Blegh.

Winter is finally arriving. Snow storm overnight and I have to drive out of town for therapy tomorrow.

Trying to work up the motivation to do another crazy bpd exercise :/

At the moment though, ice taken a bit of a break from it, and I'm reading Dr Phil's 20/20. Anyone tried it? I've seen some pretty dismal reviews on it (which of course, I didn't think to read BEFORE spending like 30 big ones on the book). 

Also, has anyone heard from Rayya??

My Genes

...and Me.

The dance would be violent... Dramatic.. Lots of pulling and tearing and shaking... That would be my mother being raped. And then a baby, being torn, and her fighting to keep it.. The music would be loud and dramatic, but there would be no voices.. No singing.. Just silence.. There would be masked figures.. On one side of the room.. Lots of unknowns.. People hiding in the shadows.. On the other side of the room. Family.. Hiding and "protecting" the baby.. Me.. The baby would be loved.. Then there would be a wedding and the baby would get a daddy.. And there would be singing and happy dances.. And then several brothers would be born for the baby to play with, lots of blue and the baby would grow and the brothers would grow and they would play.. And sing and dances some more happy dances.. The daddy would get really happy.. And he would play with the neighbourhood children and make them laugh along with his children.. The purple cloudy smoke would make him so happy.. The music would be bright and happy and crazy, like an acid trip.. But then the daddy would get sad and mad and angry and sick.. And the music would turn dark and the cloud would turn black.. And a dark shadow would be cast over the family.. And the neighbourhood children would run away from the funny man who made them laugh.. But the children would be stuck.. They would be given lots of toys and gifts to keep them happy, as men and women would come and go from their house, and dance away with little packages of their own purple and pink and green hazy smoke clouds.. But they would come back and bring dark black and brown and grey smoke clouds with them and leave them in the house with the children.. This dance routine continues, it gets old and boring and the baby.. Now a girl.. Would twirl around the young brothers, along with her mother, while the daddy spins like crazy, in another room, and then again, crawl around on the floor in agony and then rolls around in his hazy smoke and comes up dancing again.. The dance would go on like this for years.. Until the mummy spins off into the other room with the daddy and twirls and jumps and bounds around in her own cloud of pretty pink smoke.. And the girl twirls around her brothers alone, like a big girl.. And then, when she was old enough, she would join the happy, crazy, sad, mad and angry dance... Spinning off into that crazy room with her mummy and daddy.. Leaving the brothers to twirl alone.. And they became mean and nasty.. Until one day she would dance off by herself, spiralling out of control, and curling up alone with a family of her own to pass the hazy smoke dance on to.. Only, she was determined that she would change the inheritance.. And choreograph a dance of her own for them, a really happy dance, leaving the fake happy smoke behind for good. 

...hmm, so I've no idea what that was, but that's how the "dance" looks in my head. 

After writing this, I think I focused of raising more than genetics. I learned what I lived, but I hope to change it. 

I hope to break free of the negative influences on my life, but I don't know if I can.. I think that I attempted to, when I left England, but I just ran from my problems, I didnt solve them.. Now, I must solve them. This is the first step in truly breaking free. 

The Angry Heart...

...so, I'm reading The Angry Heart. I've decided to put my "recovery" exercises into my blog. I'm not very good at handwriting and this'll be a 'safe' place to put all my ramblings. Get it all out, so that it can no longer eat me from the inside out.. 

...The Angry Heart, is a self help book, to overcome borderline and addictive disorders. Later, I'll type up my "Beginnings" exercise here. I'm going to start the next exercise in a new post.

Anybody...

...out there?

Good enough to foster...

...but not to adopt?

   So, I'm fostering this little beauty, I've named her Luna.

   I'll be honest, lately she has given me a reason to get up in the mornings. Someone to need me. Someone who is happy to see me each morning and greets me with a grateful wag and a loving nuzzle.. Even when she wakes me at some ungodly hour, and I tromp down the stairs all grumpy like, I see her eyes light up and my heart melts.

   I was told that fosters are given first pick to adopt. That you have 2 weeks to decide. This is what I was told when I asked after 2 days of her being here. And when I told them that i had come up with the adoption fees, they told me that I couldn't have her!?! Why? Because I live in an apartment building? 1. I do NOT live in an apartment building. I live in a condo. And while, yes, it has the look of a building on the outside, and it is a secure building by technicality, we have our own entrance/exit, in the form of double french doors. We have a yard, not fenced, but an electric fence could easily be installed. We have 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms and two living rooms, our place is NOT too small for a large dog. And 2. I asked to be reimbursed for supplies, because hey, it's Christmas! And I said money is tight at the moment, but that doesn't mean that I can't afford her, I have a right to be frugal at Xmas and that doesn't mean you get the right to judge my financial situation! I can't afford to be spending money on fosters. Saying that, I bought her 3 coats because she has kennel cough and shivers mercilessly whilst outside, I did not expect to be reimbursed for those and I even said I'd cover the expense of the leashes and collars I bought her. 

   I'm beyond offended and actually quite humiliated right now. We are in a group chat on FB and they told me in front of eerypje that I couldn't keep her, after letting me bang on about it for 2 damn days, KNOWING that they weren't going to let me keep her. 

   Rescued are becoming way to anal about adopters. I filled out the same application to foster as they have to adopt. So what gives here??

   She is just the perfect fit for me and I don't know how in going to let her go. She's so damn smart. She's 11 weeks and in just a few days ive taught her to sit, she sits when I feed her and waits for eye contact and for me to say, "ok" before eating. She knows the difference between "go pee" and "go poo", and while she still has a few accidents in the house, she's learning to ask for the door. She's an awesome travel companion, just lays on the sea, or with her head on my leg, or looking out of the window. She loves driving..  and I travel a lot, I've been looking for a good travel dog.

   She warms my heart. And that hasn't happened in a long, long time. My heart is in fact quite cold, these days. 

   I'm starting to think irrationally.. Trying to find info on what would happen if I just kept her. Would they be able to call the police? It would take them so long to repossess her that I don't think they bother?? And I mean, I'm willing to PAY the fees for crying out loud.

   I'm just so lonely and she alleviates my loneliness. I don't think that this just a first foster fail. I don't think I'll feel this way about every puppy that comes through here. My dad bred pups and I'm used to seeing them come and go, I've just never had this kind of connection before.. I don't think I'll find it again :(

I just want to love my little Luna.

I feel like they're playing god... I understand concern, but they are too damn picky...

http://www.slate.com/articles/life/heavy_petting/2012/01/animal_rescue_want_to_adopt_a_dog_or_cat_prepare_for_an_inquisition_.html

#Truth

Cancer...

...and Borderline Personality Disorder.

Cancer is corrosive. BPD is corrosive.
Cancer destroys your body, mind and soul. BPD destroys your mind, soul and body.
   If I had cancer, and I'd finally been approved for a treatment to destroy it, would my wife divorce me right then? I feel like that's what she's doing now. I've just started DBT. Things will get better, but she's giving up on me on the last leg. I don't understand. And I don't understand why I care?? She's put me through hell... but, I've put her through hell back.
   When she stopped being physically intimate with me, after having Jayden I guess, and I don't just mean sex, I mean hugs, cuddles, everything, I withdrew... I withdrew so far into myself that I became trapped inside my own head. I became convinced that she was abandoning me, just like everyone else had. I became moody, irritated, angry.. If she even brushed against me in bed, I'd freeze, full of fear, that it might break open some of the feeling that I'd locked deep inside of myself, and that that would leave me vulnerable to emotional pain. I will do *anything* to spare myself more emotional pain. It's my biggest fear. I'd shuffle away, to the edge of the bed, bundle the blankets up behind me, make sure she couldn't penetrate the wall I'd built myself. And I'd tell myself, she withdrew from me, she left me, I won't let her hurt me anymore.
   I feel like a child. A hurt, scared and vulnerable little girl, who just needs her mummy. Often times I wish I were a child. I never did want to grow up... Aged 10, I became stressed about the double digits I'd acquired. Aged 12, I feared becoming a teenager, this is when my eating disorder really flared.. Of course, now I know why. Aged 13, I full out panicked, I did anything I could to prove that I was still a child.. yet, I had so many responsibilities. 16, 17, 18, denial. Aged 19, I full out cried when I turned 20. Refused to tell my age, I was "19 and 2 halves". it was a running joke.. but, I was deadly serious. I couldn't accept my age...
   Now, I'm 32 years old and I still feel like a child. My mind will never grow up. At 27, when I was forced into becoming a parent, I was terrified, I couldn't even look after myself... Eventually, I think I just tried to force myself to accept it.. Maybe I thought having a child of my own would force me to do that?  I can't get my childhood back, so maybe I can give my own child a real childhood. Make amends? I don't know. I always knew I wanted children. My life plan had me procreating at age 25. When I reached 25, I knew I wasn't ready. In truth, I think I'm less mentally prepared now, than I was then. Maybe I have a bigger home, but maybe I won't even have that for long...

.I am afraid.

Ruminations...

...and Realisations...

I've come to realise, that all of the self abusive and self destructive coping mechanisms... Worked. They quieted the voices in my head - my own voice - but it's more powerful than a thousand random voices. The thoughts, the ruminations, they're overwhelming and tiring.. Exhausting, in fact. They emotionally and physically draining.

I haven't used, minus one slip, in 7 months. Since before I miscarried my first baby. After having sex to make that baby, I used, because I felt guilty. But I just so desperately wanted a baby.. So, the last time I used was well before I found out I was pregnant, but of course I still blamed myself for my miscarriage :'( I told myself if I wasn't pregnant again within 6 months, that I could go use my face off... Well, I wasn't, and I did use, but I didn't use my face off.. before I did so, I put myself into a crisis/safe house, a step down from hospital.. To try to avoid the impending relapse. I got my period and I just broke down.. Here's a pic of the tattoo I got for my angel baby...

I have tried to mourn and grieve this loss, but letting go is hard.. Letting go of a dream is harder and my baby was a dream.. My dream of being a mother. My dream of being a mother with my (ex?) wife seems long gone, apparently the last 8 years have been a lie. I've been strung along, all the while, she knew she didn't want more kids.. I think she knew that when she decided she wanted to carry. She only ever wanted one, I think she knew that all along. If she only ever wanted one and wasn't prepared to budge on that, shouldn't I have been the only to carry? How can she want the best of both worlds?? She can't expect me to give up that primal desire to carry a child because she only wants one blessing. That's her choice but she couldn't give up carrying her own child? smh. I don't get it.

So, I haven't self injured in even longer  and I haven't engaged in eating disordered activities. I think, because I'm afraid of the repercussions on my body.. I'm already feeling the effects of drug use and ED eating, on my body and he's not pretty. From bone issues to bowel issues, it ain't pretty, I promise you.. My main reason for abstaining (and it seems to get harder some days, rather than easier), is because I want to be healthy to have a baby... But maybe I can't do it? Right now I'm faced with doing it alone, as a single parent.. If I have to do that, I really think I need my head shrunk first. I need to get through dbt, it's a year long intensive therapy, twice a week, groups and individual sessions.. There's a real chance of recovery from borderline (news flash: borderlines don't "recover", because like addicts and the eating disordered, it will *always* be with us, we just better learn how to deal with it), with this programme. I need to do it.. I've been waiting 2 years to do it! But, if my wife is gonna leave me, I need a clean break, which means returning to the UK, but I'm having trouble finding info on dbt back there, if I go back, I need profession supports in place. That's not an option, unfortunately, it seems that you have to ask your GP about any such therapies. Gah. 

I don't want to leave my son.. But I know that I need to look after myself, before I can be of any use to him. Even though my boy was forced on me, I love him with every fibre of my being.. That wasn't his fault, that was his selfish and impatient mother, who manipulated and tricked me into agreeing, and lied about a few things along the way.. So, as much as I feared, and tried not to at times, I became his mummy and I dread the thought of leaving him, but I've only been in this country this long because of him and his mother.. If I don't have my family, then why would I stay?? She expects me to stay.. After trapping me here.. She expects me to stay with absolutely no support network.. She's always bad her smily. She never had to leave them. She never had to be alone. She never had to rely on one single person to love and support her. She never had to leave all she held dear. She just doesn't get it. 

I feel like I've no choice but to stop trying to conceive, at least for a few months - a year (that breaks my heart right there), possibly go back to the UK, slay my dragons, and start over. 

This is just part of the shit that's in my head, on repeat, over and over. Ruminating, over analysing, overthinking, confusing the hell out of myself.

I've become a quiet, introverted person, who's afraid to express herself, because she doesn't trust anyone's feelings, least of all her own. I isolate, because I don't know how to socialise anymore.. I used to be the life and soul of the party.. But I don't even trust that anymore. I'm locked and stuck inside my own head, with my biggest fears... It's a scary place to be. 

There's a borderline quote that I'd like to share.. It describes how I feel, so perfectly, that I cried when I read it.. I could have written it myself, except that I never would have been able to find the words.. I'm hoping that coming back here.. And letting the thoughts flow, unhindered, unaltered, will allow me to find the words to express myself once again...

I'm back?

So, I'm being told over and over that I need to write again... I need to get these thoughts out of my head so that I can't curl up with them, well said by Valerie, in Girl, Interrupted. I think I was able to hold it together better and act a little more sane in the real world, when I was able to get my thoughts down and out of my head.

I've always known that I'm Borderline... "Borderline between WHAT and WHAT!??". I wish I knew.. Crazy and psychotic? Sad and happy? Dead and alive? I don't know.. But I know that blogging really helped and I only really stopped because my partner told me that I spent too much time on here, that it made me a bad parent, I guess. Well, now she's leaving me anyway (I'll get to that later), because she can't handle my emotional outbursts. Oh, but mainly because I want a child, like this is news to her?? And she doesn't. So, she pretty much lied to me from the beginning. She got her baby, that's.. okay, stop dani. Sore spot.

Anyway, before I get into the ramblings from my mind and attempting to update (if anyone still checks back here, I know it's been a while), I need to overhaul my blog... It's definitely not going to be an ED blog anymore. I mean, I still struggle with body image, I always will, those thoughts are still there, but I'm working towards being able to have a baby of my own and I can't do that if I'm not nourishing my body.. but back to the overhaul (this is what my brain is like and why I need to try to get the thoughts out, very ADD, flitting back and forth between thoughts, I hope you all can deal with that), I have completely forgotten how to do anything on here?? I can't remember how to change my background, lol.. so, any tips on diary overhauls?? Anything is better than this right now! I think I've grown up some... just a *little*, lol.