The Relief of Lashing Out and then Abandoning Intentionally

I have been in therapy for around 20 years and I am well versed in how to treat myself and how to treat others. I even have degrees in communication and conflict management, yet when the disordered part of me kicks in, there is no stopping it. I don’t adhere to these tools all the time and I found myself finding a sense of relief like a valve opening yesterday when I finally lashed out at a friend who I have devalued and I saw a door open to shame her, so I did. I am oddly not embarrassed or feeling guilty like I normally do because I deem I did something wrong. I feel accomplished instead.

For anyone who isn’t aware, BPD is possibly formed somewhere in the DNA, yet various forms of abandonment during those important childhood years such as birth to teenager form our disorder due to lack of parenting, feeling unwanted, lack of stability and you get the picture. I will testify over both my dead parents bodies that they had no fucking business bringing any children into the world. Between the 2 of them, there are 6, possibly 7 of us and none of us grew up together because the parents created us and then gave us away over and over and over again so they could folly in their lives free of responsibility. My mother was the alcoholic abandoner and my father the religious fanatic where I kept sinning so I wasn’t allowed to live with him either. Yes, the thought of them makes me sick currently and anyone in my adult life who tries to parent me falls into the same category making me sick to my stomach and defensive.

After almost 2 years of getting to know a lady 13 years older than I, I began noticing her making statements which I refer to as, “trying to break me.” These are the codependent statements that stand out like red flags to my ears. Things like starting a day out by saying, “are you feeling better today,” when I wasn’t feeling less than the day before. Constant praise for the strangest things and many statements to imply that she is more than me for reasons of being older than I and her own fucking lack of security which has nothing to do with me. I have ignored it over and over until I finally did the mature thing and threw up some boundaries so her fucked up world doesn’t intertwine with mine. After hearing her claim ALL men are stupid and assholes and my favorite, “ALL women get raped,” (I have mentioned this before and obviously am not over it), I said stop and I won’t talk about those things. My statement clearly said, “I refuse to stew in anger or use negativity toward others.” She claims to have been raped by her x-husband and either she wants to normalize this behavior so she feels better or she is trying to lessen the severity of it having happened to me. I wish I had never shared personal things with her, however I was just trying to be vulnerable on my own accord and see how it feels. Well FUCK that!!!

I shut down communication for a few days and then opened the door a little to see how that would go and due to the amount of anger I have over her building statements, and regardless of my boundaries I applied and lack of time for her to practice them, I shut her down by using comparison after she recommended me to a doctor for my spine and I found the doctor repulsive and a fluke. I felt the tail end of my wits and when she asked how my ‘new’ doctor was I let the beast loose. I don’t have to use finger pointing tactics, yet I am a fond practitioner or passive aggressive behavior.

With each word I shared with her about what an asshole the doctor was, I hope it cut into her in ways she would learn to never ever intrude into my personal life again. Mission accomplished, because she had many apologies to which I said nothing and instead, I felt good that she attached to the guilt. I am not familiar with this new feeling of grandiosity I am experiencing and I am sure a therapist would question it, but to me it is like I topped her and she learned the lesson.

This my friends is how the effects of abandonment manifest in we the adults who live with BPD. Failed relationship after relationship and let’s see how many more I can rack up. I do see the acknowledgement of the behavior as progress, so now I will work with that and in the future, maybe set up my boundaries the first times I begin noticing the codependent behaviors coming from others.

I appreciate anyone who has read through this and I hope it reaches someone else so they don’t feel alone in their behaviors that can be complex and hurtful.


Bulimia and I are FINALLY in the process of breaking up!!! Part I The Beginning

I began struggling with Bulimia in 2003. I had exceeded the weight requirements for my position in the military and to boot, physical fitness became equal across the board due to the invasion of Iraq and the probability of all forces going to play war on the ground in dangerous places. It only made sense to match the fitness levels for what we would endure.

Prior to 2003, the Air Force only required an ergonometric test that measured our BPM. It was easy to pass and even I did it when I used to smoke around 1/2 to a whole pack of cigarettes a day. One just needed to focus and keep their breathing as slow as possible and pedal on a stationary bike. I thought the test was stupid to say the least and I don’t now much about the history either, so that is that.

We were given 6 months to prepare for our new endurance tests and so I began training to run. We had to meet 3 times a week to run together and help each other as a flight and it consisted of anywhere from 30-50 people at a time. I was maybe one of the 5 slowest with my mile and a half at 27:52 the first time. I think my time somewhere to maintain for the entire run was maxed out at 17 minutes. There was a weird calculation of BMI, Time, and the crunches and pushup scores. Needless to say, for my first fucking run, I SUCKED!!!

I began running every day after work and doing crunches and pushups every morning and every night like clockwork. After my run in the evening, I always sat down to enjoy a meal. Because of my weight in the 180’s at the time, I exceeded my BMI and had to drop weight. I was asked out loud once a week in front of our flight by supervision how I was doing with losing weight and each time because I hadn’t hit my score and weight goal they made for me, I was told if I didn’t make it, I would be on the “Fat Boy Program.” If one didn’t pass the fat boy program after 2 tries, they were discharged from their service, so the threat was officially up in the air. My job was on the line.

I decided to try the Atkins diet which was a big rave of quick weight loss at the time. Nothing over 20 g net carbs each day. I didn’t think about vitamins and nutrients and ate mostly cheese, meat, maybe a salad here and there with no dressing or a tomato with my meat as a treat. I distinctly remember the evening I sat down with a rare cooked T-bone and sliced tomato, staring at my plate and realizing how pissed off I felt because I was giving up on the foods I had been living off of for the past 6 years. Memories consisted of starting the day with a cappuccino with whatever rich flavored syrup was the latest craze and food was a some kind of biscuit with sausage, cheese and egg available at the shopette and usually with another coffee. Burger King every day for lunch, always onion rings with whatever sandwich. And then in the evening, any restaurant in the local area and any kind of rich filling meal I could find. I would dare to say, with no exercise I was putting away over 2500 + calories on a given day, so it makes sense as to why I gained so much weight. Memory after memory of parties and cake and ice cream, macaroni and cheese with hotdogs sliced up in them or tuna, fried bologna because I was usually by myself with only bologna in the fridge growing up, crackers with my tomato soup, Reese peanut butter cups, oatmeal cookies, McDonalds, rarely vegetables and fruit. It was like an apocalypse was happening in my mind! I devoured the steak and tomato angrily and started scouring my cabinets where I found cereal and some oatmeal granola bars. I went to the nearest convenience store and bought a half gallon of milk to go with my cereal. Back to my apartment I went and I ate bowl after bowl of cereal and milk until the box was gone. Next I piled the unwrapped oatmeal granola bars on a plate and poured a glass of milk in the largest glass I could find and devoured those as well. When I ate, I became primal like a switch flipped inside of me that indicated I had to survive and I didn’t even taste the food I inhaled.

I didn’t feel real and felt like something had taken over or possessed me. I understand that now as impulsivity. When I came to and realized what I had done, I felt miserable mentally and physically. I felt ashamed that I just ate that much food and that I lost control of myself. I felt sick to my stomach due to being so full and afraid of what I had just done to my body. I went just as simple as anything into the bathroom, lifted the lid on the toilet and stuck my finger down my throat as far as I could until the food came back up into the toilet. After it appeared most of what I ate was in the toilet, I flushed it and felt relief finally.

The Tools in my Toolboxes and Shed…

I love days where I am actively being involved in self-care and using the tools I have acquired through 21 years of therapy and the BPD diagnoisis in 2008. Today is one of those days. Everything is fitting together and I am appreciating life more and being in the present with awareness.

I began by taking my dog out and driving to our favorite coffee stop for my custom fitted proper made coffee and my pooch a puppacino. It is her version of treat with whip cream and a bone on top in a little cup where she gets to fish everything out. The baristas are so nice and chatty and they know my pup’s name and talk to her.

Next, home to take in some news, take my medicine which is only cannabis and have my coffee while everything kicks in. I have treated with cannabis for 9 years and it is the thing that works with the least side-effects. I am peculiar that I know the name of and understood strains. I have 2, indica and sativa and use them respectfully; sativa for the day to relieve anxiety, hyperactivity, hypersensitivity, alcohol cravings, anti-social behavior, pain and to help be present. The Indica in the evenings to relieve pain and help me sleep or at least fall asleep. Once a month, I will go 1-5 days without it and I can 100% tell the difference. It is my medicine.

I also have 3 journals for tools and today I wrote in all three. The first one is a list of things I am grateful for. I find gratitude picks my spirit up far quicker than anything else and if we have a roof over our heads and food, we really have a lot more than some others. For gratitude, I get outside the ‘obvious’ box and I search for things I take for granted. The rule of thumb is, I must come up with at least 5 and today’s were: squirrels that give my dog so much attention and keep her busy, the warm flannel my friend gave me to wear, my apple watch to count my steps, vulgarity for expression, and patience.

My second journal is my ‘prayer book’. When I say God, I am not referring to a man with a silver beard in the sky, instead the universe and things that man can not have control over. My simplified ‘God’ is whoever or whatever makes the tide go in and out, simple as that. I write down my prayers and try to push out at least 2-3 pages. I try not to pray for wants unless it is for my health or to sustain my dog and I in the world. I pray for whatever comes to mind. I always pray to be free of suffering, that those who have hurt me be free of suffering and that all beings be free of suffering. I connect my laws of attraction to my hand and what I put out, I pray to get back. I am not sure how the world comes to answer things I pray for or about, but I just keep on doing it because it seems to have a sort of freeing, letting go effect.

My 3rd journal is a journal of important things I read about in the current Eckhardt Tolle book, which is The Power of Now. Today’s reading was about being present and letting go of psychological time. It expressed that the world of form is about gain and loss and if we can already see that we are complete, we can be free from the gain and loss feelings. We can have a joy behind everything we do instead of being in the future for fear of failure.

I have many other journals I bounce back and forth from and my blog is one. If it reaches at least one person, which I see it does, then I have shared about something that can be very difficult and tricky to live with and maybe it helped another have something positive to take from it and use.

The most amazing tool in my shed for the many years I have spent is meditating and being present which has brought me to the point of being aware. I am aware what depression, hopelessness, anger, fear, paranoia, sorrow, insecurity and many other feelings feel like. With this awakening, I don’t have to act on the suffering and can just sit and observe it while understanding that it will pass. I am currently tying the feeling in with places around my body which is bringing a whole new sense of action to help myself. That is for another day.

These are some of the different ways I use to relieve the negative effects of BPD and I hope they can help someone else. May you have peace, love and happiness in your life.

Who gives a fuck?

I am learning to prioritize what I give a fuck about and let the rest of the fucks go. I have held on to giving a fuck about so many things that didn’t have anything to do with me. I have also held on to giving a fuck about many things that may have pertained to me, yet they are gone and in the past. For all those thing, fuck you.

I woke at 0300 with anger and that is not a good sign for me, but I am working hard to change it currently before it takes over and that my friends is called, CBT, practicing awareness and changing the reference of thinking, or using consciousness to guide, not the the sub-conscious.

When I woke, I became aware of conversations in my mind I was having where I rehashed context from previous conversations and changed around the words to be very defensive and leaving my non-present opponent feeling less than with and, “I told you so” way. This is one of the ways my disorder rears its ugly head and if I don’t do something to stop it and get back to me, I get mind fucked; speaking of fucks.

Ahhh…there is a fuck to give, having a decent attitude so I have a decent or more day. For all those conversations in my mind, I don’t give a fuck. For my day, my dog, and my surroundings, I give a fuck.

May you be free of giving a fuck.

Don’t let a diagnosis own you!

I am.

I am not BPD. I suffer with symptoms of the disorder.

I am not overly-sensitive. I am extremely perceptive and attuned to my surroundings.

I am not a black and white thinker. I have tendencies to use black and white thinking for some things.

I am not unstable. I have moments where I am triggered by certain things and suffer temporarily.

I am not self-destructive. I have episodes where my value feels decreased and I have a hard time loving myself.

I am not alone. I can open the door to my home and step out where others are.

I am not crazy. No one is crazy…some of us have behaviors that are different and don’t equate with what is considered normal.

I am not unlovable. Due to difficulties with my understanding of relationships, I need boundaries and help with awareness.

I am not impossible to improve. I choose to become aware and change my actions to get better.

I am in love with what I share with the world when I can.

I am beautiful as all of us are in different ways.

I am worthy of the universe.

I am grateful for what I have and those who care for me.

I am caring as I offer help when I can to others even if it is an ear to listen.

I am youthful as I am stuck where I am the child who was abandoned. It is a promotion for excitement over small things now and I giggle a lot.

I am curious and willing to try new things.

I am love.

I am.

Who are you today?

One of our famous symptoms with BPD is having identity issues and confusion about who we are and our value in this world. I have tried several different identities and I am definitely on the brink of another which I hope is a more gentle and loving person.

With each trauma and crisis, I have the defense mechanism of retreating and recreating myself somehow. I am pretty sure this is confusing to others as I purposely alter my appearance as to assume a new attitude with my reflection and try AGAIN to prosper in the world.

I am just now becoming aware this pattern is part of a healing process. Today is almost a week since the memories of being raped came back to me and now I understand, possibly why I have become some of the characters I chose. The particular one I can refer to is whore. This term in most cases means a derogatory name for a woman who has had many partners. For me, this became a provocative woman who seduced many men.

I am still in a place to where I don’t understand the difference in the girl being raped in the bathroom to the person I am currently sitting in my frumpy flannel in front of a few screens. I feel like the next person I want to be is a care-free hippie like person who is a creature of the earth.

I found in the past year or so that changing my hair color frequently helped me act out and it created a sense of balance which each new change. I felt beautiful each time I did it. Another part of me wants to grow my hair out and be 100% natural so I don’t have to rearrange a budget to accommodate high-maintenance me.

The person I don’t want to be is one who attracts attention from men. I shouldn’t be afraid of the attention and the bigger question is how to work through this process and become unafraid. I shouldn’t be afraid to express my sexuality and I shouldn’t be afraid to be desired. I should be afraid of using my sexuality to punish men. That is what I have come to do over the past 14 years. I become the woman who sees any man I become involved with as one of the men in the bathroom who took my identity while raping me.

It is good that I have my weekly therapist appointment this morning. I obviously have a lot to talk about. I am pretty choked up and confused right now so in closing, may you all be safe from harm, may you all be free of suffering, and may you feel peace and love in the universe.

Are people just fucking awful or just far more confused than I could be?

I am fortunate that I have had years of practice in therapy, CBT classes, DBT classes and practice Buddhism to become aware when it comes to my actions, speech and intent. I am finally to the point where I don’t act out toward others and project much. I act out alone and this is when I am in danger of self-harm. The more I replace the harmful behaviors with the healthy ones, the better life is. This comes with a downside in that I can’t be around others much and I feel lonely from time to time.

I tried to hang out with a friend I have known for a year or so and unfortunately, she doesn’t understand how dangerous it is to compare ourselves to others and how harmful all or nothing language is. We are both combat veterans and have suffered several traumas. I have just become vocal after 14 years about being raped during my service. The furthest I got was acknowledging I was raped out loud to a few others. I blocked out a lot of it and this past weekend when she made some comments, I was triggered and the memories came back like I was in that moment again.

My friend had been drinking (big first no, no) and she said, “All women have been raped!” At first, I couldn’t figure out what was her intent for the statement and excitement. I just stopped and stared as she told me her husband had raped her several times. Everything around me began to seem like it was in slow motion. She kept talking and I disassociated.

14 years ago, I went through a phase in the military where I lost a lot of weight and became very healthy with minimal fat and a lot of muscle. A girl I worked with mocked me a lot because I wore baggy t-shirts and jeans all the time as they were comfortable and I wasn’t trying to impress others at the time. She said I was beautiful and I should show my body off and wear things that were fitting. I felt hurt and unaccepted, so off I went to have her help me shop and wear things that were more becoming. I wound up looking like her twin; tight short shorts, tight baby doll t-shirts where there was no room for the imagination when it came to what was under my clothes.

She began taking me out drinking and to concerts. I got more attention than I imagined with the skimpy clothes and when I drank it was like social lubricant so after a divorce and abortion I was finally finding the courage to acknowledge men again. I began dating a guy in my same flight and he invited me to a party with some of his co-workers. We were drinking and I remember people around a bon-fire in a field back of a house. I didn’t know anyone else at the party, so I tried to make friends and talk some. I noticed many people were sneaking off to use the bathroom in the field away from the fire and I left on a trail for the house and a normal toilet. I remember walking in the house not finding a bath downstairs and wound upstairs. I found a bathroom and as I turned on the light, I felt someone come up behind me and both of my arms jerked behind my back, then something shoved in my mouth. I was shoved into the bathroom and face first into a sink. I felt my skirt jerked up and heard another voice that sounded like a growl, “hold her.” As I tried to scream and fight, I could taste fabric in my mouth and feel saliva coming out of the sides. I felt arms being pulled in several directions and the cold sink against my forehead and chin. Each time I tried to raise my head, I hit the faucet and it felt like it was cutting into my scalp. I felt my legs forced apart and was raped over and over. I remember my body giving out at one point, my mind going numb and hearing laughter. The next memory I have was put into a cab by my date and him giving direction to my home. I don’t remember getting into my home and nothing else until I woke the next day. I had bruises all over my back and arms, what looked like teeth marks on my shoulder and my vagina felt like it had been anhialated. I got in the shower and turned on the hot water and nothing, nothing in the world could wash off what I went through the night before.

Yes, those sick fucks who took advantage of me are fucking horrible. I am finally able to remember and acknowledge I am in the present and not that moment, which is relief. I am ashamed that I wore those kind of clothes that attracted that kind of attention. I am embarrassed I didn’t stand up to the girl who mocked me about my appearance. I obviously had respect for my body and didn’t need to show it off for attention. What kind of fucking world do we live in if we can’t own our own sexuality?

I didn’t move much the day after. It was a Sunday and I slept mostly until I went into work the following morning. I stood for the morning meeting and then went out back to smoke by myself. My boss followed me, for I assumed becuase I was quiet, which wasn’t my norm. She asked me what was wrong, and I said point blank. “I was raped at a party and I need help.” She questioned me, “Are you sure?” I just stared at her blankly because what the fuck kind of question was that? She left me there and said she would get back with me later. She never did and everything in my life was in slow motion.

I ignored as many people as possible that week and worked to forget. I volunteered to work outside of my section in an opening painting because I was afraid of others. I also ignored the man I had dated and he showed up unannounced to my home where he found me bleeding out from my wrist on my dining room floor the following Sunday. I woke later in an ER with stitches in my wrist being consoled by a military chaplain. I sliced my wrist for the first time and I wanted to die. I was then taken to a mental health ward where I spent 7 days, my birthday being one of them. The following week after returning to work from the hospital, a First Sergeant and personal liaison between our service and personal life scheduled an appointment with me and suggested for me to apply for orders and let her know after I did as she would help me get to where I wanted.

I will never know if my boss told anyone or what transpired behind closed doors in conversation. I applied to go to Korea for a year the following day and a week later, received orders to move. I was swept under the rug like a dirty fucking secret and lost faith in the most of humanity. For the past 14 years, until this past weekend, all I have been able to remember was turquoise bath mats and how my body looked and felt when I woke up. I call me being able to write about this and recollect PROGRESS!

So, my friend who said, “all women are raped,” was maybe just trying to connect with me on some kind of level. I am sympathetic to her circumstance, but can’t really compare nor would I ever want to. I hope my friend gets help from her incidents and that no one should ever have to endure such violation.

Today marks a great moment in healing for me and I hope others can be brave enough to tell their story. I hope when they ask for help that they will not be turned away. I have come to understand suffering with BDP may have become for me from abandonment in earlier childhood, but the moment I was raped, I split and became a different person. I can never get that other person back, but I can share my experiences without fear anymore.

May you be free of suffering and present in your moments. May you love yourself enough to take care of yourself. May you have peace and happiness.