A moment in a thought

My thoughts, in my life, of adoption and other such things

Looking out for that hole in the road June 23, 2007

There are a great many times when I wish life were easier.  A great many times when perhaps I just wish I didn’t have to live it at all. 

The good moments seem so few and far between, and the bad ones stick out in my head like a fat person at an anorexia clinic. 

This past year/two years has been the hardest of my life.  Probably because I was actually in ‘reality’ for them. 

With Borderline personality disorder, you spend so much of your life not in reality, that when reality hits you, its something like a ton of bricks.  Its scary, and its hard.  But I am learning to deal. 

I am learning to find myself in this mixed up weird life I have. 

I thought my whirlwind was over, it turns out it wasn’t.  I am hoping to god that it ends soon.  Because I am at my wits last end.  Unfortunately, just about every relationship I have is suffering because of it.  Mostly the one with my Meemo. 

I stand on a fine line lately, a fine line between staying in the life I have fought so hard to create with myself through therapy, and falling into the hole that is Borderline (BPD).  

Sometimes lately, its just been too damn easy to fall in that hole.  Its safer, its more understood, and I know what to expect.  However, for all its safety, its also torture.  Safe torture, but torture none the less. 

However, staying OUT of that hole isn’t as easy as it seems.  I spent a great many years of my life in that hole. 

I have a lot of things going on in my life.  Financially, I am in a hole… a big, big huge hole.  I bought a new car, my adad told me he would help me with it.  I knew I couldn’t afford it, he wanted me to have it.  Now I am finding myself between a rock and a hard place, I don’t want to keep asking my adad for money.  But I just can’t do this.  I made my first car payment, and bounced my rent check, have NO idea where I am going to get the money for all the rest of my bills.  The stress of this, and knowing I need to get a new job, is unbelievable.   

I have met my bdad, he’s a great guy.  But there is that hole again, that borderline hole I want to fall in.  That torturous hole, I almost want to scream in his face, get away while you can!!!  I know I am better than this, I know that I can do this, I can form a relationship with him.  Why not?  What is so wrong with me really, that I wouldn’t be able to.  Oh yeah, everything. 

He wants me to meet his family, his WHOLE family, I am really scared.  A.  I don’t like crowds of people.  B.  I am scared.  I will be the center of attention, and what if they don’t like me. 

I am trying to reform a relationship with my amom, so far its working pretty well.  I have come a long way with that. 

Mostly, I just wish I knew how to let myself out of the hole, once and for all.  I wish I knew how to let myself shine through instead of being so afraid of everything. 

It is when I am scared the most, that I trip and fall the most.  When I make the most mistakes, and when I do things wrong. 

When I look for the advise of others instead of trusting my own instincts. 

I have had so many trust issues along the way, and I realized, that first and foremost, I need to trust myself.  But how?  How does one begin to do this? 

I have to learn to open up, while still holding myself together.  I have to learn to separate my fears from the person that I am.  I have to learn that its ok not to remain where its safe, its ok not to remain in that hole.  Take risks… don’t be so afraid of life and others. 

Don’t be so afraid of screwing up!  I think if I tried LESS hard to screw up… I would screw up less!  Its when I am trying the hardest that everything backfires on me.  Maybe I should just try harder to be me. 

Its almost like that hole is my protection, but its silly, because its torture, it hurts me more than anything. 

I feel so very often like it is the world that hurts me, but in reality, I hurt myself more than anyone else does.  

I just wish I knew, really knew, how to change all this.  I wish I knew a concrete way to avoid falling in that hole.  I am making others around me crazy… people at work, my Meemo, my friends, my therapist, everyone.  My inability to get my feet back on the ground is affecting those around me, and thats just not fair.  My own issues need to stop affecting my relationships with others.  And its so easy to lay blame, but really, the blame lays with me.  I am the one who is letting things affect me.  I am the one who is letting certain feelings overtake me.  I just wish I knew how to get my life all back in order again. 

I need to get my grip back on all the aspects in my life, the problem is, I just don’t know how.  I don’t know how to right everything I have knocked over.  I don’t know how to fix all my wrongs. 

Mostly, I need to learn how to keep them from happening again.  I need to learn how to stop falling into that hole thats there.  I need to learn how to see it so that I can avoid falling into it. 

I think I am so busy looking backwards, so busy concentrating on the past, on the things I can’t control, that I miss whats right in front of me.  Maybe it is as simple as just turning around. 

Concentrating on what I can control instead of what I can’t.  Concentrating on the road ahead of me, instead of the road behind, so when that damn hole comes again, I don’t fall in. 


Remembering a time… May 21, 2007

Filed under: Adoption,Friendship,Self Discovery — Jessie @ 2:19 pm

Not sure why I feel the need to share this story, but its my blog, and I can write what I wish 🙂

I had my first big pregnancy scare at 16. 

The story is an interesting one, so I shall tell it. 

It all started with my first bad boy attraction.  He was tall, big and handsome with the best curls you have ever seen.  Jet black curls.  His name was Mike, and he sat next to me in Spanish class.  I had Spanish in first period in my junior year (I took four years of French, then went back to Spanish one to avoid having to take french five).  Since it was my first class it was my makeup time period.  No I don’t mean makeup like pretty little eyeliner and blush… oh no, I was NEVER one of those girls.  Mine was all black, and my mother, determined not to have a dark and depressed daughter, forbade me from wearing it.  So in first period on went all the black makeup, the eyeliner, the black lipstick… all that jazz.  Out came the black sharpie for my nails.  One day Mike asked if he could borrow my sharpie.  It was then that I noticed him, and he had the bluest of blue eyes that totally contrasted with his dark hair.  Instant attraction. 

From there, we met up every morning to smoke on the corner.  We would talk, about things, life whatever.  We would smoke and walk into school together to go to first period Spanish.  He told me that he was attracted to the goth types… and well, I was attracted to the bad, dark, curly haired types.  From then on we had a wonderful relationship of skipping school and getting into trouble as is always fun.  (I really, really was never a good girl). 

He started talking to me about sex, before that, it wasn’t really a thought in my mind.  My first response was no, absolutely not.  But then I started thinking, well really, why not?  I liked him a lot, in those days I thought I loved him.  I figured it would be perfect, and after all, if I had sex with him he would stick around longer. 

Prom night came, we never actually considered ourselves a ‘couple’  he wasn’t my boyfriend, I wasn’t his girlfriend.  I really wanted to be his girlfriend.  We ended up going with a bunch of friends, none of us ‘couples’… all of us doing more than just holding hands.  Even the girls were comfortable enough with each other to allow ourselves to explore. 

We left from my house, and my mother wanted us back by 1:00 am.  Enough time to go to the prom, stay there till it ended and then go out for Ice cream or something.  I swear my mother still lived in the fifties or something, Ice cream? 

She even sewed me into my prom dress… she told me it was “just in case the zipper came loose”  I wasn’t stupid, I knew better. 

We stayed at the prom for about an hour, enough time to get our pictures taken and dance a little.  Then we all left.  We were three not dating couples, all of us good friends, and all of us really, really comfortable with each other.  We had our limo drive us to the local grocery store where we picked up strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup… sans the ice cream.   After a ride around in the limo we settled down at the beach.  Where I managed to rip myself out of my sewn in prom dress and give the one last good girl thing I had to my then not quite boyfriend.  (My mother actually believe the bs about how I ripped my dress, totally ignoring the fact I was wearing my dates undershirt. My dad on the other hand, wasn’t so stupid, especially when I was found on my hammock with a red headed curly haired boy named Jay who wasn’t my date! Not doing the deed btw… I wasn’t THAT bad!)

After that sex was a weapon.  I used it to get the love and attention I thought I wanted.  All of a sudden, these boys that have been around me, now REALLY wanted to be around me.  I was happy that I didn’t have that ‘boyfriend’ thing with Mike… because it left me free to be around Jay too. 

Two weeks later, I realized that there was a minor detail to all this fun and enjoyment.  I should have gotten my period, and I hadn’t.

All I could think of was shit.  Shit shit shit Jessie.  Did you not think?  Did you not think about the fact that the woman who gave birth to you did the exact same thing? 

Like I have said before, adoption was never (I thought) a big issue for me, but it was still there.  All I could think about was, oh god, this is how it happened.   This is how I happened! 

Of course I was also thinking… well this could be a good thing, Mike will have to stick around if I have a baby!  I was determined I loved him, I was also determined that we were going to fall in love and get married and raise this baby together. 

I was however, smart enough to know life didn’t work that way.  Plus if it came out a red head, I would be screwed… Jay was a redhead, not Mike. 

What the hell did I get myself into. 

All I could remember thinking was what I would do if I were pregnant. 

I knew adoption was not an option.  I couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t do it.  I wouldn’t as an adoptee who had no clue where I came from, then give up my child to have no clue where they came from.  I couldn’t imagine looking out at the stars at night and wondering where my mother, and my child, were.  Couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t have an abortion, even though thats what Mike insisted I would be doing if I were pregnant.

I also knew, in my heart, I couldn’t keep it.   I was in no way, and no how ready to be a mother at 16… 17 by the time the child was born.  No way with all the constant fighting in my house, the constant depression and self distruction I was in, no way could I keep that child.   In my daydream land, Mike and I would have gotten married, we would have had that perfect life, I would have been his, and he would have been mine, the baby would have been ours. 

If only the world were perfect.

What a freaking decision to make.  I had plenty of sleepless nights about it. 

Two negative pregnancy tests later, I got my period.  I don’t think I was ever happier in my life.  I ran into school and hugged Mike, told him the news… and he asked if we could go use a friends hot tub to… ya know… oh the mentality of teenagers!

I don’t know what I would have decided, but I know it would have been a hell of a hard choice.  I hopeI would have been stong enough to make a decision in the best interest of the child. 

I forgot about those thoughts and feelings, and the many more times after (you would think I would have learned).   Until just recently when I started thinking about my life, and where I have come.  How easy it is to make decisions that affect everything.  Whats even scarier is the fact that I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for a decision that affected everything. 

How easy it is to judge.  However, its not so easy to walk in the shoes of those we are judging. 


Oh the joy’s of M March 4, 2007

Filed under: Friendship,Uncategorized — Jessie @ 2:56 pm

I am so very frustrated right now.  I feel that yucky jittery, nervous, angry feeling, and I do not like it one bit. 

The thing is, for everything in my life right now, I shouldn’t have this feeling.  I am sohappy otherwise.  I am sitting at my Meemo’s house, dog sitting.  I am comfortable, I am happy.  I am peaceful, and trying to get my homework done. 

Of course, something would have to come along to ruin my peaceful state of mind.  My friend M. 

M is a borderline in every sense of the word.  Yes, I too also carry the diagnosis for borderline personality disorder.  But there are many different levels to the disorder, many different functioning levels, many different wellness levels.  I have always been very high functioning, I have always also, relied on just about no one but myself to get through things.  I have  worked my a$s off in therapy for several years now to get over the diagnosis.  And while I still carry some of the borderline tendancies, and probably will for a long time.  I no longer consider myself a ‘borderline’, I no longer consider myself crazy, or ill.  Anyone who has known me for longer than a year or so, would understand that change.  Do not get me wrong, I don’t consider myself ‘cured’,  just in recovery.  

M will never get better.  It isn’t because borderlines are untreatable, I have proven otherwise.  It is because she refuses to help herself.  She expects everyone else in the world to cater to her every need, and if, heaven forbid they don’t, they get exiled until she decides they are worthy of her again.  Yes, M is a borderline, the type of borderline that makes those who are working hard in recovery look bad.

I like the person that M is, I really do.  We have been friends for a long time, met in a treatment situation and bonded immediately.  She was the first person that I ever met that ever understood so many of the things that were going on in my head.  The only person that I ever really felt comfortable opening up to with so many of the things that I had previously thought were just plain crazy.  She helped me in my journey of recovery in the sense that after talking to her, I felt comfortable opening up to other people about these things, namely my therapist, which really allowed me to work through them.  I appreciate her for that.  We used to have a great many things in common, our minds worked so similarly in so many different ways, that while we always handled things differently, we understood each other.  We used to be together all the time, hang out smoke pot, go to highland park conservatory (my favorite place in the world) and just talk about things, life, whatever.  When things were like that, all was well, never perfect, but well.

The thing is M always expected a lot of things from me.  When I didn’t have any confidence and no real voice of my own it didn’t bother me.  It isn’t like I had anything better to do than sit in hospitals or drive her to emergency rooms or be at her every beck and call when the ‘meltdowns’ hit.  Being a borderline as well I understood the meltdowns, although I never, ever really had them myself.  At least not to the point where I needed hospitalization or felt the need to drag everyone else into it.  I more just did it silently and in my own company.  I didn’t always like doing these things for her, and we got into plenty of fights on it, but I did it anyway. 

That is until things started to really change.  I started to recover, she did not.  If we could have gone through this recovery process together, I think a lot of things would be different with us now.  However, this is not the case.  There wasn’t ever any effort on her part, while I was working my tail off in therapy, she was busy being consumed by the drama of her own life.  While a great many things were changing within me, she just stayed the same.  I met her when I was 20, and her 21 almost 22.  We are now 24 and 26.   I am looking at a normal life, she is looking at death.  Yes, death.  She is chronically suicidal, something I can sympathize with as it has only been recently that I have spent more than a day without thinking about it.  However, she is chronically suicidal and flirts with death by her own hand, sometimes its for attention, sometimes its for real.  She is also killing herself slowly, if she doesn’t go by an outright suicide act, she will go by one that is slower, more painful, and not listed as suicide, but suicide none the less.  She has soft spots in her brain from all the drug use (she blames this on all the psych meds she has been on, while ignoring all the self inflicted drug damage).  She is also anorexic, which is causing a myriad of heath problems including the newest, kidney failure.  She found out a few days ago that she is in severe kidney failure.  The fact that she is eating nothing, weighs nothing, and is on several medications for the neurological problems, she blames only the medications.   And is refusing to enter treatment for the eating disorder.   Stating that she doesn’t fit in with all the ‘popples’ and other ‘eating disorder girls’ because she is a lesbian and has gender identity issues. 

I feel for her, I really do.  It is hard to watch someone you care about go through all this.  But despite everything I am finding myself in quite the predicament.  She needs a friend, but I can only do so much.  I cannot fix her, I cannot make her better.  I am tired of being used and abused.  She is in crisis all the time, she expects someone to fix her all the time.  She expects me to drop everything I am doing, at any moment, and cater to her just because she is in crisis.  If she weren’t in crisis every other day, it would be one thing… but sheesh!

 I got a phone call today, an interruption to my peace quiet and serenity, with her in tears.  She can’t take it anymore, she cut herself badly and doesn’t know what to do.  She wants me to come get her, take her into the city so she can buy weed, and just get high and forget about the world.   I do not want to, I don’t want to deal with it.  I want my peace and serenity.  I do not want to get high, I do not want the responsibility of fixing her and putting her back together again.  I have my own stuff, I don’t need hers too. 

I tell her, as calmly as I can, that I cannot, I am in the middle of a large project that is due tomorrow.(which is true)  I cannot come to get her right now.  And so switches the tears to the wrath and anger.  How dare I?  How dare I choose homework over her, I must not care about her!   I continue to explain calmly that it has nothing to do about caring about her, it is just that I cannot do this right now.  I tell her that she needs to start learning to help herself, that just because she wants me to be there for her, does not mean that I can always literally “BE THERE” for her.  I get yelled and screamed at, called names, told to F off.  That this is how her best friend treats her when she needs her, and on and on.  I have heard it all before a million times.  Every time I stand up for myself.   

The point of all this is I don’t know what to do.  It just sounds so easy to walk away from her and her entire situation, but I find that difficult to do.  I just feel overwhelmed by her, have always felt overwhelmed by her.  I guess it was one thing when we actually had things in common.  Now I just feel dread everytime my phone rings her ringtone.  I am trying to go to school, work, lead a productive life.  The emotion overload of this reunion and the BPD triggers because of it are finally now subsiding a bit.  I am finding myself finally at peace with myself and what my world has become since my Meemo.   I do not need the added stress of her.   

I have a few days, a few days before she calls me up and apologizes for losing it, again.  A few days before I have to explain to her, again, why she cannot just expect my world to stop because hers has.  I am getting tired of this game, of the emotional overload of it.  I just don’t know what to do to stop it.  I cannot help someone who doesn’t want to help themself.