These are the moments. The moments where I feel like no one else in this world understands me. They just happen. I watch a movie and suddenly the tears fall. Well that happens with most women but with me. It’s different. I don’t feel like most people feel. I feel. I feel the heartache. The pain. The joy. I understand. I watch a movie and I think “wow, that movie is my life”. Do I have something wrong with me? Do I have a form of autism. Do I have aspergers? I have always felt different, all my life. I have always felt like no one else understands me. I have always felt misplaced in this world. I long to belong. Yet some weird way I have. But don’t realize it. People at work look up to me. All I see of me is this fucked up person that has no idea who she is herself. I still don’t know what I wanna be when I grow up. I don’t think I ever will. There’s about 5-6 things I’ve always wanted to be. But pursued none of them. Why? Fear of failing. Fear of disappointment. Fear of not being good enough. Because I never was as a child. I didn’t fit it. I didn’t belong. I tried so hard. My mother hated me. My father only wanted my brother. I was lost. Alone. Sad. Depressed. Deeply depressed. So I joined the army. The best and worst years of my life. I felt like I belonged somewhere. Until life got worse. The bipolar was disagnosed at the age of 19. The angry outbursts. The long and weary road of finding someone to love me for me. The way I am. The quirkiness. The loneliness. The misunderstood me. I question whether I ever will be understood. I have a husband who loves me no matter what I say or throw across the room at him. A child who is afraid of me at times but loves me unconditionally. A mother who has only recently figured out that I’ve always been the one there for her. Not my brother. And yet I’m still just this misunderstood person. Like most of us. I think we all long to belong. And fit somewhere. And then there’s the voice in my head……
I don’t tell people I have a voice on my head because well about 98% of them will truly think I’m crazy. Hell I wonder if I’m part schizophrenic at times myself. This voice is not the voice of reason. This voice is Audible. It sounds like me. But isn’t me. I thought it was God at times. Now I just don’t know. I ask myself a question and it answers. Do we all have this voice and I’m not alone. Or am I just that crazy?
I just wanted someone to love me for me. And appreciate all that I do. Because I do so much for so many people. I just don’t feel appreciated. Maybe that’s it? No it can’t be that simple with me. It’s never that simple with me.
My son. The love of my life. He’s even more misunderstood than I am. He’s different. Physically. Mentally. emotionally. I’m doing to him what they did to me without even realizing it. This poor child. He lights up my life. Every day I come home and he gives me this huge smile when he sees me and his smile is amazing. The love he has for me and others is amazing. Yet a typical pre-teen boys attitude comes along with it. I want him to understand that I understand he’s different. I want him to know it’s ok. That I love him no matter what. My baby boy. The only thing I ever did right in this world. My precious baby boy who is now 12. Not a baby anymore. How I hate that he has grown up. I never understood pure true love until I had my child. I’d do anything for him. I’ll always love you sweetheart. ❤
So why do my husband and I spend more quality time together on a deeper connection when we play video games together?
I’m just saying girls. If you’re not playing video games WITH your husband or boyfriend you’re totally missing out. Not only do you get more interaction from him but it’s also something he loves and you’ll have fun too. Damn. I should write a book on how to be the perfect girl. I’ll leave the part out where I threw a candle holder across the room the other night…….
What? Don’t judge me…..I am not perfect. But I’m pretty damn good at this game now. Plus I met some really cool people along the way….
I’m also slightly a nerd and read the books in the game. The lusty Argonian is still one of my favorites.
Plus you get to take cool pics:
Ok. Sleep time. Laters. 💞
So what’s the “norm” or “etiquette” for blogging? Are you allowed to blog once a day? Or is this anytime I’m bored? Or when I have something to say? Who cares? This is my blog so fu** it. I’ll do what I want.
So I’m a Christian. A crappy one. But (yes I know you don’t start a sentence with but either). ….ok pause… let me get this off my chest first. I know the English language. I understand grammar. I am a grammar nazi, however; this is MY blog and if I wanna use piss poor grammar I will. Thanks. Anyways…. back to me being a crappy Christian. Well I am. I believe in God. I believe Jesus is the messiah. I goto church. However i consistently fall short of being a good Christian. Thankfully the Father forgives.
Ok so there’s that. So about my borderline personality disorder. It’s something I’d never wish on my own worst enemy. Living this lif is…well as my husband says…never a dull moment.
I have these severely intense emotions. I call it just being empathetic. However it consumes me. I really want to hurt things sometimes. I want to break stuff. I want to punch shit. Yeah. Little ole me. It’s like this completely other person at time. How do you control an uncontrollable rage? *sigh* my life is exhausting.
Time for church. Laters. 💖
Holy shit! I had this super long post and WordPress decided not to save it. So nooooow you get the even shorter version. Ugh.
Well I’m 36. Living with Borderline Personality Disorfer since I was 17. My mom hated me. We love each other now though. It’s ok guys. Really.
My sons failing school. My husband won’t finish my office. My dog has severe anxiety. I can’t sleep anywhere in the house because everyone snores. I have two degrees I don’t even wanna use. I have a weird addiction to only 1 video game. Elder Scrolls online. No one is even gonna read this probably. I love talking to everyone.
My BPD makes me “crazy”….oh excuse me for those sensitive people out there..let’s call it…. .nah screw that. I’m sticking with crazy. Get over yourself. Anywho.
I figured this was my out. My way to express my life and fix it. Maybe!? Everyone says write in a journal. Why do I wanna cramp my hand up by writing when I can give my thumbs their own personal carpal tunnel syndrome instead? Yes. Perfect. My left wrist had cramped three times already.
Oh yeah I’m an Army Veteran. Only 6 years. I’m proud of it but I don’t flaunt it. It’s over so I moved on. I’ve been mentally unstable since I was about ohhhhh… 17 maybe? Maybe soon I’ll give you a part of my life that explains a day in the life of the crazy girl….. then again maybe not.
Maybe one day I’ll look back at this and laugh….or cringe. Until then…laters. 💖