Bottling things up
I’m so tired of bottling things up. Of putting up and shutting up. There is so much I want to say and the truth is I don’t know where to start, or whether or not it’s worth starting, when all it’s likely to do is finish off burning, the already burnt bridges.
I said in my last post how tired I was of one-way friendships, we agreed on Twitter that it was time I made new friends well perhaps that is true. If that’s the case though, why is it so hard to let go? Why am I reminded of the good times we shared and left wondering ‘what if?’.
I blame myself, for pressing the self-destruct button on my life and pushing away the people I cared about. Now they’re pushing me away and while I’m at this vulnerable point in my life, it really hurts.
Sometimes women in their twenties and thirties still behave like Mean Girls. There is still so much ignorance about mental illness and hospitalisation, even from those with mental illness themselves.
Then when I think to myself that at least, whatever I’ve lost, I’ve always got my partner, he starts to push me away, which leads me to feel extremely insecure. He may be in prison but usually it feels like he’s the only one I can count on. Since my financial problems though, things have changed. At first he was really supportive, a huge encouragement. Now though it feels like he has forgotten what we’ve both been fighting so hard to achieve.
I am becoming more and more reliant on Lorazepam and sleep as a way of getting through this awful period. As a matter of fact, I can hardly keep my eyes open now, so I’m off to hibernate for a little while. Hopefully I will make more sense when I return.
The hardest thing…
One of the hardest things about having a mental illness is losing friends. I never really know whether to take it personally or whether it is as a result of my diagnosis and symptoms. All I do know is that as an impact of my conditions (Borderline personality disorder/possible Bipolar), I find it harder to make and maintain friendships than the average person seems to.
Firstly, I’m unpredictable. One minute I’m happy-go-lucky, impulsive and sociable, the next minute I’m isolating myself, paranoid and hostile. I can understand why people would struggle to have patience with that, but it hurts when people promise that they will stick by me then let me down for more ‘fun’ friends.
I was in a psychiatric hospital for about four months. The majority of ‘friends’ were either afraid or unwilling to visit me during that time, especially after the initial week or two. It hurt to watch other patients with their visitors, the lift it usually gave their mood, as my ‘friends’ distanced themselves, even when I was on day leave from hospital.
Perhaps they were worried about what sort of state they would find me in, how traumatic it would be for them to experience.
When it suits them
Then I got out of hospital and, apart from the occasional invite out, when it suits them to have me around -events they are going to anyway, etc, I haven’t heard from them.
Whenever I need their help and advice I’m either ignored, given a bunch of excuses and the knowledge that they have better things to do with their lives than deal with me.
I’m trying to move forward with life after hospital, but alone, it is so much harder. I have no-one to call and share with when good things happen, and no-one to turn to when I need a shoulder to cry on.
Without the support I get from readers of this blog and the Twitter community, I would probably have given up by now. So thank you, to my virtual friends.