7 Mots Mortels

“Once a woman has given you her heart, you can never get rid of the rest of her”

True, isn’t it? Most women (note how I didn’t generalize and say “all” women) love with their entire being. When truly in love we give our all, our entire selves, we don’t hold back. So when the object of your affection doesn’t return your love, it can crush you like a rock. Like a giant boulder. Because yes, that’s how it feels when you hear him say those 7 words “I am not in love with you”. 

Of course every situation is different, but when you have given all that you have to give, poured your entire heart and soul into this person, this love, you feel lost when the love that you have given doesn’t get returned. You feel crushed, like your heart will never be whole again. Let’s be honest here, haven’t we all felt this way one time or another?

Once he has uttered those 7 deadly words you just find yourself standing there in shock. You heard the words but it just hasn’t registered completely. Your brain is still processing the information that it has been given. About a minute later it all kicks back in, you can suddenly move again, you have regained your speech and that’s when it really hits you. That’s when you feel the first tear flowing down your cheek. When you feel that huge lump in your throat and you find that your chest is clenching up, your pulse is racing, your head is getting all foggy, your breathing feels like you just ran a marathon. You reach for something near you, anything that you can hold on to, just to prevent yourself from falling to your knees and screaming out in pain. Dramatic? No, I don’t think so. It’s the best way that it can be explained. And any woman to claim otherwise is basically a liar. Yeah, I said it. But I digress…

He continues talking and you’re just standing there, trying not to break down in front of him. We’re women, we’re strong and fierce, we have to maintain that image. That’s what feminists have been lobbying for all these years, to finally be seen as equals as opposed to “extra sensitive” human beings that cry at the drop of a hat. We give birth to mini humans, we can do this! So that’s what you keep telling yourself in the back of your head all the while still trying to hold back those tears.

This is how I basically spent yesterday evening. Fun eh? Oh but let’s not forget the fact that it felt like someone punched all the air out of me and that I got so upset that I had to run to the bathroom and puke. No, no worries, no mini human in this tummy. I was apparently so upset that my stomach decided to chime in a little. And by little I mean a lot. I spent about 30 minutes hanging over the toilet bowl. Charming image, right?

At this point, or somewhere between being hit by a ton of bricks (read: 7 deadly words) and being reunited with your last meal (stir fry noodles btw, yum), I had detached. Completely dissociated. My body was present but Lord knows where the hell my mind was. I was most likely floating above, looking down at my own dumb founded self. I guess that you could say that the word “numb” describes best how I felt in that instance, and still do.

Once my entire world stopped spinning and I had chucked up everything there was to chuck, I went for a walk. This walk lasted a total of 5 minutes seeing as how it was pretty cold outside. And numb or not, you’re gonna feel it. So I had a smoke and went back inside. I was calming down at this point, I no longer felt like I had just ran the New York Marathon. I put on my favorite piece by Tchaikovsky and I just sat there, on my bed, staring into nothing and nowhere, waiting for myself to return to my body. I waited and waited, but to no avail, I apparently wasn’t ready to come back. That’s when I felt those urges that have been lingering under the surface for months. I could feel that itch become worse and worse. I needed release, I needed SOMETHING.

At this point I had calmed down considerably and that’s when I found myself rifling through my candy store (aka my drawer filled with various medication) looking for my old friend. Ah yes, my old friend Blade. Blade (not the devilishly handsome actor Wesley Snipes, I wish!) was my dear old friend that I had buried (purposely) deep in my candy store, hoping that we would never meet again. But a part of me knew that we would bump into each other at one point or another, so there we were, face to face, me and my blade.

Despite the fact that I had calmed down considerably I was still very numb and “out of it”. I really did consider not doing it but in the end I just turned my music up, grabbed a towel and some rubbing alcohol and I cut. Off the wagon I went, relapsing all the way down the hill with my eyes wide open. When I say “with my eyes wide open” what I really mean is that I was perfectly aware of what I was doing, and I still did it even though a part of me truly didn’t want to do it. But another part of me just wanted release, take the edge off, something to really calm me down.

So I sat there on my bed with  Blade in my right hand and my towel in my left hand and I carved his initials (let’s call him XX for privacy reasons) in my left thigh. I carved it right above the “M” I had carved on October 17th 2012 during my last major breakdown.

Within minutes of “carving” I felt the exact same way that I felt all those years ago when I used to cut.. The second that Blade touched my skin I felt nothing and everything, all at the same time. With every cut I could feel (and see) the blood trickling down my skin and as I watched it drip away it was like I was watching all the pain just roll away. Like I was cutting all the pain away. This might not (and it will not) make sense to you but if you’re like me (cutter, BPD-er), you will understand. You will understand all these emotions that I am describing, because you’ve felt them as well.

I made myself stop at one point, I didn’t want to carve my entire leg up so I made myself stop, which was fairly easy to do. Despite my state of mind at the time, I could still think. Still detached I decided to self soothe. I put on some music (Evanescence, duh) and I listened to it until I fell asleep.

What you need to know is that I’ve known for quite some time now (almost a year) that he wasn’t in love with me but my “other” side (see previous blog post) didn’t want to accept the fact that he wasn’t in love with me. My “logical” side was very well aware of this and had accepted it but my  “other” side (aka my BPD/emotional side) wouldn’t and couldn’t accept it. I don’t know whether I have accepted it now or not but I guess that despite my previous knowledge of already knowing how he felt, that it still hit me very hard.

This morning I had to get up and go to work so I decided to just take it all and just push it away. Put it in that little metaphorical box that I keep deep inside of me and never look back, at least not for the time being. I put on my daily “smile” (as you can imagine, this smile is extremely fake) and I went to work, pretending that all was peachy keen and that I don’t have a care in the world. Unfortunately I go through this every morning.

I always said that he and I would always remain friends, whether or not we were lovers or “together” or not, and in a way, I still stand by that. But I know that it is going to take me some time (maybe even a very long time) before I can  “accept” his decision to be “regular friends” (without play time) and just be friends with him. I don’t know how I will react if I were to see him with another woman in the future. Suffice it to say that I will probably not have the best of responses when this happens.

I won’t process all that has happened because I have too much going on, too many people depending on me so I can’t afford to break down right now. Maybe I will process all of this one day but for now it’s all in my “box”, and this is where it shall stay for the time being.

For so long I wished and hoped for him to be IN love with me. I changed almost everything about me, just because I knew he would like it. I always said that I would never change myself for any man and yet here I was, changing the way I dress, getting my nails done and trying to please him. I guess that is where my “lovely” Electra complex comes in. I don’t know if this feeling will ever go away, I don’t know if I will ever stop wanting him to “want” me, to love me in the way that I wish. But I do know that I will try my hardest to “get over it” (ha, like that’s every gonna happen, right?) so that he and I can be “just friends”. He has always been my (close) friend and “father figure” and I know that I don’t ever want to lose him so I am going to have to try my hardest. One way or the other, he will always be with me, I have a tattoo of his initials to prove it. Ha.

He broke my heart into a million pieces but somehow I will have to try and glue it back together, despite the fact that I am convinced that I am destined to die alone with my 50 dogs and cats nibbling away at my corpse.

I “survived” today and now all I can do is wait for tomorrow and see what the future brings me. Gosh, how very “adult” of me. Ha.

For now I will leave you with this…

“The love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned”


– William Somerset Maugham


Papa, Où es-tu?

I don’t understand why you constantly seek confirmation from me?

That’s the last thing he said to me last night before I completely shut down. And now I am ignoring him. I felt rejected, misunderstood and hurt. All from that one sentence. He always knows what to say to completely bring me down, even though it’s not his intention. And I know that, at least my logical side knows that. My other side doesn’t, or at least doesn’t want to accept it.

He is always honest with me, whether I like what he has to say or not. A lot of times I take what he says the wrong way and I feel hurt by him. It’s like I am extra sensitive with him. It’s probably because we have that special kind of “bond”. A bond that I treasure and fear all at the same time. He is the only one that I am this close to and a lot of times it scares me. Every time I open up and get close to someone they end up hurting and leaving me. Silly, right? I’m 24 years old but I often still feel like that 6 year old little girl, watching her mother walk out that door once more. But that’s an issue for another time.

After he said this to me I got very angry and I just shut down. It’s the next day and I am still ignoring him, even though he probably doesn’t even realize it. Every time I close down and stop all communication with him it usually takes him a full day to realize that I’ve been quiet and then he comes to me. Men, gotta love their logic.

Once I calmed down I got to thinking, why do I constantly seek confirmation from him? Every time he is really busy (which is 99.9% of the time) and I don’t speak to him as often as usual, I feel rejected and hurt. He is aware of this, but there is nothing he can do about it. Only I can. And even then, I can’t help feeling that way, as I have often explained to him. My “logical” and  “rational” side knows that he is very busy and that he is not rejecting me but my “other” side, my “BPD side” aka my “emotional” side doesn’t see it that way. That side of me doesn’t want to accept what the “logical” and “rational” side has no problem accepting. That other side of me wants his constant and undivided attention. That other side of me wants him to show me constant affection. That other side of me wants him to love me unconditionally, as more than just a “very close and special friend”.

All of this, all of these emotions are very confusing for me, especially because I am not stupid, far from it. It’s extra hard for me because I am very well aware of the fact that all of the above will not happen. Ever. A part of me continues to hope that one day it will change and that it will happen but I am perfectly aware of the fact that it most likely won’t. That’s why I suppress these feelings of hope that I keep deep down inside of me. Hope kills. That’s just how it is. You hope and you end up getting let down and hurt.

A few days ago I sent him some “special” pictures of myself (as I often do), I didn’t get the reaction that I wanted and of course I immediately felt rejected. Even more so when he said the following…

Find a buddy!!! One with time!!

Boy, did that hurt! It was like someone punched me in the gut. He is always saying stuff like that, constantly pushing me away. Saying how he meant it in a “good way”. Regardless of what he meant, of course my brain sees it as rejection. I fucking hate the fact that it does. If my brain didn’t perceive it that way I would have far less heartache. I can tell you that much!

So why is it that I seek confirmation from him constantly? As I told my therapist at our session this morning: “Aside from being sexually intimate with him, I see him as a sort of ‘father figure’, whether I like it or not. I constantly feel like I have to please him, make him happy. I changed the way I dress, the way I look and everything. Just because I knew that he’d like it. So maybe I do have some serious daddy issues (hey, look at his age, he’s 22 years older than I am), but I just can’t bring myself to say it out loud and to admit it. Once you say it out loud it becomes true”. 

It’s like I need him to be aroused by me, to want me (physically) and to tell and show me this, for me to be able to feel  “safe” somehow. It’s like I need his (constant) reassurance that he thinks that I’m sexy, that he thinks that I am beautiful, that the very sight of me makes things stir in his lower body. It’s fucking ridiculous! Especially because I know that he sees me as more than “just a body”. He told me that he wanted to “talk” and just “hang out” next week and it made me mad. I was livid. I felt rejected, like he didn’t want me. My fucked up twisted mind seems to think (feel) that as long as he wants me that he won’t leave me. For once he actually wants to talk and I take it as a rejection. My brain fucking hates me, that’s how it feels like.

I often “confuse” lust with love. And I am very well aware of this, but I ignore it and just take the lust, because, hey, that’s all I can get apparently. So when I’m messing around with him (or anyone else in my entire life) I just pretend that that person really likes me and loves me, despite the fact that he’s currently sucking on my breast and his hand is down my pants. I just let myself live that lovely illusion, even if it’s just for until he comes and we’re done. I’m not stupid, I’m very well aware of what I do but I often choose to just ignore it for that moment, to just “enjoy” it. The same way I ignore the fact that he isn’t in love with me,  I just push it to the back of my head and dive in, head first and make lust! I can deal with reality once I’ve put my clothes back on and I’m on my way home.

He is the one person whose opinion I (apparently!) give a fuck about so I (apparently!) often find myself “morphing” into whomever he wants me to be. I do whatever it takes to make him happy, I do whatever it takes to not see a look of disappointment on his face, I do whatever it takes to get his “a-okay” thumbs up.

Wow, this is actually the first time that I’ve admitted to any of this. I’m fucking ridiculous. I hate the fact that I feel any of this, because in my eyes it makes me “weak”. And I can’t afford to be weak, I need to be strong. I won’t accept “weak”. Weak is when you’re most vulnerable and when you get hurt the most.

Man, my mind is all over the place, I’m pretty sure that I started this post out by wondering why I seek constant confirmation from him. But this goes to show you: this is merely a fraction of how it is in my head constantly, every minute of every day. Awesome, right?

He often tries to push me away, to create distance between us, for us to go back to being “regular” friends. But I think that he fails to realize that we can’t go back to being “regular” friends. At least I know that I can’t. While a big part of me knows that I should just walk away, I can’t and I won’t. Call me a glutton for punishment, an emotional masochist if you may, ha. Yeah, that about describes me. But please, don’t get me wrong: It’s not all pain and hurt with him. We’ve had many great and amazing moments. Ask me about those when I’m in a good and ecstatic mood and I will surely discuss it in length. Like the way it feels when he looks me in the eyes and just smiles at me, how my entire face lights up when he does that. How it feels when he puts his hands around my face and gently puts his lips on mine, le sigh. But I digress.

So let’s see, Why do I constantly seek his confirmation? Oh, I guess I know! It’s probably because I have a severe “Electra Complex”, aka “Daddy Issues”. He has always been there when I needed him and I apparently clung on to him for dear life, constantly afraid of him leaving me forever.

Oh well, at least I’m aware of all of this, beats being in denial about it. I guess that I will just have to come to terms with this and learn how to deal with it. In the words of Carl Gustav Jung….

“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely”

Piece by piece

I’m tired. I feel like the life is slowly being sucked out of me, however little I had left to begin with. I feel like I’m restraining the “real me”, whomever that may be.

“You shouldn’t have said that”. “You could have been more subtle”. “You need to be careful with what you say”. “You can’t say whatever is on your mind”. “You are so direct”.

AAAARGH!!! I feel like I am being stifled, silenced, gagged. All that makes me “ME” is being silenced. I am dying inside. Slowly dying. It’s fucking torture.

I feel like such a sell out. This is not the life I wanted. This is not the person I wanted to be. I don’t want to wake up 40 years from now and realize that I wasted my life. I don’t want to realize that I spent 40 years on auto pilot. Doing the same exact thing, day in, day out. Le sigh.

My soul is slowly dying. More and more with each passing day.