAS A TOTAL NUTJOB! SHE WOULDN'T LET HIM EAT ANYTHING WITHOUT CHEESE!" and if not that then there's the 'properly medicated' side of things  which is all very well in pricnciple but none of the medications have worked on me. So... based on this long whatever this is and whatever I think it probably won't happen.

I really am nuts to think someone would do that for me. What in the name of sanity have I just written?

Yes, this has been a total whine-fest. You must have the patience of an extremely patient person.