I just can’t seem to get it together lately. I feel chaotic and not in control of my days. I look up at the clock, and before I know it, it will be one o’clock in the afternoon. What have I been doing? What have I accomplished?
Things have been different around here since the first of the year. One of my daughters, her husband, 4-year-old son, three dogs and a cat moved in temporarily. I am fortunate that I have the space, and they were able to use a very large room as their “temporary home”. This has definitely changed some things up for me, but I do not think this is the cause of me feeling out of control. It isn’t like we are cramped, or in anyone’s way. I sometimes forget they are even here. Well, until one of the dang dogs goes to barking non-stop. Then my dogs get antsy, and that does drive me a bit nuts.
I seem to have lost my balance, and the structure I followed daily to keep me focused. I still manage to get the laundry done, the floors clean, cook and clean the kitchen, etc. But I am missing something, and I cannot put my finger on it. I feel like I am losing time, that I cannot account for. I feel like I used to do something, and I don’t remember what it is.
I paint and do other crafts to distract myself from my thoughts. I really lose sense of time when I am doing this. I can repaint the same item over and over, never liking the outcome. If you have BPD, you know all too well how you can obsess over the tiniest thing. I obsess over something until I have made myself crazy – crazier than I already am.
I try to keep busy, from the moment I wake, until I go to bed. I do not watch television. I love(d) to read, but I haven’t in a while. I downloaded several books on my tablet months ago. I still haven’t felt the sense of ease to be able to sit down and read. I listen to music. Music speaks to me. Music has been a source of comfort (and pain) for me. Music helps me identify my feelings, and helps me with thoughts that I am unable to speak out loud. It also allows me a place to escape mentally.
I have only recently started to blog, and I enjoy reading other people’s blogs very much. I identify with so many of them. When I read blogs from people I follow, I feel I am at a place that is comforting. I have found a place I fit, and where I can be myself. I don’t have to pretend, or try to impress anyone. I am actually very surprised to see so many people who are like me. The word “darkness” is what I call it when I go into one of my fits. I realized that word is used by many people to describe themselves as well.
Darkness is a place that can be scary, yet I am known there. I have become friends, of sort, with the darkness. I think I sometimes miss the darkness, and need to go visit, if I haven’t been there in a while. Darkness is something I know all too well. I feel welcome there, and although it is not a good place, it feels like home. At first it is like putting on my favorite fuzzy robe, and being wrapped up in the warmth . But then, it takes a hold of me, and keeps me as it’s prisoner until it decides it is done with me. When the darkness decides to let its grip of me go, I am left completely exhausted. I am physically and emotionally bankrupt, and it takes days to recover.
I have a sense of dread that has been washing over me lately. I don’t know what I am dreading, if anything at all. I will get a sudden heavy chest, and my anxiety will peak. I have no idea why. But, what I have noticed, is that it usually happens around the same time each day. Typically between 3 or 4 o’clock in the afternoon, I will start to feel a bit of panic. I have yet to be able to identify the source of this.
I try to guide my thoughts to a certain area, and I just get scattered. Everything runs together, and nothing makes sense. I lose any focus. What was it I was supposed to be doing? What was I planning to do? Where is my coffee? My brain is full of chaos and noise. I think that is one of the feelings I hate most. Chaotic thoughts that I cannot control, like a lighted ticker-tape sign running across my forehead.
I suspect I am looking for a place that does not exist. I am searching for a sense of peace that is not to be. I don’t know if I will ever know peace again. I think being cursed with BPD strips you from any peace you ever had, and robs you from feeling at ease. I am constantly on high-alert, waiting for the darkness to come.