Early Morning Thoughts

I feel dead inside. Like someone shot and killed me. And someone has done that, in a way. Words like bullets through my heart. I long for quiet and peaceful days. I wish to be left alone. People are too much. I’m so hurt. So unbelievably sad.

After it happened, after feeling down, shocked and, confused, something changed in me. My intuition tells me that this change is both good and bad. It’s good because it will make me stronger and wiser. And bad because I am now officially terrified of people, even more than I was before. I trust people even less. I just want to be alone. If I could sleep all day, I would. It’s so shocking to me when I come face to face with evil. When you realize that someone isn’t fundamentally good. You find out that they are bad, callous, low in empathy and they just play a nice character, from time to time. I don’t want to be in contact with people like that. Our values are too different. I don’t claim to be an angel but, at least, I do as little harm as I can to others. I harm myself more with my self-destructive behaviors than I do others. I am careful about what I say. It’s something that I learned with my mother. She is very thoughtful and kind. I don’t like to hurt people. It makes me feel bad. When I was younger and my BPD was acting up and a real mess, I could be vindictive and cruel. Being hurt was so painful that I acted out. I was always overwhelmed and in emotional pain. People that knew me 10 or 15 years ago probably have an image of me that doesn’t correspond to my current self. That’s okay but even people with BPD, contrary to popular belief, can change and become better humans.

It just annoys me a lot that I disregarded all the red flags. They exist for a reason. I just kept going while I sipped dumb bitch juice.

It’s been two days and I’m still so mad. This has brought out the worst in me. Thinking about revenge almost for a day. I won’t do anything, of course. It’s not in my nature to get back at people or retaliate.

I think that being invalidated like that took a toll on me. I feel so vulnerable. I know he was wrong but I can’t help but feel misunderstood and ashamed. It’s baffling how people tell you that they are your friends and end up hurting you like they were enemies. It only makes me pity those individuals. I understand that they, too, were hurt and that’s why they act that way. I believe people are mostly shaped by their experiences. What values they were taught, etc. I think you need to be pretty disturbed to hurt people who never hurt you before. Being cruel for the sake of being cruel, in a gratuitous way is so odd to me.

I feel like writing poetry, so I will wrap up this post. I hope everyone has a good day. Take care.

Image by Couleur, courtesy of Pixabay.

Poem: Liquid Painful Feelings

The rain falls

But it’s not really rain

It’s tears

And not really tears

but pain

liquid painful feelings

that we secrete

they’re gone now

Tears meant to be cried

Never taste so sour

and so sweet

When tears have no meaning

When they roll down your face

And you don’t know why

There is a story waiting to be told

Sometimes

A single tear falls down my face

I ask her

“What happened?”

She never knows what to say

“Nothing”– she says

“They just told me to go and I did”

I carry on

Clean my face and I forget about her existence

Some fluid that forgot time and place

Or did she? Does she know of pain that I do not know?

That my brain has suppressed and blocked.

Maybe. And maybe my brain needs to make me cry for no apparent reason

From time to time

When I’m unbalanced

Being unbalanced is a reason

But why does it happen when I’m not?

When the breeze is cool and the sun is hot

What memory came up that I cannot see?

What is my brain hiding from me?

The sour taste of rejection

Yesterday, a friend of mine rejected me. He said he grew tired of me.

I cried a lot and had a meltdown. I switch to irrational mode when people abandon me. I felt an intense psychological pain. What helped was talking about it with my friends. They were very understanding and provided great points of view.

I felt relieved and more stable. I’m learning to accept that some people will leave my life and that’s fine. I leave people’s lives, too. For self-preservation. It’s just that disappointments always hits me like a rock.

What hurts me the most is when people are cold to me. My friend was extremely cold to me, talked about our friendship like it was a business, no feelings involved. It hurts but, this way is easier to overcome, as I come to the conclusion that I never really knew him.

Yesterday, when we started to argue I had a feeling that a falling out would occur. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t avoid abandonment. I faced it and I’m proud of that.

Life goes on, you lose people and meet people. You grow cold and distant to some people but also warmer and closer to other people.

It was important for me to meet him, he taught me a lot of things and I really enjoyed his company. I hope he accomplishes everything that he wants. I wish him the best.

Image by StockSnap, courtesy of Pixabay.

Why I write when I’m feeling down

I don’t like to write when I’m upset but I need to. My writing becomes dark and sad.

I feel all emotions at once. I’m overwhelmed by uncomfortable feelings. Despair, sadness, hopelessness, frustration wash over me.

Feelings are like waves, they come and go. I allow myself to feel and accept them. They will be gone soon.

I want to write beautiful things and inspire people but I can’t inspire anyone when I’m feeling down and uninspired. I can see that’s not the point, either. Maybe what I write can make people, who are also down, feel less lonely and less misunderstood.

Venting helps and writing it down is a great way to feel better. At least I expressed my feelings of discomfort. At least I made an effort to write, despite all the negative feelings.

When I’m down and I write, there’s a voice in my head telling me that I’m a terrible writer and that no one will want to read what I write. I feel no pleasure writing but I feel relieved, so I do it.

I recommend writing as a form of therapy, especially when you’re down. Writing helps you to rationalize your feelings and think more clearly.

My motto used to be “to write until it stops to hurt” (escrever até parar de doer). I will write until it stops hurting and beyond that.

Image by raedon, courtesy of Pixabay.

Making sense of things

Good morning, dear reader. I made a post about how I was bullied. Now, I would like to talk about how that influenced me.

I never felt like I belong in that group, I was completely invalidated by them.

I think that has shaped me. All throughout my life I’ve been rejected by people, mostly friends. I only started to feel like I belonged in a group when I was in 8th grade but my best friend at the time, Sandra, ended up rejecting me because of a boy. It was in high school that I really felt I belonged. My friends loved me and really cared. I started to heal from my childhood trauma and I trusted them with my life. Then my life started falling apart, I started becoming another person. Someone who was unstable, unreliable. They started to pull away. I only started to notice towards the end of our friendship. I noticed that they started to invite me to hang out less and less. Once, I met one of my close friends and told her that I would like to hang out with the group more. She said okay but a few days later and no calls from her or them, I went to the coffee shop where we used to hang out and saw them there. It started to hit me but I couldn’t really see it. It hurt too much.

The breaking point came in a sunny afternoon in June. My friend who lived in Spain came home for the holidays and she invited me to have coffee with a few other friends because it was her birthday. One of the people that were there was Sandra. She had become friends with my friends and she still hated my guts.

People started giving her gifts and one of the gifts was a ticket for a concert. They all had tickets for the concert and it was sold out. So I left. I was heartbroken. How could they forget about me? I messaged one of my friends and she didn’t reply. I, then, talked to another friend on facebook and she told me that it wasn’t planned. When I replied, she didn’t answer. I felt enraged, bitter and out of control. I blocked all of them on social media.

I was devastated and overwhelmed by negative thoughts. It was like I had fallen into a bottomless pit, I just felt like I was continually being sucked into a hole. I started digging the hole myself, smoking more and more hash. In the morning, I would wake up crying when I realized I was no longer friends with them.

I became a shut-in. I had major depression along with BPD ( borderline personality disorder). I became scared of living and paranoid. I had a psychotic episode that year, following that situation. What kept me from being committed was my boyfriend. He knew how much I had suffered in psych wards, so he told my parents he would take care of me and he did. He was wonderful, he would try to reason with me in a loving and compassionate way. He would make me feel understood, loved and almost “normal”. He is part of my healing process, a big part. It is my first stable relationship and the first man that really respects me. I can never thank him enough for what he has done for me.

Thank you for reading this.

Image by Anemone123, courtesy of Pixabay.