After my last blog post, I was overwhelmed by everyone who commented and messaged me. To all of you who did, thank you so much. You may think that I get messages like that often, but it’s actually quite rare. Anytime someone lets me know that they’re a regular reader, it leaves me flabbergasted. It always surprises me that what I have to say is important to someone out there. You guys made me feel incredibly supported. The whole experience of writing that post was a healing process for me. Unfortunately, along with healing, comes pain. I know that this is the good kind of pain, the good kind of sadness, but nonetheless sadness.
When I woke up on Monday, I could hardly breathe. There was an enormous pressure in my chest, strangling my lungs from the inside. I didn’t want to leave my bed to start the day — I wanted to disappear into a cave, cease to exist. I hurt for myself, for the girl who suffered so much. I hurt for my friend, who told me that he, too, had BPD. I hurt for all the people I’d let down. In the nightmare that caught me just before dawn, I was talking to my ex. I don’t remember what we said to each other, because it doesn’t matter. All of a sudden, I found myself face-to-face with his mother. She was faceless, because I’ve never met her. But she was real to me then, and so was her agony. She was screaming at me to leave her son alone, sobbing hysterically in the way that parents do when they’re completely helpless to save their children. She looked at me as if I was his murderer and he didn’t speak. His silence was an indictment.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. I’ve never given the arbitrary holiday much thought — I couldn’t tell you what I did last year or the year before that. This year, though, I’m thinking about love. More specifically, I’m thinking about my ability to love. Although the commercialized aspect of Valentine’s Day is annoying, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with taking the time to reflect on your love life. If you’re single, are you happy? If you’re in a relationship, are you happy? Though people commonly assume that relationships make people happier, it’s not necessarily true. Those who are coupled up often have the same number of, if not more, issues.
Am I capable of love? Yes, I have loved before. I’ve loved fiercely and loyally. I’ve loved so much that I hated myself for what I was doing to the person I loved. I’ve loved so much that I wished I could love just a bit more so that I wouldn’t have to leave. I’ve loved so much that I couldn’t leave. I’ve loved so much that I did leave. But what is wrong with my love that it makes the people I love suffer? What is wrong with my love that I always end up leaving? What is wrong with my love that I have never given someone the power to break my heart?
I know what is wrong — deep down, I believe that I am unloveable. This pervasive thought clouds all of my relationships. If I do believe that someone truly loves me, then I cannot love them because anyone respectable would not love me. If I do not believe that someone truly loves me, then I cannot love them because I am terrified of being abandoned by someone I love.
This Valentine’s Day, I feel broken. I feel lacking. I feel scared. I feel like I’m living a lie — if Hans knew me as I actually am, as I’ve been, he would never love me. The thought makes me want to run. It leaves me grasping for reasons not to love. It makes it impossible for me to believe that he cares, despite all the evidence for the contrary. It confuses the hell out of me. When I feel that he is distant, is that his being emotionally unavailable or is that me misinterpreting everything because on some twisted level I am looking for confirmation that I. Am. Not. Loved?
Does it make me brave or stupid to be in a relationship when I’m like this? I don’t know, but I do know that I’m fighting with everything I have. What about you? Do you have this love thing down pat? What do you find most difficult about love?