For å være ærlig liker jeg ikke stempelet eller merkelappen emosjonelt ustabil personlighetsforstyrrelse borderline-typen. Det er to negative ord i den beskrivelsen: ”ustabil” og ”forstyrret”. ”Forstyrret” for meg høres sykt ut, jeg er ikke syk for det spurte jeg nemlig terapeutene mine om. Altså, jeg er ikke syk, men går i terapi, da kommer neste spørsmål- hvorfor? Vel, jeg klarer ikke å regulere mitt eget følelsesliv. For meg bygges det for eksempel opp på grunn av flere hendelser i løpet av uken, tilslutt når det toppen og kommer ut i form av gråt, maktesløshet, tanker som tapper meg for viljen til å leve, følelsen av at dette orker jeg ikke mer- jeg orker ikke flere følelser. Da jeg var i tenårene var det mye verre enn nå, jeg kuttet meg, tok piller sammen med alkohol, hele tiden hadde jeg tanker om den ideelle måten å dø på. Men jeg ville ikke dø, jeg bare orket ikke å leve, og hva er da alternativet? Folk generelt tror at jeg bare tåler alt, nettopp fordi jeg har blitt nødt til å tåle alt. Smerten inni meg kan ingen se, jeg sluttet å kutte meg og arrene mine vokste fint, nå kan nesten ingen se tegn på at jeg noen gang led. Savner jeg oppmerksomheten? Litt, men jeg hater oppmerksomhetssyke folk og personlig fikk jeg dårlig samvittighet for at ”jeg” og min ”forstyrrelse” tok så mye plass fra de rundt meg. Jeg ville skåne dem fra meg og utviklet en ny ”taktikk” som gjør at alle mine ”utbrudd” kommer når jeg er alene, når ingen kan se meg, dømme meg, dokumentere at jeg er ”forstyrret” fordi jeg vil være normal. Jeg har blitt så overraskende flink til å være normal at folk aldri tenker at jeg sliter med noe – det har vært det jeg har foretrukket. Men nå etter såpass mange år med terapi orker jeg ikke å leve i skjul lenger, å maskere hvem jeg er på grunn av skam for den jeg er kommer ikke til å fungere i lengden. Det har vært hendelser som har gjort meg redd meg selv igjen, redd for hva jeg kan gjøre, men jeg skal ikke, jeg vil egentlig ikke, jeg vil lære å kontrollere meg og jeg er på vei. Er det en ting jeg vil unngå så er det å være en byrde for familien min, jeg er lei av dette sporet jeg ikke klarer å komme ut av. Jeg er oppriktig lei meg for det jeg har gått gjennom som jeg aldri fikk lov til å være lei meg for. ”Tenk hvis” er ord som har brent seg fast i netthinnen. Jeg er så vanvittig lei av å sammenligne meg med andre, hvorfor skal egentlig dere være bedre enn meg? Jeg romantiserer nesten alle jeg treffer, alle er bedre eller har det bedre enn meg. Uheldigvis har jeg truffet mange menn som også har trykket meg langt ned, kalt meg umulig, komplisert og sagt til meg at folk som sliter psykisk er skumle. Hvis jeg skal få si en ting så er jeg ikke skummel, jeg har aldri gått inn for å såre noen eller skade noen. Den jeg skader er meg selv. Alle sliter med noe, alle har forskjellige personligheter og trekk som ikke nødvendigvis er så veldig nyttige. Alt jeg ønsker er å bli forstått og at en dag vil jeg klare å si til meg selv ” Det er ok å være deg, og ikke som alle andre”.
For those of you who’ve read my blog already know about me struggling with family issues. My family members have made it hard for me to trust after being lied to and let down many times, unfortunately I’ve brought this mistrust with me into my friendships and relationships. I’ve yet to find a partner. I must say I’ve been very unfortunate in that department. Some might look at me as a whore that only sleeps around, some whish they could let go and do the same. But that doesn’t really matters, what matters is that I too want to find somebody, I just haven’t come across a person that has made me trust. Most people I’m with open up a lot because I’m very open, for instance about my problems, and I understand. Some people might not talk so openly, as me, about so-called “problems” and keep it to themselves. And when they meet me, who’s also very curious, they open up.
I was talking to a friend to day and we were talking about this, that some people sometimes are desperate to talk to somebody about their issues, and when they meet a person that’s is open and honest they use the situation. I feel I’ve been used as a therapist by many people, and amongst them a lot of boys. In the end I felt like the man who had to listen and be understanding, and not really being listened to. My older sister said to me that I’ve got to ask less questions when I want to get to know people, so that they won’t open up so much. I guess maybe I should change, but I can’t help it, I’m very curious about people and their life, who they are as a person etc. But this has been a problem with every guy I’ve ever met when it gets a little bit serious, and especially when it comes to talking about our lives. They might say: My parents got a divorce. Then I say something about me: I was forced to stay with my dad every other weekend and wasn’t let out of the house until my mother picked me up on Sundays. (This will be to not freak the person out with the rest of what I could’ve told him). Then they get the confused face, they’re either thinking: what do I say now, should I change the subject? Or “should I say something comforting?”, or they continue talking about themselves. I usually say I don’t need any advice because for me these are facts; it’s not anything I need to talk about.
I’m just tired of feeling used like a therapist. People who’ve actually been through something horrible don’t always want to talk about it or being used as a shrink. People automatically think we’ve got the strength to listen and listen, when sometimes we just need someone to be understanding. What we’ve been through will never leave us; we just have to learn how to live with it for the rest of our lives.
Is it true that women are from Venus and men from Mars? I think I put having a relationship on hold because I thought so. I thought we were very different, but are we? Of course there are physiological differences, but we all feel and want to share what’s happening in our lives. I used to despise men, thinking everybody’s a prostitute-using asshole (like my dad). Most guys I’ve met in my life have tried to put me down, but I always power through. I’ve never let a man not know that he’s undermining me. I guess I’m kind of a feminist.
Recently my uncle told my mother that I should delete this blog (in his mind ”protecting” me from not getting any jobs in the future, and he didn’t see any point in writing it). A lot of men in my life feel threatened by me and say things to make me feel bad about myself, and leaving me feeling used. They can say whatever they want; I’m not going to remove my voice. And yes, I want my voice to be heard because a lot of people suffer in their personal lives. Family issues are quite common and I want to speak out, not feeling ashamed about it so that things still stay taboo. What I talk about (when I write about my personal life) happen to a lot of people: anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, violence. The list is long. But I’m so happy that I’ve mostly gotten supporting comments. I don’t need people’s pity, I want people to understand and be understanding of people’s struggles in their daily life. I’m telling you: your wounds will heal.
I’m sorry I will never see you hermanito mio.
I’m sorry I will never be a sister to you, only a distant figure.
I’m sorry that you were made for selfish purposes.
I’m sorry you will feel the way I felt.
I’m sorry that your father is a psycho,
and your mother a gold digger.
I’m sorry I will never hold your hand, and see you grow up.
I’m sorry I lost you when I knew you where alive.
When I was little my father said to me only weak people cry. I only saw him cry once, that was in my grandfather’s funeral. If I talk too long to anybody about my Grandfather I start to cry, because he was like a father to me. Before I never cried in front of anybody, I was ashamed of doing it. I felt weak because I wanted to cry all the time. I usually cried in my sleep so nobody would hear, I felt invisible. I especially don’t like men seeing me cry, because I hate to feel like weak woman who needs a guy to rescue her. My father has seen me cry, and for a long time the only other man who’d seen me was my therapist. The third person was actually the tour guide of the Spanish school I was studying at. Me and another woman watched a movie called “Camino”. At the end he came into the room and explained more about it, and I just couldn’t stop the tears from falling, stroking my blushing cheeks. I felt a bit embarrassed.
I don’t know why it’s like that, that you can’t cry. I cry if I see a sad movie, or if I see a happy movie. I cry happy tears and sad tears.
You know the saying “crying your heart out” I’ve felt it. At one point in my life I was so hurt I felt like dying. It’s a horrible feeling that I don’t wish anyone to experience.
I am an emotional person, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong about it. It’s better to cry and get comfort than to cry in the darkness alone.
I won’t get lost in your world.”
I’m not saying I’m psychotic. I was referring to this song.
But I won’t say I’m normal either.
Some days ago I passed out on the dance floor. I took my allergy pill before we had some people over, so I took it in hurry with some beer. I felt very drowsy, but was fit to go out. (I was nowhere near being drunk)
After talking and listening to music we went to a nightclub at 2 am. In Spain you don’t go dancing before 2 or 3 am. I didn’t drink at the club, was busy dancing. We went outside in the cold air, and when I got inside again I felt weak. Somebody bumped into me and I fell. I woke up on the floor a minute later. The people I was with helped me and we went outside. They thought I had been drugged. I was okay straight away, only had a strong headache. It was a bit embarrassing. The only thing I could think of was that I had taken my pill with alcohol. The next day I checked it out on the Internet. It said it should never be taken with alcohol, and that you can feel fatigued. I knew my tablets have some side affects, the pharmacists always tell me that this drug makes you very drowsy. I get my drugs on a prescription, and it’s not for some sneezing during springtime. I’ve got a chronic illness, its’ called cold urticaria. I usually never tell people about it because no one believes me. I’ve had it for years and I absolutely hate it. Knowing that I have to take a pill when it gets cold. I don’t like taking them and usually I don’t. It’s another thing that makes me feel like I don’t fit in. I hate snow, and minus degrees and I’m from Norway!
I was really scared the next day because I’ve never blacked out before. And I felt ashamed when everybody asked me if I was fine. I can’t stand that question, because usually the answer to that question is “no”. But I lie and pretend everything is fine. I don’t like being pitied. I don’t like when people feel sorry for me, like I don’t know how to take care of myself. Well, newsflash I’ve been doing it most of my life. Not everybody gets to have a sane family.
At least now I can cross blacking out of my “things to experience in life”-list. I don’t feel very normal, but what is normal? And yes, I can be a bit psycho at times…