Friday, 3 February 2012

Can't stop thinking about him.

Can't stop thinking about seeing him again; being with him again.

Im just so looking forward to it. He's amazing. Being with him is amazing. Just the thought makes me so happy.

But distraction, distraction, distraction.

Going to Melbourne tonight.

Seeing Lincoln tomorrow.

Lucas starts school on Monday.

Seeing my case worker Tuesday. Need to chase up legal rep and my tafe course then too.

Seeing Lucas on Wednesday.

My birthday on Thursday. Seeing Bee. Have a meeting with dhs and finding how much longer they want to keep my children from me.

Then Friday group therapy again and back down to Melbourne for a massive weekend.

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Your love is my drug

Just because Kesha - of all people - can say it better than I can today. This is exactly how I feel right now.

Maybe I need some rehab,
Or maybe just need some sleep
I've got a sick obsession,
I'm seeing it in my dreams

I'm looking down every alley,
I'm making those desperate calls
Im staying up all night hoping,
Hit my head against the walls

What you've got boy is hard to find
Think about it all about it all the time
I'm all strung up my heart is fried
I just cant get you off my mind

Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love

Won't listen to any advice, mamma's telling me to think twice
But left to my own devices i'm addicted its a crisis!

My friends think I've gone crazy, my judgment is getting kinda hazy
My status is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crackhead

What you've got boy is hard to find
Think about it all about it all the time
I'm all strung up my heart is fried
I just cant get you off my mind

Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love

I don't care what people say
The rush is worth the price I pay
I get so high when you're with me
But crash and crave you when you are away

So I got a question;
Do you want to have a summer party in my basement?
Do I make your heart beat like an 808 drum?
Is my love, your drug?
(huh) Your drug? (huh) your drug? (huh) your drug?
Is my love, your drug?

Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love (x2)

Heyyy heyyy your love, your love,your love,your love, is my drug

Tuesday, 31 January 2012


Im feeling bored, empty and unfulfilled tonight.

It is hard to explain how hard boredom is to deal with for someone with bpd. It's not just having nothing to do - cos i.can easily do nothing. It's the emptiness and loneliness that comes with it. As well as the inevitable depression.

Though it does make for a nice change for intense feelings of pain, anger, panic and rejection. This is definitely a more sedate feeling.

I think what makes borderlines so fascinating for others is that they are always seeking something more. Chasing the high. Wanting more, more, more. Bored husbands in a sex less marriage love a borderline for a bit for the thrill the excitement but then return to reality. Leaving the borderline rejected and hurting and seeking to fill the void. The married man was just an example. It happens constantly with friends irl - love the fun.and excitement and intensity for a bit but then it all becomes too much and the borderline is abandoned.

People with bpd constantly make themselves vulnerable and give their all - hoping someone will see that and return it. This rarely happens. Leaving exhaustion and hurt behind. Borderlines often wish they could walk away from themselves as easily as others do to.them.

But other timed bpd is the only constant and the only comfort. Sometimes it's the enemy that needs to be fought and beaten. But sometimes it's your only friend - sabotaging, destructive, miserable friend.

No real point to this post. Just thinking, thinking, thinking. Always thinking. I never stop. Probably why i try to self medicate and try to numb myself.

Lying in bed thinking, slightly tired, but bored. And hungry. I've eaten enough today but my body wants maccas. I hate this new comfort eating thing. I can't afford it and it's making me fat.

Im sad without my maccas. Completely sober cos i have no orange juice to drink with my vodka.

Miserable. Alone. Bored.

Surely there has got to be more than this.

Monday, 30 January 2012


I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 20 days (been tempted today though) 

I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 19 days

I last texted Shane 30/1/2012: Today

I last had Maccas on 27/1/2012: 3 days 

Friday, 27 January 2012


Taking a break from fb but i got glimpse of the news earlier.

People that burn our flag fucking disgust me. Im not one to delete friends of fb or end friendships over opinions. I appreciate everyone's right to an opinion and to express that.

But i absolutely do not respect anyone who thinks it's acceptable to burn our flag. What a fucking disgrace.

It infuriates me. Those people can fuck right off. Fucking disrespectful scum.

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

I dont want to be her...

I dont want to be like her. I hate her. She ruined me; my life. She gave me life, she gave me this disorder.

I dont want to be her. I want to be so much better than her.

Yet here I am. Drunk and listening to music. Only differnece is that im not traumatising my kids in the process. I hate her. I cant wait til she dies.

I want to be so much better than her. I know I am. I want so much better for my kids than I had.

What I wouldnt give to have my Lucas here with me now though. I need him - just as much as he needs me, if not more. What I wouldnt give just to cuddle up to him right now. have a sleepover.

I made so much wrong choices. I have become everything I dont want to be.


I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 14 days (thought it about it tonight though)

I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 13 days (seeing him tomorrow though - God give me the strength to keep my legs together!)

I last texted Shane 22/1/2012: 2 days

I last had Maccas on 22/1/2012: 2 days (and only cos i was too lazy to walk there tonight)

Monday, 23 January 2012

Starting over ... again... I guess 23/01/2012

I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 13 days days 
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 12 days 
I last texted Shane 22/1/2012: Yesterday
I last had Maccas on 22/1/2012: Yesterday

Am getting so disgusted at myself - I cannot stop eating. Binge binge binge. It is gross. I hate it and I hate how fat I am getting. I slept til 4:30 yesterday afternoon and once I got up I still ate three meals for the day. WTF?! And now I am eating like a whole freaking chocolate cake.

Across the board I have no self control - in terms of eating, and texting and just everything.

Getting so frustrated with myself. 

Saturday, 21 January 2012


FINALLY found out/remembered what the name for a word/thing that is the same backwards and forwards - palindrome !! Super happy!

And 'for all intensive purposes' is actually 'for all intents and purposes'. Mind. Blown. You really learn something new everyday.

Progress check:

I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 21 days (even though I wanted to today)
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 10 days (even though I wanted to today)
I last texted Shane 21/1/2012: Today (but only re: access arrangements for Lincoln today) 
I last had Maccas on 14/1/2012: 7 days (even though I wanted to today)
I last drank alcohol on 17/1/2012: 4 days (even though I wanted to today)

Today had been a crap day - but I have resisted all the things I wanted to do but that would ultimately make me feel worse. I guess that is a victory of sorts. 

Friday, 20 January 2012


I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 10 days
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 9 days
I last texted Shane 20/1/2012: Today
I last had Maccas on 14/1/2012: 6 days
I last drank alcohol on 17/1/2012: 3 days

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

Getting there - 17/01/2012

I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 7 days
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 6 days
I last texted Shane 13/1/2012: 4 days
I last had Maccas on 14/1/2012: 3 days
I last drank alcohol on 17/1/2012: Err.. that's today!

Monday, 16 January 2012


I last cut myself on 10/1/2012 : 6 days
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012: 5 days
I last texted Shane 13/1/2012: 3 days
I last had Maccas on 14/1/2012: 2 days
I last drank alcohol on 15/1/2012: 1 day

Sunday, 15 January 2012

Shifting the goal posts

Okay so have had a good think about things in the shower.

Things I want to give up completely:
-Cutting myself
-Having sex with Shane
-Texting Shane (about non-Lincoln related things such as access)

Things I need to cut down on:
- Maccas
- Drinking

So I am going to keep track of my 'days since' all of these things. But expecting that i will still drink and eat maccas.

I last cut myself on 10/1/2012
I last had sex with Shane on 11/1/2012
I last drank alcohol on 12/1/2012
I last texted Shane 13/1/2012
I last had Maccas on 14/1/2012

I am hoping that if I make it public, I will make myself more accountable. I need to think of goals of how often I want to eat maccas and drink. Though I am going to aim to lose weight with that 1 million kilo challenge so I will aim to give up maccas as of the 26/1/2012 (i think that it is when it starts). No idea about the drinking yet though. I will keep a track of it I think anyway while I think of an appropriate goal or even decide to give it up completely or maybe say only socially/when im with someone.


1 day without maccas
2 days without texting Shane
3 days without alcohol

Saturday, 14 January 2012

Giving up vices

Day 2 of no alcohol
Day 1 of not texting Shane
Day 1 of no maccas

Saturday, 7 January 2012

I hate my mother

I have so much to say - and most likely, it will come out as drunken dribble.

So today I got in trouble for giving the baby-stealer a hickey. I kissed his neck. And left a tiny mark. It was literally an accident. And to me, it looked red but not like it had left a mark. On the train home, I got a message saying 'You gave me a hickey. I asked you not to' Now aside from the fact, I did not mean to - this clearer demonstrated that B.S (baby-stealer) was horrified at having a hickey cos people (his ridiculous mother, family and friends) might know that he was sleeping with me. How embarrassing for him. I just replied that i didnt mean to and didnt realise that I had.

I cannot explain how that made me feel. It made me feel embarrassing, disgusting and dirty. He was happy to sleep with me (when he wanted and on his terms) but god forbid but someone know about it. It made me feel sick. New philosphy: If you are embarrassed to be sleeping with me, then don't.

So Im on the train home. Rejected. Filled with self-loathing. Wondering how I got to this point - rejected by the man who stole my baby.

As with most things in my life - I chose to blame my mother.

I was talking to a friend earlier - My son has autism. My mum always screamed at me that i had autism. Did nothing about it - but diagnosed me herself, you know.Made it seem one of my many character flaws. As I see my son develop, i am pretty sure I have autism to a certain degree. I understand him so much better than i do 'normal' kids. I understand his distress at the world, need for routine and lack of desire for social interaction. And it is not that i just understand, I feel it. I am the same. I refer to myself as a social retard. I am so awkward in social situations. I hate leaving the house etc.

And I realised today that I was more in charge, in control and decisive about my life (and men!) when i was a a teenager than I am now. Now I could do with  mum.

If she wasnt such a psycho and my dad hadnt failed to protect me, I wouldnt have such a desire to be saved by a man now.

When I was a teenager, I had an opprtunity to lose my virginity to the boy I first loved. My mum wouldn't let me go see him.

So instead a bit later on in my teenage years, i started seeing a 25 year old man. Got pregnant to him. Was coerced into an abortion to save him jail time (the irony that he ended up in prison anyway leaves a sour taste in my mouth). Felt the immediate need to get pregnant again to replace my child. Ended up having my son at 18. Mum tried to steal him when he was 2 weeks old. So I ran away. Ended up pregnant with my daughter. The father goes to jail. Fast forward a few suicide attempts and a diagnosis of BPD, and i meet the baby stealer, get pregnant, have a baby, B.S earns his title.

Now if only - Mum had let me have sex with the guy I wanted to then maybe I wouldnt have lost my virginity to the wrong person. and had an abortion. And all the rest. Maybe I could have stayed at home. Gone to uni. Had a normal life. A life where my children arent scattered over the state. And i am left here with fuck all.

I knew what I wanted back then. I knew who I wanted to sleep with. I was in mother fucking control.

But now?! Im fucked.

Now I could use a mum (not my mum of course). Someone to talk to about my boy dramas. Someone to look after me. Someone to cry to.

I have a couple of mother-figure fb friends who i just adore. I wish they were my mum. :(

Im not usually one to look back.I dont even like to think about my mother. And i wouldnt wish my kids away. Especially my son. He needs me as much as I need him. But fuck. Maybe if she fucking loved me back then, I wouldnt be so fucked up now. And so desperate for someone to love me. Maybe if she let me fuck the guy i wanted to. This whole mother fucking thing wouldnt have fucking happened. Fuck you. You dumb stupid fucking cunt whore. I fucking hate you.

This didnt come out the way I want. I dont regeret my kids. I just hate the situation they and I are in.

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Love junkie

My head is killing me. But I need to get this out. Otherwise I will just pick up the phone and call him again.

Im a self confessed love junkie. Growing up, I always imagined that someone would come save me from my family, marry me and love me forever. A childish fantasy I guess, fuelled by fairytales, love songs and pretty white dresses. But it kept me going.

But I cant let it go. Because love gives me hope. And flashes of happiness.

But what I continually do is make myself vulnerable. It is like gambling. I give someone my all - cos the pay off could be wonderful. They could love me, be with me, make me happy and then I have everything i want in life. If Im in love, im happy. And if im happy, Im functioning and can get my kids back. But it never pays off. And giving someone the power to make you happy, also gives them the power to make you sad.

And that is where I am at now.

I have this insight. But at the moment, I cant seem to change. I know what I am doing. I see the cycle I am stuck in. But I just can't get the same fulfilment from anything else.

I want so desperately to be happy. And loved. And to have my kids back. I just cant give up on the notion that somewhere out there is the person that i need to love me, look after me and finally make me happy.

I fear I will live my life waiting to be happy - in this endless persuit of happiness - and then wake up one day and realise that is what I have spent my life doing.

I know I need to regain control over my emotions but at the moment I cant. The highs are too good. But the lows are too bad.

I love 48. He makes me beyond happy. He is just so awesome. I want to be with him. Im soaring.

Does he want me? No. Crashing.

Rejection. Panic. All drive him further away.

I am covering up the pain of Shane leaving by just finding someone to fill the void. If I love someone else, Shane leaving doesn't matter - not having Shane doesn't hurt so much. But then the new guy always leaves, always rejects me. And then it's all over.

I have so much advice for fellow BPD sufferers. And look, I know what I should do. I need to do positive things for myself, nurture myself when I feel like punishing myself. I need to find fulfilment and happiness in my own life.

But I am not there yet.

I am trying with all my might to not pick up that phone; to not message him again. He does not want to be with me. Me ringing him; trying to convince him will not change that. It will make it worse. But I am self-destructive and I have no self-control.

Rejection makes me hate myself. It makes me angry at myself. It makes my world fall apart when it really shouldn't.

My head hurts. I should just go to bed. Sometimes, I really hate being me.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Feeling better!

I just want to thank everyone who commented and posted after my last post. Sorry it was so gloomy. But i really appreciate all the love, concern and support.

I would be so lost without my little online community!  You guys are just so awesome - you are there when i need you and make me laugh and share your lives me. I appreciate it so much and love you all.

Well i finally feel better and like Im coming out of my Post-Christmas depression and Mr Mcdonalds crisis. I had a great night with #48. He's just amazing. I know i get way too attached too easily, i know. But he's just amazing. Sigh. I can't stop thinking about him and he makes me so happy.

I know the thing about having to love myself before someone else will. But i don't know if that's possible for me.

But oh well another problem for another day.

I love my Mylrea. I've got the air con going, the tv on. And the best friends on Facebook <3

Monday, 2 January 2012

Cutting (reference to self harm - may be distressing/triggering)

It's no secret that I've tried to kill myself a handful of times.

Before Shane left, we had a fight about his ridiculous family. I lost it. I grabbed a razor and cut myself. Slice after slice on my left forearm. Very superficial. No scars now. But it was a release for my anger and self loathing.

The morning he left, he said goodbye to me in bed. I didn't know then what his plan was. Before he left, he ran his hand over the cuts on my arm. This tells me he knew the consequences of his actions. He knew what he was doing.

Im usually not one for pain. All my attempts have been overdoses.

This time, after i overdosed, i grabbed the razor (this wasn't planned or part of the suicide) and slashed the fuck out of my arm. I was full of panadeine forte and valium and everything else, i didn't even feel it. I saw it. It was such a weird experience, i saw blood gush out of my arm. It covered me, my clothes and my couch. And i couldn't feel it. I could just see it.

It has scarred 'badly'. But i like it. It is a physical representation of the invisible pain that consumed me.

Last Thursday, when Mr mcdonalds left that pain of rejection and panic came back. The panic is indescribable. It is like needing that person to come back like you need air. That is not an over statement. The panic is all consuming.

He left.

I got my razor and cut into my right arm. Two of the cuts were deep. He knew. And didn't come back.

I guess it could be considered attention seeking but 'frantic efforts to avoid abandonment' is what i prefer.

He didn't come back. But it served another purpose. It distracted me from the panic. Two of the cuts will scar. Now i physical representation of how much it hurt when i lost him. The rush of blood was such a relief.

Later that night i chased the feeling. But there was no panic. I just wanted the same release. I could only do pathetic shallow cuts. It still fills me with disgust. Im so pathetic. I want to hurt myself and i can't. It's pathetic. It sickens me.

Tonight Im angry cos Im ridiculous and chasing the idea of love. Sitting on a train picking the scabs off my cuts on my arm from the other day. It hurts. But that satisfies me. Cos i deserve the pain. Im a pathetic desperate person. I hate me. Sometimes i just want to beat myself up.

Sorry for the morbid post. I just had to get this out.

I want the outside of my body to be as damaged, ruined and scarred as the inside.

The pain is just invisible to everyone else. My behaviour erratic and confronting.

I just want someone to love me and accept me for all that i am.

I know Im in love with love. I've lost track of how many time I've been rejected or hurt. But Im a sucker for punishment. Or maybe without that hope Im as good as dead.