I managed to think myself into an epic knot today. Why? I discovered that Therapist and I have an acquaintance in common. Hardly a shocker, Galway is a small town and a job of a few years back (ironically enough in a counselling service) made it almost unavoidable, but I could so do without it. Therapist issues are huge with bpd, huge, and I’m no exception. I’ve written about it so many times at this stage you could probably write this post for me. Apologies for sounding like a broken record but this is what goes on in my head, and so this is what I have to get out of my head. Feel free to skip to the end.
Anyway, what was the result of this little discovery? Tail spin of pretty phenomenal proportions. Once more the fact that I am not, and more importantly, can not, be a part of Therapist’s life was brought into stark focus. As always, I get this on a rational level. But on an emotional level there was so much going on that I’m not sure I can even attempt to narrow it down to a few adjectives. I’ll try. Bear with me because for any non bpd folk reading this, it will sound completely insane. Possibly for bpd folk as well, but I hope (for my sake if not yours) that you get where I’m coming from and that I’m not completely alone in this.
- betrayed, by both of them: how can they be friends and exclude me?
- of our mutual acquaintance, insane jealousy that she gets to know the person behind the Therapist mask and an overwhelming need to quiz her. I didn’t. I hope I don’t.
- of Therapist, anger for being friends with this person in the first place
- of myself, pure and utter disgust for thinking any of the above. IT MAKES NO SENSE. It makes me feel like shit. And yet I am pretty much powerless to stop it.
So what was the next ‘logical’ step in my triggered thought process? Cut them both off. Yup, that’ll fix everything. Except the problem is that I can’t. I’m due back with Therapist next week, we’ll have had a break of four weeks. In the interim, I’ve mailed her in desperation, I’ve pootled about on facebook
, and have thought endlessly about conversations I would like to have with her. I feel like a complete and utter nutjob, and I really don’t say that lightly. I know that it’s pretty much classic bpd
, but I don’t care. She is the one person I really, really need to talk to about this, and yet she is also the last person I want to talk to about it, because I quite literally cannot begin to describe how ashamed it makes me feel. I know that she knows it’s not personal, but I can’t make myself believe that it’s not personal. It’s such a fragile relationship, and so much is based on trust, but sometimes it’s incredibly difficult to continue to trust that she actually does understand this, and that I’m not freaking her out. Right now, I don’t believe it. Added to this is the fact that the longer we break for, the worse this thought process gets, the angrier I become, and the more time I spend thinking that I don’t need her/won’t go back/fume at myself because I know I inevitably will. I can’t manage without her, not long term. That scares the shit out of me.
There is however, one good point in all of this. I talked about it with Hubby. I didn’t wait 3 days, hold him at arms length, persist in telling him I was fine or start a fight to avoid the conversation. A year ago I would have done all of these, and probably more. We talked about it. He tried to understand, although luckily for him he doesn’t fully get it. He made space for me to do what I needed to do today to try and make myself feel better, despite the fact that he ended up spending the day doing the exact opposite of what he had planned. For all of that, I am incredibly grateful.
Will I go see Therapist next week? I really don’t want to. And I really want to. I think we all know how this one will end.