There’s A Stranger In Me

I’ve lost myself in everyone else but me. My own soul doesn’t live here, it hasn’t for some time. It’s sad and it’s frustrating… I feel empty constantly. As someone with Borderline Personality Disorder, I struggle with these two things: unstable sense of self, and chronic feelings of emptiness.

My therapist tells me I need to start being curious with what’s happening within myself. I pay too much attention to everyone else, because honestly I’m just so boring. I have nothing to offer, so I vicariously live through others. Even when I people-watch, I look at the individuals and wonder what they’re like. I wonder if they’d make a good partner, or if they can make a perfect steak, or if they’re hiding some pain like I am.

It’s difficult to focus on myself. I have issues writing about ME, as a person. There’s no core to me, I’m just pieces of everything I’ve been in contact with that has stuck to me. I don’t really know who I am. I clam up when people ask about my interests, or positive qualities about myself; I honestly don’t know how to answer those questions. I draw a blank. I guess I don’t feel important enough so I don’t think about it much. It mostly just stays inside my own head. I feel selfish talking about myself, I’d rather listen. Friends and some family even tell me I’d make a great therapist because I know how to listen to peoples issues without judgement.

I’m always thinking of other peoples’ lives and opinions. I know it’s not healthy, but I just can’t help myself. I care about what people think sometimes. It’s on/off. I suck at making decisions. I feel like a redundant person. See? Even this post is so negative towards myself. I don’t feel like talking about the positive qualities, I just don’t see them. People seem to find me interesting sometimes, but I feel hollow inside.

I’ve been so fixated on people in the past, particularly K. I hate myself for even feeling and thinking about him, as I’ve already mentioned it before. But today in therapy, he was compared to a drug, specifically heroin. Now, I’ve never done the drug and I don’t even plan on trying it, but it made sense. He was my drug… He made me feel high, and I kept chasing that high; he’d lift me up until he dropped me. The lows would bash me into the ground. Then I was left feeling like shit, so defeated and dead… Until the next dose of love and happiness. The cycle continued, and I couldn’t break it. I just kept chasing the way he made me feel when we were getting along.

I told my therapist if magic lamps existed, I’d wish that K and I could start all over again without his anger inside of him. We’d be perfect. I’d always feel good. And that’s where the problem is: My mood has always depended on my significant other. It happened with my first boyfriend too… Another Borderline trait.

I realize relationships trigger me the most. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to love someone. I learned a lot from both relationships, they taught me more about myself. I guess that’s something to be proud of. It doesn’t stop me from missing them and wishing things could’ve been different.

But I have to learn to find solace within myself, not just a lover. This is a hard task to do, but I’ve done it for a year now. It’s the longest I’ve been single since my first boyfriend. I know when the next person comes along, I’ll be ready. I’m sure of it.

Intertwining my soul with another has always meant so much to me, it’s scary and I hope I don’t fail next time I give my all to that individual. I can’t blame myself for how it ended with K. I know I made the right decision but sometimes I just want to call him and tell him this was all a mistake. But if we were to come together again, I’d still be so skeptical of his trust. He’s broken it time and time again, how could I believe he’s a changed man?

There I go, talking about someone else. This is difficult.

There’s someone in this shell that is me. She’s cracked, burned and frayed, but there’s a glimmer of hope. I’m holding onto that hope. Even when the tears drown me at night, I still hold on for better days.

I’m afraid and confused, but all I can do is continue breathing.



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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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