1/1/21


I've been on this website for a while.... Since the last narcissist. Now I've been through another one and I realize that there is nothing more. Life is simply giving and taking until you have nothing left to give, and I'm finding that I have nothing left to give. I'm giving up. I've told many people in my life, though none seems to take me seriously. I don't want to be alive anymore and I know that my time is limited. I have a plan and I'm content with that. I simply can't do this anymore. I will apparently never be enough. I will never be worthy of love and honesty. I will never find that, because not only am I not worthy, but I honestly just don't believe it exists. Even the nicest of people are liars. I went 6 months without drinking only to drink tonight. I've given up on everything. I got on my medication again, I apologized for everything I did wrong, I tried so hard to make amends.... It doesn't seem to matter. My misdeeds were the blades that cut us. It's always my fault. It can't be repaired, and why should it, when he has another to fill his time? But .... I'm convinced now that I'm the narcissist. He must be right - I'm the bad guy. I yelled, I screamed, I freaked out when I caught him in lies. I can't keep myself small and meek enough for any man, it seems.... And what good is success when I have no one to share it with? When I must celebrate it all alone? When everyday is exactly the same? Just me, alone, in my bed, crying and depressed and lonely and praying for an out.... The out is me. I feel I have no other choice. I've been planning this now for a few weeks. I only have the photos left to edit from today's session, and then I'll be ready to go. The will is saved on my PC, in case anyone need to find it. PIN is Mom's Bday. I'm drinking, drunk maybe, but ready to say goodbye. I obviously have nothing worth offering since multiple people have deigned me worthless and abandoned me and blamed me. He came into my life when I was finally feeling better after the last narc.... Only this time, he sucked me dry. I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved the first narc, because he was so beautiful and smart.... This time, I lowered my standards even farther and chose a guy who can't even spell, lacks the beauty I so loved before, and isn't even as smart as I am.... I lowered my standards only to be discarded for another woman by him as well. Seems I'm the issue. I'm the common denominator in these situations.... So I'll remove the problem. I wish I'd never met Tyler. I wish he could move forward without my having hurt him. I wish he could live his life in happiness with Lexi without me having been a factor. I wish people could just live their lives without ever knowing anything about me, since all I've done is ruin everything I've ever touched. I'm sorry, Tyler. I'm sorry Jake and Jenna. I'm so sorry, Ashtyn. You're all so much better off without me.

Goodbye.

12/15/20


It's over. I should've seen the game he was playing long before it got to this point, but I so badly wanted to hope that while we were apart, he was doing like I was and trying to better himself. He wasn't. He used this time to frequent strip clubs, watch porn, and act out sexually with this other girl. She's now posting all over her tiktok about them having sex, basically rubbing it in.... I see now that he's using her to twist the knife in my back because once again, I held him to my boundaries and standards. Just like the video I saw today, narcissists will move on to new people who don't know the truth about them as soon as you figure them out.... They can't control you anymore. That's why Dustin let go so completely after I finally moved out, because I was repulsed by him and he couldn't trick me anymore. I think Tyler came back to test me one more time, to see if he could break me down, and I only broke half way. I broke and said he could come back, I loved him, etc etc, but that he had to play by the rules, same as before, and he chose to run off and live the playboy sex addict life instead, and while I know that, logically, it's still completely crushed me again....


I feel no will to live. I feel no hope for the future. No man will respect my boundaries when only fans sluts are everywhere and willing to beg for his attention and give their body up for nothing.... How will I ever find a man who's willing to sacrifice strip clubs and only fans and porn for.... just me? Tyler makes me hate myself. He makes me feel like the worst person in the world. I can't stand myself when we've been talking. I'm desperate and pathetic, begging him to come back when I know that he isn't going to because he's addicted to that feeling of fucking someone new, the exact same as Dustin. I feel empty, like a dementor has sucked my soul from my chest. I just have nothing left. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to take pictures. I don't want to spend time with my pets or my child. I don't want to paint. I don't want to even watch tv, or dance, or anything.... I just want it all to be over. What else is there? Another 15 years of living alone before I die of cancer and a bunch of people fill my funeral with praise for my work, but no real memories of me, because they didn't really know me, and most of what they knew are half-truths twisted up by ex-boyfriends who wanted to come out cleaner than they actually were.


I don't even want him back anymore. After what I saw today, I feel nothing for him anymore. It's not love, or hate, but complete indifference. Nothing matters. Apathy, I suppose. Maybe this is my brain's way of protecting me from the pain and trauma I'm going through.... Just completely disassociating. Every time I close my eyes, I see Lexi's face, I see Tyler's face looking at her body, I see them making love, his eyes feasting on her, infatuated, love pouring between their souls. I dream of them making love in the room with me everywhere I go while Mary stands by laughing at me. I feel sick. I haven't eaten in days. I don't know what to do with my days. I can't focus. I keep wandering the house, again, looking for answers to questions I should never have to ask. I am not sure anymore if life is something I'm compatible with. It seems that everyone hates me and feels their lives are enriched by my absence, so maybe I should stop being so selfish and just do what's best for everyone.


Everyone feels I'm a burden, attention-seeking, selfish, narcissistic, cruel, cold, abusive.... Then I must be. Who are we other than what others perceive us to be? I don't even know what kind of note to leave. My entire life I planned to leave a note, but now that, too, seems pointless. Maybe this is the note. There aren't words for this pain, for the additional layer of pain caused by the total ostracization and devaluation of this situation.... again.


Tyler saved me from the pain last time. This time, there isn't anyone to save me from the pain. There is nothing that will make the pain go away, or help me to ever believe or trust a man again. I can't compete with phone screens and escorts. I'm sick of trying. I'm sick of begging men to see me as WORTH it to give up such shallow pleasures in life and pursue a deeper connection. I clearly am not worth it and humans don't want a connection.... They want instant gratification and I just can't stand it anymore. I don't fit in here, I don't belong, and I have nothing to offer. Everything, I touch, I break.... Maybe it's time I broke myself once and for all.

12/12/20


Today, I realized that my first memory is of my dad rejecting me, yelling at me, and telling me to go away. A friend on Facebook posed the question, "What is your first memory?" And when I thought about it, I landed back on that one. I can still see the toy I wanted to play with with him. I took it back with me up the stairs to my room, shut the door quietly, and lay on the floor. I cried there until I fell asleep. I don't remember anything else from that day. I think I was 3. 


It suddenly makes sense exactly why I feel the way I do about men.... Why my emotional capacity seems like a gaping hole I can't swim my way out of. I've had a wound in my soul since I was still pure and innocent, and at that time, I couldn't protect myself. I couldn't advocate for myself. I couldn't understand that it wasn't me that caused the bad reaction, it was just my dad being a shitty father. 


But now, in everyday life, when anyone is upset in any way about anything, I feel that awful feeling I felt that day when I was 3 years old. That it's my fault, and they hate me. My dad set this template for me very young and no matter how much love my mom gave me, I always knew in the back of my mind, I was in danger, and that I wasn't really loved by the men in my family. When my little brother was born, he followed my dad's lead in that way, but he also sucked up all of my mother's love and time. Suddenly, where I was used to at least getting love and time from my mom, that was gone and all I was left with was emptiness and pain when my dad was watching us. 


Things escalated as my parents got divorced when I was 11. I see now where I was doomed from the very start and it was really unfair to me. I believe I was definitely born with some predisposition to chemical imbalance, but I also believe that these very early childhood emotional wounds are the center of my BPD. I think I would've still had my bipolar diagnosis, but I believe my BPD started before I was born, with the negative emotions my mom was feeling from my dad, who was an abusive alcoholic at the time. I think that stress translates to a fetus and I believe that those early childhood wounds, like the one at the start of this essay or book or whatever it is, harmed my literal brain development and here I am, 33 years old with the emotional maturity of a 14 year old. 


It's debilitating. People think I'm mean, angry, entitled, lazy, arrogant. They have no idea who I really am. I am pain, all of the time, and some days, I barely speak without tears springing from my throat. I do a good job of hiding it sometimes, but not always. The days I'm disassociated are the worst, because I can't hide it from anyone around me, and that's always where my jobs suffer. People think I'm strange and often think I'm faking how I feel, but when I'm numb and in a panicked state of constant back to pack panic attacks, I can't control it. I wish I could. I'd give anything to be "normal". 


I used to love being this way - when I was 8. I thought I was so passionate, fiery. I was proud of that. I couldn't understand how other people seemed so... just, lax about it all, about life. I was always so dramatic, always so passionate, and while I do love that about myself, I just ... wish that the lows that came with it weren't so devastating. I've almost killed myself thousands of times. Thousands. The thought crosses my mind every single day, and more than once. My greatest fear is dying alone, and yet, I feel destined to live out exactly that fate at my own hand, as though it's inevitable. 


It's like that gaping wound in my soul from when I was 3, that pure rejection and hatred I felt, has festered for 33 years now. It's just a cancerous, dying portion of my soul, now. I understand exactly how BPD leads to suicide. It all makes sense. BPD sufferers have a 16% smaller amygdala gland than normal people, which is the part of the brain that regulates our emotions, while at the same time, we have an overactive, or sometimes larger, frontal lobe, which is our personality, our perception, our thoughts, etc.... So that combination in addition to the wound? It's basically a death sentence. Take emotional abuse and turn it into a literal physical state of being and that is living with BPD. I don't know any other way to describe it, because I was lucky enough to not be sexually abused as a child (well, not until I was a teenager, at least). 


I did experience spanking as a child, from my dad. It hurt physically and emotionally and taught me from a very young age to be afraid. I'm afraid of everything, especially authority figures. Getting pulled over by the cops gives me literal panic attacks and that makes the cops suspicious, cuz why am I freaking out if I'm not doing anything wrong? I don't know.... Because I'm afraid. Because male authority figures are all my dad telling me to go away, go to my room, I fucked that up, it's my fault, I'm in the way, I'm annoying, and then spanking me for small indiscretions. I don't think I was ever a bad kid. I did normal things - sneaking an extra soda, an extra piece of candy, snooping for birthday or Christmas presents. These were all things I got spanked for. 


When my dad taught me how to ride my bike, he got frustrated with me and my fear. My fear of falling, and my fear of him. He eventually told me to figure it out on my own and left me outside in the yard alone while he went in the house. I remember that same terrible cutting feeling that day. He had wanted my to push off of our porch and ride on the concrete, but I was still falling, so I wanted to do it in the grass. I was still too scared to push off and fall again, and that was when he got upset with me. I eventually taught my damn self how to ride the bike, a couple days later, after doing it my way, in the grass. 


Now when I've broken up with my most recent ex, Tyler, and he comes back, I get this rush of love, this rush of good feeling, this rush of acceptance from him, even though he doesn't want me back and is essentially just using me sexually... But even the tiniest acceptance from a man, despite the worst abuse, is like heroin to me. I can't resist it because I just want to be loved so, so very badly, but I've also learned directly from my abusive father how to hurt others and when I'm hurt.... That stupid shrunken amygdala of mine really fucks me over, because I so often lose control of myself and lash out, both emotionally and physically in some instances. 


When my fight or flight is activated, I have no idea which reaction I'm going to have. When I got raped, I froze. I always thought I'd fight, but I couldn't move. He had to move my body. I remember him pushing my head down, holding my head, moving it up and down because I couldn't move, I could not move. When I'm meeting my biggest fear, tornados, I tend to freeze as well and can't move, or talk.


When I caught partners cheating on me, however, that visceral wound I originally received from my dad is stabbed wide open again. I feel a pain so intense, I have to do something to get it out or I'll explode. I often lashed out at my partners physically when I caught them cheating on me, because after years and years of facing this abuse, this rejection from the men that I was finally getting love from.... It was like sticking red hot fire into my still-bleeding, 30 year old wounds, a blazing reminder that I'm hated, I'm worthless, I'm unwanted. It stabs me at my core wound, and I must defend myself, I guess. That's the only time my fight instinct is ever initiated. 


Most of the time, my response to other kinds of trauma is fawn and I'll sacrifice myself to the other person to get them to not leave me.... Not abandon me, not push me away like my dad did. Tyler was replacing me with another girl and what did I do? I wanted to have the physical reaction of lashing out at him because I felt that rejection, that total, enveloping worthlessness, the pain. The pain is so immense, I can't describe it. It's a feeling in my chest that stops my heart and feels like my soul is shattering. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't stop myself from sobbing hysterically. I panic. But I kept myself under control because I've been working on it, but it made me so angry, and at the same time, I wanted to give him anything, everything, to just not go.... Please don't give that love to someone else when I feel that I'll die without it. It's like my soul is being shredded and I'm being completely erased from existence. 


It makes me want to die.... And people say I use it as a manipulation tactic, but it's not. It's literally how I'm feeling. The more he discards and devalues me by loving someone else, moving on, using porn, cheating, whatever it is, the more I feel that I should've just never been born, because no one has ever shown me what it's like to be valued or loved. No one has respected my boundaries, treated me like an autonomous individual, respected my space, or even tried to understand my past or my illness, when I've done so much to try to understand theirs. I dug so deep into Tyler's past trying to understand his family dynamic, to see where things went wrong, to understand the sexual issues he was having, and all he did for be was call me a crazy borderline that needed medication and therapy while he ignored that he was literally antagonizing my BPD with his behavior.


I get labeled "Daddy Issues" with a smirk, while those daddy issues are literally the cause of my suicidal ideation every day, and have caused me to go on and hurt other people, too, including my ex boyfriends and my daughter, my mom, and my siblings, as well as friends and strangers. The wounds in me have caused me to hurt others, and I see that now, and it just causes an even deeper wound in my soul. I can see my soul, a beautiful crystal, glowing ultraviolet blue and purple, with a huge, bleeding black hole devastating it all the way down to the core, and I'm out here trying to find a man who will love me, feeling like if I could, that would fill up that hole. I think maybe it would, if only template for love wasn't to fall for men that treat me like shit. It feels like a never-ending cycle.


It breaks my heart extra with Tyler, because I feel he's not a bad person. He's been abused, he's been neglected by his parents, abandoned, he has those same soul wounds I have and instead of loving eachother, we've torn eachother apart, and I simply don't understand why. All of the other men I've dated have had these same soul wounds, but none of them was even half as capable of seeing or admitting it as Tyler was. He admitted he did wrong, he was hurting people, he just didn't know how to stop, and I can relate to that. 


I hurt him many times and didn't know how to stop myself from having that reaction when I was in pain. Thankfully, my medication really blunts my emotions and that's super helpful for someone like me and has helped tremendously, but I know that alone isn't going to begin mending my soul wound. It makes me wish so badly that Tyler would give me a chance again and give healing a chance and come back to me, one more time. His love was genuine, I know it was good intentioned in the beginning, I believe he has a beautiful soul that's cracked and hardened, but he isn't lost, like Dustin. He isn't incapable of change. He's beautiful and I wish I had had the capacity to help him and separate his actions from my self worth. 


Me realizing all of this is just a part of my journey. It's just a part of my growing and delving deep into my past to understand how I've gotten to be where I am. Maybe this can be the very first stitch in my soul, maybe it can stop the blood flow, just a little.