Sunday it didn’t start out as a good day. Things went awfully wrong in our bed first thing in the morning. I had felt restless, lacking in sex and instead of being honest with my feelings & emotions (like I do normally). I just wanted an excuse to act out.
Suffering from BPD can be easy to manage if one knows their triggers, keep aware of what’s going on the inside of them. I haven’t had any outlet to release the tension build-up. Lemme try to explain it this way – it’s like a little kid with lots of emotional energy who needs to burn that off. I don’t always use constructive ways to burn off my emotional energy.
This Sunday is a perfect example of unstable relationships, risky behaviors, substances. I made a conscious decision to ruin the day. A decision that would cost me everything that I worked for. I planned it out in my head, but at some point it spiraled out of control. Out of my control. I have never gotten myself into a position of being total vulnerable. Where I was stuck in a place that I didn’t want to be. But this time I really let myself down. I let my Beloved down and that hurt more than any amount of self-inflicted pain. Because he trusted me. He has faith in me when I don’t have any in myself.
When I stormed out of the house I broke the first rule. Never leave the house angry or upset, because bad things happen. I will make decisions based on my emotions instead of educated well-balanced decisions. I had seen his motorcycle at the pool hall. I text him.
I see you. Fuck I’m jealous of you!!
Don’t be babe. Come thru. I got you. (He knew that I am currently unemployed)
Why not??? I’ll buy ya a drink
K. I’ll be there in 5
Normally when I text him. It ends quickly, because we usually have other stuff going on. I arrived there and there was just a few of us there. He ordered a drink for me. Vodka & cranberry. I don’t drink those anymore, because vodka gives me a hangover. I switched to rum a while back. But he wanted me to drink heavy, with him like the old days. The second drink was more than half full of vodka. So strong that even he didn’t want it. He passes it to me, as if to say “catch up to me.” It was only noon. He was already buzzed. I walked out on breakfast due to my anger getting the best of me.
I am always the “bad girl” with I’m hanging with him. He or I always tell others we are really the same person only with different body parts, get us together and it’s extremely dangerous for everyone involved. We teased people, we talked to each other about what was going on in our lives. He said something to me that shocked me. It was something that my Manchild told me that my mother told him, in return he told me. People like us, shouldn’t be married. We can’t function in the normal relationship lines. We are too selfish, self-destructive and we always end up hurting others. We talked heart to heart about him & his ex he wants the fun, but not the drama she brings. We talked about the us, how we have our moments. We get mad at each other, avoid each other but there is something about being with each other. I told him I only wanted to be a part of his life, for him to trust me. I didn’t want deep inside his life, just to be able to experience some of it. Being able to hung out with him from time to time, but he always wanted me to himself. At times he didn’t want to intermingle his friends. Being drunk, always helps people say things they would never say at other times. He kept telling me “I trust you with my life, honey I really do.” I laughed. No. No ya don’t.
Drinking my second drink and here comes the shot of Rumplemintz. Liquid fire. I took me hours to finish that drink. Third drink of Barcardi & Dr Pepper. YUK. A drink I won’t drink again, but it was bought for me. Lost track of time. Laughing and having a great time. Then his ex walks into the place. Really?! The insults start flying. Tension is thick & high. He says “babe, I don’t think you can hold your own against her. You’re not as bad ass as you used to be, you been out of it so long.” Ah, that cut me emotionally. I’m not as young, not as hardcore as when I was a street kid. Oh. But that’s not what I wanted, was it? I was always thankful that I had found my Beloved and that I was living that life I always thought I wanted. But a part of me still wanted to be that street kid, for those few hours I was.
He looked at me, “hey I need to stop out and pick up some stuff. I’ll be back, k?” I wanted to ride with him. I wanted to go. I wanted to be in that life, once again. Thrilling, fast and hard. He suddenly changed his mind, I drove. Second bad decision. I had an idea of where I was going, been there before. I’m not allowed inside to see that world, the line is drawn there. I know what it looks like behind the closed-door, so I really didn’t need to know anymore. Back to the bar, where “little men” was waiting outside for our arrival. I was told to split it up, deliver the rest and keep the leftover. Whaaa?! I flashed back to my early 20’s. I remembered the 80’s, the decade of decadence. Third bad decision having “little man” in my car. I just don’t like strangers in my car, but where else was business gonna be completed.
I went back into the bar. I don’t remember the time. I don’t remember what else I had to drink. I know that his ex was acting a fool. Everyone in the place was complaining about her ability to make a sailor blush. She eventually left, I think. He said “wanna hit **** place?” I smiled. We were headed to the ‘hood. Of course, I wasn’t ready to go home. I wanted my point to get across to my Beloved. To hurt him like he hurt me, to make that cut deep & painful. Why? Because being BP that’s what we do. It’s not excuse, it happens so fast that the person is unable to change the behavior. However, I was making a conscious decision. The emotion of anger wasn’t as strong, I was looking for an excuse. I was looking for something to fill that hole of pain, instead of talking to my beloved. Fourth Bad decision was getting on the back of his bike. I have strict rules about riding with others. There is an unspoken rule about being on the back of another men’s bike. Riding with someone who is under the influence. Going to another place without my car, without a way out. No money, no purse and my iphone died. What?! It’s dead. It’s never dead, because I am an iphone slut.
We rode fast into the ‘hood. I hung on like my life depended on it, which it did. He weaved through traffic. I felt my PTS kick into high gear. He laughed, leaned back at me “you’re having a problem because you’re not in control. Ya always have to be in control, huh? Being back there ya ain’t huh?!” We arrived at the other bar, he almost missed the parking lot. I don’t remember much for a few seconds. He walked in first. I followed and got the looks, in some places in the ‘hood I don’t always get a warm welcome. Walking in with him, was a double bad whammy for me. I was yelled at “why didn’t you take him home?! Where’s Smokestack? Is she coming to get him? Why are you with him? If you cared about him at all you would have not bought him here. You would have taken him home.” He had ordered me vodka & lemonade. He jumped into the conversation, a verbal argument followed. I should have left, but I stayed. Not sure if that was a mistake or not. I couldn’t leave him there, he still had to get home. Hours flew by. I lost track of time, it was dark out when he wanted to leave. We had more to drink, some man tried to pick me up while I was sitting there. I suggested we walk home, he flipped out. I ain’t leaving my bike here! NOW GET ON!
He dropped it before I got on it, pulled it out of the spot, that fucker is heavy to pick up. Thank goodness it has crash bars and those flat foot boards. Fifth Bad Decision was getting on the back of that bike to ride home with him. Sixth Bad Decision was going home with him. I don’t remember how we got to his place, but I remember him dropping it again twice. Stumbling into his place, I won’t go into detail about what happened there. I can pass a polygraph! He passed out on his bed. I tried to sleep on the sofa. While I was lying there praying to a God I no longer believe in, that I hope I have ruined what I have at home. In the entire time I was gone, I received no texts from my Beloved. There were no phone calls. My phone had died early in the evening & I was stuck without a way home. I won’t go in the details of how the rest of the evening ended. That’s for another time.
Emotions … acting without the benefit of intellect.
Let this serve as a warning to those who suffer with BPD that there are choices to be made. We know at the time what we are doing most of the time. We just need to really stop to think first. Try to breath through the emotional trigger, before acting on the anger, hurt or emotional emptiness. We have to learn of a positive way to burn off the emotional stress/tension. This could have ended far worse than it did. I’m thankful it didn’t. I will return to “using my words.” Just try remember to think it all through first, before acting out.
I enjoy being some men’s fantasy. I know it’s time like this when my “fans/admirers” read this and think “Holy Shit. What a hot mess!” My Beloved always told me “They are in love with the idea of being in love or having you, but if those men had to deal with you 27/7 most couldn’t.” True. Some men would have walked away, being unable to understand all of this or even accept this behavior. I will understand if some of my readers are disappointed or even stop following. This isn’t for everyone. I am merely sharing for those that have some idea, those that can relate to these bad decisions that were due to emotional dysregulation. More important Do Not make the same mistakes I’ve made.