I haven’t written my blog for over a week – I’m very aware of that. I am also aware that I haven’t responded to any of your blogs either and I hope you will forgive me my selfishness. This isn’t because I don’t care about you. Please don’t think that, because that is far from the truth. I’ve just been feeling so far down in my pit that I haven’t been able to see over the edge into the real world.

I first posted this YouTube video over two years ago. I know many of you will have seen this before and many of you, if you have BPD may have watched this at some time. I know it makes disturbing watching but can you begin to imagine what if feels like to live with this every day? Well, this is me. Welcome to my world.

(On the plus side is the fact that I have, at last  managed to change my care agency and now have the kindest, most considerate carer I could wish for, called *T*). Even when I am feeling at my lowest, she is like a breath of fresh air and always ‘lifts’ me, and however I am feeling, she always gives me a big hug. I love her to bits already which I know I shouldn’t, and I know I have become attached to her and am terrified of losing her. She has worked with me for one whole week now but of course, has to have time off like everyone else. At the moment, I don’t yet know who will replace her while she is on leave but I am already so afraid of losing her. I tell myself “I must not get attached, I must not get attached, I must not get attached”, but all in vain as it is too late. I am. I hear the questions that are so predictable: “Will she come back? Will she still like me? Am I going to lose her? I am already so afraid.

My family situation has not changed. I tried to contact my daughter to offer to go and visit her on Tuesday and she left a message on my ansafone this morning just at the time she knew I would be at church, saying she was busy (in a cool, detached voice). It hurt. I really hurt It’s like she is taking a dagger and plunging it through my heart. Rejection. Rejection. Rejection. Yet again; still. Why do I expect any different? Shouldn’t I be used to getting hurt by now? Why do I always get my hopes up, only to have them dashed time and time again. I felt so bad this afternoon, I resorted to self-harming (nothing serious; just a few scratches) but nevertheless my feelings ran so deep and I was full of self-disgust and anger, that was the result. I didn’t plan it; I didn’t think about it first. It was just an automatic reaction, my coping mechanism.

Now….Enough!! I have spoken too much already. I have let too much of myself out. I feel ashamed; I want to hide; I hurt; I hurt so much: I want that everlasting sleep to come.

Not a word more.

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