a life ineffable

The Physical Bit

tumblr_mam8vqr13o1rgafc4o1_500It’s amazing how my emotions hijack my body. During times of pain, and loss, and longing, my heart feels as if it’s expanded into my entire chest cavity and throat, trying to burst out. It’s uncomfortable, like something huge is stuck, something that needs to be ripped out through my mouth. The ache is so painful I can feel it, and I have to fight the urge to thump myself hard in the chest just to shift it somewhere else.

It makes it’s presence known. I can’t focus on people around me, I just sit and marvel at the fact I’m still able to breathe with this thing within me. It feels like a thick, slimy, sack – but inside are a thousand of me screaming and crying and holding myself. Thousands of me struggling to catch my breath through the tears, thousands of me vomiting because my staggered breathing has disturbed my stomach. Thousands of me clawing at my chest to stop the pain. A thousand pairs of red raw eyes pleading for anything to end the grief.

It’s like hearing thousands of me sobbing through a muffled wall. No-one else can hear it, or feel it writhing inside of me.

I sit quietly, ‘mmming’ and ‘ahhing’ to my friend on the sofa. Inside I’m dying.

The funny thing is now I’m home alone, I don’t cry. I can’t shed a single tear. The all-consuming pain is wrapped around my heart. Tethered-in tightly with knots I tied myself.

I wonder if a cry would do me good? Or, if I started crying; would I ever stop? Either way, it won’t happen.

I’ll sit with my knots, fingers barely touching the rough string. I can’t unpick these myself, I only seem to tighten them a little more.



Spending enough time sighing and casting my gaze towards the floor lately, might as well photograph what’s down there

So I made contact with the guy.

I am making good progress on myself. After spending the evening with a friend I decided to embark upon a small project to get my ‘editing’ juices flowing, and a little prep work for the business I want to eventually set up.

That being said, I hate not knowing where I stand, so I called him. He said he didn’t want to talk on the phone, only to text. I refused to engage in any conversation this way – it’s pointless. You want to talk? Pick up the phone or come and meet me.

Anyway, he eventually called, seemingly unphased by recent events. I let him know the ball is in his court. I said that I love him, and that I miss him. But I also said his behaviour is inconsistent and his unreliability is starting to wear painfully thin. It’s getting so close to the stage where I’d rather live with the constant ache of being alone, than be in a happy place, only to be shoved free-falling towards misery with no warning.

I can’t cope with all this let down, it’s just breaking my heart. I should have walked away the first time, but there’s this stupid little voice inside that won’t let things be until I’ve exhausted all options. Until I can finally walk away saying ‘I did everything I could – it’s not me’. The other option is if someone meets me halfway, but I’ve yet to see that.

So while my friends and family hold their loved ones close tonight, I’ll sleep alone and weigh up my options.

I’m not deluded, I don’t want massive declarations of love, I don’t want a walkway lit with sodding candles, I just want someone to scoop me up, tell me they love me and that they’ll always be here for me, and that everything is going to be okay.

Fuck sake I just want someone who loves me the way I love them. I’m seeing this shit everywhere – in my friends and in letters and texts people are sending one another.

I know what my flaws are, I know I’m not perfect, I know that in order for me to be a better person I need to go to counselling. It’s a bitter pill to swallow having this diagnosis, and I’m genuinely frightened by what’s in store for me. I don’t want this horrible label, but I’m gonna suck it up and get the fuck on with it. Give me your counselling, give me your meditation, give me your DBT, fuck it I’ll even try the meds again.

I have a care-coordinator for fuck sake! I can’t even coordinate my own sodding care. Talk about dysfunctional. I know other people have way worse problems, but I’m not gonna dwell on that because there will always be people in way better situations too. I don’t want to compare my life to others’, that’s a head-fuck. I just want to be the best I can be.

I also just want to be loved.

The Hangover Morning

So day one sans-guy went unexpectedly alright. I blogged, I sorted my room, I did all my clothes washing. I kept myself busy and only had a few moments with nothing to do. 

Went out with the housemate to a fireworks display and had a bloody brilliant time . We drank quite a bit as in our tipsy, rebellious states we hopped the fence to the VIP tent because we thought it was a quicker way to the food stalls. Turns out if was a free unlimited booze tent with an endless supply of prosecco. In pint cups. 

So yes a little tipsy. After getting completely pissed we snagged a selfie with the Mayor and stumbled to a Thai restaurant (we’d just had prosecco, so no kebabs as you have to end the night as you meant to go on, darling with a bit of class).

Eventually found train station and made our way home. At just gone midnight I text the guy a link on how to make your own bottle cap coffee table, then fell asleep. 

This morning:

That’s cool. What you up to? 

Sorry was drunk when I sent that. 

No problem. I shouldn’t have replied.

Even the slightest contact is a bit painful, but I’m not going to further this. Have to make myself happy, and so far I’ve not been unhappy. 


Well that didn’t take long. I’ve sorted my room, I’ve showered and done my hair. Now I’m trying to edit some photographs and I’m not feeling it.

I’m going to a fireworks display tonight with my housemate, so that’s something to do. This is the bit that’s hard – when you’ve not spoken to anyone in a few hours. Housemate has boyfriend over so they’re in her room, so it’s just me.

What to do? Blog. Blog. Blog.

It’s 14.30, and we probably won’t leave here to catch the train until about 16.45 I imagine. 2 hours to fill my time. Could watch a film, or play a game on my laptop.

I’m still feeling confident that I don’t want to speak to the guy, although I keep checking my phone. It’s ridiculous. Something has shifted though. I don’t feel desperate, and I don’t feel like begging him to come over and work it out. I’ve done nothing wrong, why should I? I’ve got to look out for number 1 now, no-one else will.


I’m having this weird burst of inspiration today. I’m not sure what the change is though. Because I broke it off with the guy last night? Because of my friend’s pep talk this morning?

All I know is that I’ve been here before. Step 1. Make a plan. Step 2 is ‘sticking to plan’, but that’s the bit that is hard. What if I wake up tomorrow in a bottomless pit? What if my emotions go AWOL? I can’t blog 24/7, I’ll get bored. Then what will I do? I can only create for so long…then come the thoughts and the loneliness. That’s when I’m at my weakest and I start up the negative behaviours. Eating shit, drinking, calling the guy.

This BPD thing has shown me all the different people I can be. I can be creative, inventive and ambitious. I can be kind, loving and generous. I can be peaceful, relaxed and calm. In other circumstances I can be aggressive, cruel and downright nasty. I can be condescending, patronising and unsupportive. I hate this version of myself, but it apparently only comes out on certain people. I want it to stop. I was never this cruel with my ex, but then again my ex (sometimes) showed me support and I felt safe with a future.

Anyway, I shouldn’t be relying on anyone. It’s a sad realisation that I’m coming to that because of my state of mental health I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to actually maintain a good relationship. I do sometimes wonder if I set standards too high, or that in episodes of rejection I simply forget all the goods aspects that the other person brings to the relationship. Either way, I’ve been stood up a few times by someone who I’m trying to rely on. I can’t deal with such inconsistent reliability. I can’t deal with stroppy, teenager-like behaviour, and I certainly can’t deal with waiting for someone to ‘adult up’ enough to be able to have an actual conversation, and I need to keep reminding myself of this.

Tidy room, tidy mind

Last night was not a good night. I’ve come to this fork in life so many times. Am I being treated properly? Do I deserve this? Is this the best path for me to stay on?

The guy stood me up last night. We were meant to reunite with my close friends he hadn’t seen before he went on the dating site a couple of months ago, and just didn’t turn up. I couldn’t get hold of him, and when I eventually did after everything was over there was no apology, no remorse. I stood, alone, amongst happy couples and their children as the fireworks exploded above. I even bought him candyfloss because I was sure he was going to show.

My chest hurt so much when I realised he wasn’t coming, and then some more when he said he couldn’t be bothered to even come and see me after.

‘Why don’t you want to see me?’

‘I don’t know’

So this morning I decided to forget about him for a while, and focus on me. I can make me happy. I reached out to a friend who gave me a hug, fed me breakfast and gave me good advice. I find it particularly difficult to reach out to people, to anyone in fact. So that was a pat on the back for me.

I’ve stuck by my guns too. Today I was going to blog, so I am. First order of the day: tidy room, tidy mind.


That feels a bit better.

What do I want?

‘The Women’ was on telly this evening, and the lovely Bette Midler was on screen giving advice to Meg Ryan.

“Don’t give a shit about anyone. Be selfish, because once you ask yourself the question: What about me? Everything changes for the better. I mean after all, who are you? What do you want?”

And I just turned to my housemate and said ‘Yeah. What the fuck do I want?”

What if I wasn’t so reliant on the guy? What if I had a few evenings to myself rather than rely solely on him for purpose?

This is my first evening to myself in literally WEEKS, and I’ve been so productive. Sure, 2 blog posts might seem nothing to some people, but it’s ME, and I CREATED them. I produced something for myself – not for work or for money, and there’s something about that that’s pure.

So, what do I want?

I don’t mean the big stuff, like moving to Canada, or travelling to new and wonderful places, or buying my own place. I mean the stuff that defines me on a level outside of work and love.

  • I want to write
  • I want to set up a part-time editing business
  • I want to take photographs

I wish it was as easy as all that. I felt safe enough once, and I created the most wonderful things. I just need to feel safe again.

Where’s the guy now? He’s at his house with his cousin who’s visiting. He’ll be working this Saturday and Sunday, so I might take myself out of the house, find a nice little spot somewhere and sit with a coffee and blog a little more.


I’m still here. Still inhaling, exhaling.

I’m bored of my life. My house, my work, my body, everything. I want to live somewhere new, and have a new job, and be away from shit food and temptation to eat it. I want to be a size 10 again. I’m bored of everything.

I live in a shared house, and I’m still in my ‘stepping-stone’ job. The people are lovely, the work is painfully dull, and I am far too over-qualified. I am permanently exhausted despite the exercise, and the diet and all that other bullshit. I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep since before I can remember.

I could move, I could quit. I just need to save enough for this stupid mortgage, so I can buy a shit overpriced flat. I need this shit overpriced flat for the following reasons:

  • An investment as a retirement fund (in case of shit pension as not working as ill)
  • Somewhere to move to when dumped/divorced again

Those are the main two reasons pretty much.

So here I just exist. No hobbies. A boring twat. Christ I can’t even muster the energy to put humour into my posts anymore. It’s like the old me is just dead. I genuinely thought I would be okay and not bitter after I got divorced. I was still young and hopeful, but then was chipped away at by a few people since then.

You hear of people becoming bitter after being really hurt. Have you heard of people coming back from it though? Nothing comes to mind and that scares me.

I want the old me back, the one who would spend hours of thinking of ways to have fun with my partner, ways to surprise them or places to take them. I seriously don’t care anymore, and it kills me.





Less than 24 hours later

Walk away, head held high because YOU’VE BEEN WRONGED

You’re smart, loyal, loving and caring and not drop-dead gorgeous (but pretty alright when you put the effort in)

There was so much logic and clarity yesterday. The girl who stood up to that shit and said ‘no’ was me. The real me. BPD me had other plans today though. Less than twenty-four hours after my last post and I’ve done all this shit:

  • Called him back
  • Stalked him to where he was
  • Joined him kayaking
  • Hit him with the oar
  • Splashed him repeatedly
  • Wouldn’t let his kayak go because we needed to talk
  • Wouldn’t let him take his bike and leave
  • Took the front wheel off his bike and hid the bolts
  • Wouldn’t give the bolts back and argued in the baking sun for a couple hours
  • Made him go back to his place in my car
  • Threatened to tell his family about his uni fuck up
  • Threatened not to take the pill any more
  • Threatened to tell his landlord he’s not a student any more
  • Refused to leave his house
  • Stole the spare keys to his house
  • Threatened to smash numerous glasses/mirrors to hurt myself
  • Threatened him and knocked him a couple of times with his hurling stick
  • Bit him
  • Hit him
  • Threatened to kill myself

He ripped up our photographs, he pushed me, he elbowed me, he pinned me to the floor.

My beautiful boy is gone, and I don’t want to be here any more.

It’s a lovely, hopeful world when you’ve got your best friend at your back – but when they’re gone why carry on??

I don’t want to be single again. I don’t want to be alone again. I’ve bought so much alcohol and I’m going to drink it all.

My husband didn’t want me any more, even though I did everything right. My boyfriend doesn’t want me anymore after he treated ME like shit. I’ve done everything right. EVERYTHING. I was honest, I was loyal, I was caring. Doesn’t fucking matter. They love you one day and fuck you over the next.

Chin chin everyone!!! Maybe this will give me the Dutch courage I need. Or maybe it won’t. BPD eh? What a RIGHT LAUGH.

Love you Dad xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx



Blog at

Up ↑