[Scorpio Eyes]

I'm writing this on my smartphone, so bear with me if this comes out a little chaotic. More chaotic, really. I just really need to vent right now, because caging myself completely and denying my impulses and urges, without giving in to anything, is the only way I can control them. All or nothing, with no inbetween.

To be blunt, I'm losing my mind. There is so much I'm questioning, right now; so much I no longer have certainty in. Not only do I have no idea who I am, I have no idea what I am. Am I just using all these diagnoses as an excuse for my behavior? Am I just trying to find an excuse for me being a lazy, self-indulgent, self-important, ball of emotional immaturity and refusal to accept responsibility for anything? Are my memory loss and warped perception just mental gymnastics and self-serving for me to believe I'm something I'm not? This knot in my stomach, the audiable pulsing veins across my body, and my bloodshot, sunken eyes just my body trying to force me to realize what's wrong with me? That I'm just a spoiled, selfish, emotionally volitile sociopath? That's what I've been told and I think I'm starting to believe it.

Am I wrong for wanting somebody to talk about the immense pain inside of me? It reaches the point of dependency; I need constant affirmation, even for the simplest tasks. Everything from the stupidest little insecurities to my hardest life decisions requires polling and seeking from others. At the same time, I'm pushing people away and avoiding as much contact as possible. It's like an anxiety attack everytime I leave my room. I'm lonely and miserable, but I can't handle other people. I exist in that space between insane and insecure; still in reality but so neurotic that there's no place for me here. Just to alieve this tension for a short time, why is that wrong? Because, I've forced people to. Maybe I don't have empathy, maybe I can't reach what empathy I do have because of this tirade of feelings I need to keep in check. But, I put so much of my burden on others it burns them out and drives them to leave me, to hate me. Sometimes, I just need to drown this out, to put this constant misery out of mind. Sometimes, I just want to get high. Now I pop pills, just so I can numb it.

I'm angry. All the time. For no reason. I'm always angry, and I hate it. When I think back on my life, all I can remember are the bad memories. There are good ones, but all the focus is on the bad, because my fear and pain outweigh my happiness. Constantly told what to think, what to feel, what to believe, and put in my place. Whatever I feel is wrong and I have no right to feel that way. What I think is wrong and that's the end of it. What I believe is heresy and I'm terrible for it. Even when people ask, they dismiss and invalidate whatever I feel, think, and believe. Constantly, I'm told what seems to be how wrong I am and the factuality of my incorrectness. In my childhood, my family would fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, become violent and unreasonable, all for no discernable reason. My life has been surrounded by anger. As a teenager, I became angry. Furious. Frighteningly so. But my anger is wrong and I have no right to it. Yeah, I know.

What's pissing me off is how I'm just not good enough for everyone I want approval from. My grandfather could care less if I lived or died. My mother refuses to understand and simply doesn't care, because she thinks I'm just a genius with an inflated ego who throws tantrums. My father refuses responsibility, lies to me, dismisses me openly, refuses to communicate, has no respect for me, and doesn't think I have value besides being his vicarious chance to live young again. There's no talking to the man and I just can't deal with him anymore. The girl I loved played with my feelings, relished the power she had over me, and openly expresses disgust, even after I poured my heart, soul, and spirit out to her, when we know so much about each other, been through so much together, and even knows about my damaged pysche. My best friends are all gone, just... gone. Why am I not good enough?! I try so damn hard to please you; I've changed the only parts of my personality I actually have to make you happy. Nothing. Nothing is good enough.

I still can't get her out of my head. I keep mumbling her name under my breath and playing situations out in my head like a broken VHS. I feel bad for what I did, but I'm not the only one who ****ed up. Just the only one who admits it. What's worse is that I can't REMEMBER anything. My recollection is gone. For all I know, she did admit it, but got over the guilt a lot faster than me. You know, she probably did. She's cried in my arms, and I hers. Something that's been driving me crazy is that I can't say with any level of certainty that I really did love her, and not just went obsessive with my overwhelming emotions towards a shadow of a person. I love you, I hate you, I can't live without you, I can't stand being near, don't leave me, I want nothing to do with you. Pushing and pulling from one moment to the next. She couldn't give me what I needed and I don't fault her for that. I'm angry because she let us go as far as we did. I was teased, led on, and given utter intimacy, but denied any gratification. How do you stick your hand down someone's pants, but say you aren't anything more than just friends? How do you sleep in the same bed, three quarters naked, with someone but say you have no intention for sex? How do you feel abandoned and betrayed, say you trust someone more than anything in the world and then refuse to even hear an apology when he's suffered the consequences for his actions?! How?! She said she trusted me not to take advantage of her, that I was too concerned with sex at the end of everything, and that she had done so much for me and I so little for her. Citing the stupidest petty things, when I had done the same, just not kept track of it for guilt trips. Yeah, I was horny as Hell, but when someone cockteases you for six months and refuses to ever finish what she starts, you'd be too. I never took advantage of her. When she was in need, I did what I could. I even gave her my blessing when she met a new guy and got with him the day after we spent a night in bed together. Sex is weird for me. I'm both repulsed by promiscuity and desperate for relief. Nothing boiled my blood more than knowing she was in bed with the jackass who treated her like Hell and she enjoyed driving me insane with her body. The mere fact I went as far as I did is a serious sign of trust. I trusted her with everything. I gave her a piece of my soul. My perspective is warped and my opinions, memories, and really any sense regarding our history, the details of events, and whatever feelings I have cannot be trusted. At all. Even I know my connection to reality is weak. Everything has to be filtered through this superconducting insanity of emotion that I have to bind more securely then Odin bound Fenrisulfr. With the same destructive consequences when released, too. I don't even know if I really loved her or if those feelings were my madness. I don't know how right these memories are and why they bother me so much. For the life of me, I don't know I focus so much on this. It makes no sense, but my life revolves around it.

When I said I suffered the consequences of my actions, I wasn't joking. I've been in chronic pain since March, which comes and goes, and me never knowing if the peace will last. The stronger my physical and emotional exertion, the worse the pain. Chronic fatigue has left me drained and barely able to function. I'm constantly getting oral infections because what teeth I have left are breaking apart, causing me even more pain. There's half a dozen reasons for my oral situation, from apathy to a genetic disorder to a history of anxiety. I vomitted six times a day for two years because I couldn't deal with my anxiety. By June, I wasn't able to stand under my own power, relying on a cane to deal with balance, support, and to compensate for the damaged muscle tissue in my right knee. I was starving, constantly going to doctors, and in terrible pain. Slept for twenty hours at a time and damn near died from the various sicknesses. That's not exaggeration, when I was in the E.R. they told me the blood infection was going to kill me and it's amazing it hadn't already. I lost all my money on pills, medical bills, and rent. My family wanted nothing to do with me, hated me, even. They outright said I was a dangerous sociopath that wasn't welcome. I was losing weight, constantly sweating out infection, viruses, and exertion of the heart. Forty pounds, gone. Two months of my life I can barely remember because I was sleeping through all of it. I lost all my friends. Nobody wanted anything to do with the obsessive mood-swinger who couldn't be predicted or controlled, the disgusting self-centered asshole who couldn't keep his promises. I lost everything. It led me to suicide and I even failed at that. When my grandmother finally took me in and showed me the first kindness I'd seen in a long time, I was barely sane, sick beyond reason, and effectivly crippled. If that isn't the consequences of my ****ing actions, then nothing is. I almost died, lost everything important to me, and my body up and quit. I'm still recovering, too.

The knot in my stomach from anxiety, self-hatred, and pain is making me nauseas and keeping me from eating. The physical exhaustion is exacerbating my emotional exhaustion from trying to hold all of this inside of me, because if I let it lose in the analog world, I will lose everything again. I don't have much, but what I do have is mine - it's important to me. My friends, what little family I have, my intelligence, and what little respect I've managed to hold onto. How can I not hate myself? I have no sense of identity. I'm not some abstract concept I've tried defining myself by, some title or pretentious philosophy a high school sophomore thought was brilliant: I'm nothing. I'm absolutely nothing. My emotions fluctuate between ridiculous extremes of anger, passion, jealousy, infatuation, bitterness, grief, and sorrow faster than most people blink. Whatever causes that, it means I can't trust what I feel. Anything related to emotion is intertwined with mental illness. Despite my intelligence and potential, I've done nothing with it. Wasted it. Slacked off, lazed about, entitled to so much I thought it'd come naturally. I was wrong. There is so much about me that deserves hatred. My utter lack of selfcontrol even keeps other people from getting close. Even the ones I let in.

I am so utterly exhausted. I'm tired and that's the only word for it. I'm tired of all the pain, the weakness, the exhaustion, tired of losing myself, tired of being a slave to my emotions, tired of my emotions fluctuating without explanation, tired of being alone, tired of pushing everyone away, tired of having no control over myself, tired of not knowing what's real, tired of holding back tears, tired of the tears not coming, tired of being starved for attention, approval, validation, and acceptance, tired of being tired. Nothing in my life makes sense and I can't even cope with the simplest problems. There's nothing special or especially difficult about my existence and yet it overwhelms me. Why am I so weak? Why do I let people treat me like I'm worthless? Why do I treat myself like I'm worthless? Where is the sense of pride, confidence, and worthiness that I ought to posses? There are papers and experiences that say I'm a genius, so why is this so ****ing hard?! Shouldn't I be smart enough to act on logic and reason?! Shouldn't this IQ let me remember things, retain information, and process the data of the day without an explosion of self-destructive emotion. Everything I am is emotion. Did they lie to me? Am I really just a shmuck without a sense of smarts who's weaker than everyone else? Am I the bottom of the totem pole? The last in the pecking order? The omega male no woman could love, not even his mother? If I'm so smart, why do I still hurt so ****ing much?! I'm an idiot, to think that I could change anything. Life is such because it is. Within the infinite parallel universes, I exist in the box with the dead cat. Somewhere in a universe far away, I'm probably happy - but that doesn't do me much good. In this reality, I'm miserable.

Can anyone of you tell me this is right? Affirm to me that I'm not completely out of my mind? If we all have the same disorder, than some of you have to know how I feel, right? They say I'm an Idealist, a Dreamer, a Healer. For a long time I've wanted to be special. To make an iimpact on this world. Once upon a time, when I was younger, I wanted to set it on fire so it could know my pain, maybe leave it colder - darker, to experience the nothing as I do. Then I thought, why not change things for the better? Prevent people like me from being created. To be a Hero. Clearly, I ****ed up. Turns out I'm less like the nigh-Messianic Luke Skywalker, and more akin the tragic, almost Byronic, "hero" of his father. The obligitory Star Wars metaphor is done. That's what keeps me somewhat able to believe. Using metaphor, similie, adege, proverb, and analogy to make sense of everything in this abstract, undefinable world of ours. Please, can any of you help me help myself? Maybe I just need a hug. I'll accept anything, really. Even if you want to tear me a new one, I'll welcome it. Just share what you can discern from the chaos of my mind.

[Kate9843123]

there are a lot of things going on with you, but its not punishment for anything you did. someonetimes we get a bad hand. you got a bad hand but this isnt anything you could control, at least not yet. I am sorry that you lack a support system. do you have a psychologist? someone who will help you learn to deal with everything your feeling? as you gain tools, you will feel in more control and less likely to have a reason to "blame" your actions on your illness. you are not wrong to want to talk to someone....we all need to talk to people and feel like we have approval. if these things seem like they are overwhelming you then consider trying medication to quiet the thoughts so that you can better function...there is nothing wrong with that. Heyy, but in the end, know that you are not worthless...it is not your fault and you could not prevent these things from happening...no matter how intelligent you are (some mental illnesses effect those of higher intelligence anyway), but that you dont need to feel like this, try meds, talk to a psychologist, and find a support system...because you are worth it.

Scorpio,
I have to make this brief. When you first started here, your issues and problems struck a gigantic chord with me and if I talk too much or get too involved I unintentionally set myself up for issues. I associate more with your problems more than I can possibly say. I was the first to respond to your first thread here but deleted it. You're not crazy.....You have BPD - you have issues, and many, many of your issues are mine....

[AngelWolf3]

I completely relate. I can't say more right now, I wish I was mentally in a place where I could. But you definitely hit home with so much inside of me right now, and you were so adept at doing it...

(if okay)

[Scorpio Eyes]

I'm actually writing this response from the waiting room of my psychologist, FunkyMonkey, and we're working on getting me a new psychiatrist. I've been without for about five months and then two years before December. My father doesn't believe in mental illness. He says I need to man up and stop *****ing. Thank you dor the kind words, though. I wish I could say they made it all better, but I'm in an extremely dark place right now.

Maranara, I am so sorry that what I've said effects you so much. It is nice to know I'm not alone, though. Maybe we can work through this together?

And finally, Wolfin, thank you as well. I'll write more, myself, later.

Right now my anger and anxiety are just making me nauseaus, so thinking in anything resembling a straight line would be impossible. The more sick I feel, the more I repress. The more I repress, the angrier I get. The angrier I get, the more anxious I am. The more anxious I am, the more sick I feel. Anyone else seeing a pattern here?

[AngelWolf3]

Originally Posted by Scorpio Eyes

I My father doesn't believe in mental illness. He says I need to man up and stop *****ing.

Your father sounds exactly like mine. Although his mantra is "pull yourself up by your bootstraps and quit acting weak."

[fletch33]

Scorpio,

Just know you are not alone in your feelings. I have absolutely felt like you have before. One part that really resonated with me was whether or not you are using your diagnoses basically as excuses to act the way you do. I have actually had people tell me that exact thing before, and it is no fun to hear. I just hope you can take consolation in the fact that you are not alone.

[Scorpio Eyes]

That really makes me sad to hear, Wolfin. It does. Fletch, thank you. The biggest thing in my life is how utterly alone I feel. I think that's the biggest reason I chased her. The fact my genitals work like a compass, pointing me in the direction I ought to go, is just a secondary thing. She made me feel less alone in the world. Like she understood me. For a while. Maybe I didn't love her. I keep wondering that. I'm afraid my love was just an obsession born from the overwhelming emotions that spin out of nothing. Maybe I did love her, but the idealized her that I had created to exist in my fantasy world. I'd blame her for my misery at the same time. They should put me in a textbook.

I had a secondary assesment earlier. Waiting for the call to schedule my treatment plan. The therapist was nice to me. I like that. Listened and asked good questions. Didn't patronize or ignore me. I hate that. Something I brought up was that I thought I'd thrown my scruples in the trash somewhere along the way. She said that maybe the chaos just made me think that. Maybe she was right. I hope so. I still can't forgive myself for things I did at sixteen. Reminding myself just rubs salt in the old wounds. She told me to write down my old morals and see if they still apply. I spent about a half hour remembering what I used to say I believe in. Being sixteen was nice. A sophomore who thought he knew everything. Remembering things I did helps, too.

I always concentrate on my failures. I wrote down at least twenty names. Twenty people I failed. Every single one of those names I'd also done something for. Some of them I even championed. A few I've saved. For a time, anyway. I'm tired, so maybe I'm just ranting about nothing. My blood boils when I remember my failures. My constant failures. After talking to her, the knot left my stomach, so I'll consider that a good omen. What does this have to do with anything? I'm a screw up. I care about people. I'm a nervous wreck. Maybe I've got a warped self image and fractured sense of identity, but maybe, just ****ing maybe, I managed to become at least part of what I prayed to be.

I went through phases, some long, some short. My perspective of myself changed each time. Maybe I don't want to be a hero, anymore. That's okay. But I still want to be special, to make a difference. I want to help people. Why? Well, I care. That, and I really like the feeling I get when something goes right. One of the things I believe in is self-sacrifice. Another is doing the right thing just because. And not needing a reason to help. Why did everything in my life go straight to Hell? Maybe I forgot that. Maybe I forgot what mattered and I had to be woken up, so I could realize my hypocrisy, cowardice, and weakness.

Why does anything matter? I'm trying to keep an Existentialist philosophy, but I'm slowly budging to Nihilism. Everything is sapping the life from me. Damn it, I want a reason to believe. All the good in my life can't compare to the ********. I help people, I fail. I hurt, I make things worse. Right now I'm in one of my empty moods, so that's why the track got lost. Maybe I just wanted you all to know I wasn't just pain, sins, mistakes, and failures. There's good in me. At least some. Somewhere. Deep down. Probably. Maybe. Not really. I think I tried to imply that to the therapist. After I mentioned one little episode and a lackluster trait of my personality. Namely when I lost control and pulled a Darth Vader on my brother. Yeah, I lifted by the neck and choked my retarded, asperger's, physically stunted brother. No, I have never forgiven myself for this. My brother is still afraid of me, even though I've spent three years trying to be a Saint to him and my equally disabled sister. I was under extreme emotional stress and being pushed to my breaking point. My eyes dialated, things got hazy, and I just fell into rage. Things like this used to happen a lot. Now I have to repress my emotions and deny everything to keep myself in check. I don't go out trying to do things like this. They just kind of happen when I lose control. When that other side of me comes out to play. What's that other side of me? It's filthy and embarressing, but only on two or three occassions every seriously immoral. I can be a lech, playfully, with people I care about. When I'm high, it's still okay, just escalated. When I lose control, I'm a manipulative, disgusting bastard. It makes me feel dirty, but it only damages friendships. A bit. Sometimes. Usually. Pretty often. I made a promise with one of my last friends to put it in the cage next to the anger. Yep. That's apparently what I amount to. Lust and Wrath. I don't know why she had me mention the latter, though. I guess there's that Freudian root. Yeah, I'm making a joke to disguise the fact that I'm forcing myself to feel nothing so I don't burst into tears or break something. Yeah, I'm a real piece of work.

I can't believe how many names were on that list. It was missing people to. Why am I so awful at being good? I want to do the right thing. I want to help people. But I lose control and the psychotic emotions ruin everything. I'm exhausted and now I can't think of anything else I want to share. I'm just angry at myself more than anything. Don't know who else to blame. Lately I've not *****ed about my younger years, because I just don't care. Yeah, abuse, neglect, bullying, ostracism: I've been alone my whole life and I'm still alone. The one person who I ever thought had a connection with me - who made me feel less alone never wants to hear from me again and I can't even tell her I'm sorry. Maybe it was all one massive lie, one giant make believe reality, but it ****ing meant something to me. It meant everything. To not feel alone. I would have burned the world for that. I would have burned the world for her. Anything, just so I wouldn't be alone. Yeah, the tears that come every time I say that, that says something. I still don't understand why out of everything that's wrong with my life, I choose her to fixate everything on.

What's my DBT "Goal"? I said I wanted my own validation and approval. To get some self respect and confidence. So I can pursue happiness instead of flee pain. Does that matter? Probably not. What's my goal for this place? Meet some friends and maybe help some people out while I work through things and get my own help. Cheers.

[shezbut]

((Scorpio Eyes))

I can relate a lot to several of the core issues plaguing you in life. It is so horrible to go through these quick phases of mood with my bf ~ please don't leave me; leave me alone; don't go! And on and on. Drives me bananas! I go deep into paranoia a few times a month that I'm truly not "in love" which scares the hell out of me. I can't bear the thought of being without him. He's so sweet! He truly does care about me ~ why must I be such a cruel POS???

I'm pretty much down to no friends, and I've had to pull away from my family (for my own sanity). I wish that I could be "normal" ~ but that's a huge fantasy that I can't ever see coming true for me. I always keep up barriers to very intimate details of my childhood and teenage years, due to shame. Supposedly unwarrented shame, but it's overwhelming and miserable nonetheless. I can't stand it!

I'll try not to bore you with my saga. Just wanted you to know that I really do understand how you're feeling. It's hard ~ no doubt about it! Gentle hugs to you!

[ruby.lestrange]

Scorpio Eyes -

There are so many parts of your post that I could put into little quote boxes because I can identify with them that I'll just say: you are definitely not alone. You're not nothing, and you don't deserve hatred. I'm sorry that you are told to "man up". That resonates with me (I was told the same - well, "woman up", maybe - for 15 years before support came). Your feelings are yours, which makes them real, and you have the right to acknowledge them and work through them in order to make yourself feel well again. Being invalidated that way (for me, at least) only makes my emotional compass that much more haywire, confusing me further. I hope the T you just met with can help you to work through and make sense of them.

And, this may be off-topic and out of left field, but you show a serious talent with words. You said that you had an urge to change the world; have you thought about using them to do so? Sometimes feeling understood can change someone's life, and that's all it takes to change the world, even if it's only a small ripple of difference.

((hugs))

[AngelWolf3]

Originally Posted by ruby.lestrange

you show a serious talent with words.

Totally not off base, I completely agree...!

[Scorpio Eyes]

Shezbut: I really am sorry for what you're going through. But thank you. I always said love was about slself sacrifice. That's why I know I stopped loving her and became obsessed. The fact that you would put yourself through pain just to help a poor stranger know that he's understood speaks mountains of you. All of you.

Ruby: Thank you for your kind words. I hadn't realized I was so relevent. It's been a while (read: never) since I've been an "average" member of a group. I suppose it's only fitting I be normal amongst the mentally ill. I like that. And yes, a number of people have pointed it out to me. When I start college it will be for psychology (the irony I am aware of) but I'm going to try and minor in something involving writing. I want to be a novelist. There are stories I need to tell, stories that can help people like us. Star Wars saved my life. I've been a fan since before I could talk and holding on to it and the lessons I've learned from it helped me stay strong. I know I'm not the only one who needed to escape. Afterall, what's so wrong about wanting to be a Jedi?

[BrokenNBeautiful]

I don't have the right words to say how much I relate to your pain, even if my own story may be a little different from yours.

Carol, fellow person with bpd