Dreams vs Reality. 

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It’s is possible that dreams overlap reality? As I drove my car a dream took over all the senses and it was like I was living the dream while I drove but it was my “reality” I know I’m awake… right? I mean as I type this I’m in “my reality” and it was here that my dream overlapped. It’s not the first time it’s happened i just never knew how to explain it till now. It’s not dejavú – it’s not that it happened before, but a man was in my dream was a truck in my reality, a stop sign a door… it overlapped I knew what both were there was definite distinction between the two. 

I have a theory/viewpoint on how this “reality” is. It’s close to Mayans and Shamans and how we live in a dream. Everything that happens happenes within, everything I experience is because of the perception that it’s exists – but just like a dream it’s “not real ” but it is at the same time. Like non-duality. Something can’t exist without the other but nothing exists at the same time. I believe in string theory too where everything is connected in energy. If I move my arm I pull on someone else string across the universe. I have that much of an affect. But in another plane it’s not real, but it is. 

So anyway as my dreams overlap with reality I find myself having trouble understanding life… what is the point? As I view space we are so minute yet here we are worried about our hair or what clothes we wear. We are so bound by our own gravity we can’t look up to see the stars. 

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There use to be…

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A time in my life where I would listen to this music over and over and over hopin it would stir something in me, courage maybe to get my cowardly self up and kill my self. I hated bein me, I hated having to wake up, feel the way I did atoneing for my actions daily. I hated my life in a way that was so simple it made sense to end it all. What was this purpose? My presence is only hurting things, the planet, life. Another mouth to feed, another person to take care of, another tax payer living to pay bills. As I put the gun to my head I just didn’t understand what was keeping us all here why do we have this “survival” gene encoded in us. What makes us fear? Why do we fear?  All I knew was that I needed to go. Not to a far away place where my troubles resided still but to another place of another time, of another field, another dimension.  

I had my pick of any gun I wanted- i just separated from my husband (he kicked me out of he house) I was living with my friends ex bf who was a gun collector – most fully loaded some illegal, sitting in this room I choose three. She and he both knew I had been baker acted twice once for suicide, yet they still put me in this room to live till the house we were going to live in was finished remodeling but I had no choice because I had no where else to go… the last time I went home to my family was the first suicide attempt. 

So it’s around midnight thumb on the trigger for a long while safety off ready, waiting, I thought “I have nothing to live for, what’s the point? I have nothing, I’ve done nothing,” and I felt worthless… Then it was like a light bulb came on with two things… One; I’d feel awful if they had to clean my blood stains off the wall and two; that’s my purpose; TO MAKE all those questions mean something and my stubbornness kicked in and I thought I’ll make my life worthwhile, I’ll make my life memorable, I’ll make it a point to live. I rebelled against myself. It wasn’t until later I found my way but it was a stepping stone and a promise, I was by no means “better” or happier, it didn’t make me feel any better but I put it down with intention, not cowardness. I put it down knowing the journey ahead could mean more than just paying bills, more than just getting by

But as I write this here now I see that the last 3 years so much has gotten in my way. And I allowed it. I could give it all up, move away. Never to return. But where’s the life responsibility? How do you tell your brain damaged mother I’m never coming back? Who’s life is in a bad situation… how can I let her life be bad why I try to make mine? So I continue on this path of guilt. 

Have to Say it Now

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So Because of my severe mood swings due to my BPD when I swing one way then to the next it’s like I’m a completely different person and I will either regret or not ever say or do something on either spectrum. Right now I’m just lost. In order for me to tell you something you have to catch me in the moment of the mood for me to tell you what it is that you want to know. It’s not that I’m lying to you, it’s just that I’m not in the mood to tell you. SO now that I’m in the mood to tell you all of this and I am near a computer I will finally tell you. This goes for my therapist as well. She thinks I’m doing “better” Well let me tell you something MS! I AM most certainly NOT doing any better than I was doing. Yes I was happy at my last session because that was my mood. you never catch me in a sad, numb or depressed mood. regretfully I just started seeing you, but none-the-less you should not judge my “better-ness” souly on the fact that you saw me smile and that I talked to you.

You forget that I am smart. You must remember that the reason I tried committed suicide is because I am a believer in the philosopher Kierkegaard’s Existential Angst. Only because I have been told “It’s going to get better” so many damn times with no results and people always tell me they are there for me when no one is there when I need them most. Where were they the night I tried contacting them when I tried committing suicide? It’s not like I didn’t ask for a way out, I did. “Think positive” They say. “we’re here if you need us” they say.  OF COURSE I FUCKING NEED YOU! ! ! ! thats why I FUCKING CALLED YOU!  

BUT THE WORSE THING OF ALL! IS the worst fact that for the rest of my fucking miserable life I have to live with this. “You will get stronger” they say. Well you know what?!?!? I DONT WANT TO GET STRONGER! I want it to go away! I just want it go away…

I bet you think I’m crying. I’m not. I’ve lived with this long enough that I’m not crying and I’m not even a bit sad. However I do want to go cut my wrists until they fill the tub with my blood… but alas I am with my husband and I shall take my meds like a good girl and I shall not. Because I am going to “get stronger” as they say. SIGH!

Detachment

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I feel so though I am not myself. I ask myself how I got here, who I am and how did I get this old with out me knowing? Why don’t I have my degree? Why don’t I have a career like the people I graduated with? then memories flood into my mind, drowning all my senses and I go numb. My heart stops beating my lungs stops breathing and I watch as these horrific memories spread through my mind and tell me the story of my past and answer these questions I so often find myself questioning. THe numbing pictures and feelings stop my blood from flowing and my mind from thinking. I just watch; from childhood to adulthood. Here I am. This is why. Now stop bothering me She says. I want to curl up and sleep for days, but I only manage hours.

I read and research when I get the energy of these disease they call BPD. When I don’t have the energy I find my stabbing emotional distress ripping and pulling me in different directions I don’t know which way to go, I don’t know which way to go. So I sit and stare at nothing, at everything. I play with paranoia. I dance with disturbing thoughts.

I manage to watch a movie from time to time. Read. Knit when I find the time. Then when my husband comes home we can finally go for a walk. The highlight of my day. Going for a walk with him and the dogs is my reflection and my jailbreak. It’s like getting pulled out of the cave of darkness into a newer light. Soon I will be able to do this on my own. I just have to stay positive. Chin up! Right? sigh. I feel like IDK anymore.