Never have I felt more lost and confused about life before. Everything around me is falling apart and spinning out of control. I’m struggling to breath as the world as I know it crashes down on me like the Twin Towers did on 9/11. Some might say I’m having a midlife crisis of some sort, but I’m barely halfway through my thirties and this isn’t about figuring out who I am rather than how this all went so terribly wrong.
My marriage is faltering, my children have lost their sense of family unity, my mental health is deteriorating, and the foundation for which a happy, comfortable life is built upon has crumbled. Everywhere I look there is nothing but failure and disarray and everywhere I turn, I hit another brick wall square in the face. My soul is battered and bruised and my heart is bleeding on the sleeve I have always worn it with pride. I don’t trust my judgement and my confidence is waning. All I can do is cry, wishing some magical fairy godmother would appear out of thin air and fix it all with a wave of her wand. I’m so tired of fighting.
Having a Borderline Personality diagnosis compounds this mess until it becomes a category 5 hurricane. My emotions are skyrocketing off the charts as they bounce between black and white, never pausing to heed the gray in between. Love and hate, love and hate, love and hate- there is no middle ground to hold steady to anymore. My mind is held hostage with racing thoughts which want to overanalyze everything. Breaking down, filling in the blanks, concluding the worst case scenarios, and piecing the structure back together again over and over until I finally fall asleep at night just to wake up and start it all again. Nothing makes sense and I cannot fathom a reason to justify why anything is the way that it is right now. There’s no good answers to quench my thirst for enlightenment so I can find the path to lead me out of this hell.
I just want it all to stop. I just want my life to be happy and content. I want the security I used to have knowing that I would be all right in the end. But it’s seemingly impossible right now.
What is one to do in a time like this? When the roots they’ve laid down deep are suddenly ripped from the earth and everything you’ve latched onto for support and nourishment is gone? How do gather so many fragments of the universe that keep you whole and force them to stay where they belong? Never have I felt so disconnected and isolated before. Never have I felt so insecure about what the future holds. Everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve ever wanted out of life, is hanging by a thinning thread over the darkest abyss I’ve encountered thus far. I cannot bear the thought of what would happen if I lost my grip.
Maybe had my foundation been more solid and less hollow to begin with, I wouldn’t be in this place at this moment. But shoulda, coulda, woulda’s don’t do anything but waste more of the strength and energy I’m already severely lacking. I need a plan of action. One that doesn’t catapult me face first into steel-enforced concrete barriers that keep me trapped where I am. I need a way to save my life from complete and utter destruction. I need a break from this test of my fortitude and the impact my mental illness has over everything I have ever loved unconditionally without reservation.
I know that everything happens for a reason and very few things last forever. That it’s not my choice how life plays out, though everything I do affects the outcome. If only I had some clarity. Or a crystal ball to show me this isn’t the beginning of the end, as I fear it is, and I’ll wake up one day to feel the sun shining brightly upon my face once more. Miracles don’t really happen to people like me, however. My fate is cursed, after all. Cursed to live with the misery of abandonment, instability, and betrayal; the basic recipe needed to elicit my mental illness in the first place.
Maybe my black and white emotions have simply hijacked this crossroads I’m at and acted as a catalyst to make the state of my affairs worse than need be. But I don’t think so. I think they are just the end result of the pieces of my life shattering as they came down on me on their own. Either way, I’m left to commiserate all alone in this void while trusting the universe to navigate me back to where I belong. I just really hope it doesn’t kill me in the process.
3 thoughts on “Crumbling Foundations At The Crossroads Of Life”
I’ve known enough people who (had? Carried? Wore? received?) the Borderline diagnosis to know how hard it can be to find the center, a solid feeling place to stand, even in the best of times. I’m sorry these are not the best of times for you and have a sense of what the current struggle must be, dealing with so much change. Magic words? I wish I had some more that kind than that even the biggest life changes do work their way through to some new stability and the storm subsides, but it does take time. Beyond that, keep breathing and keep writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I appreciate your kind words so much, Bob. In grateful to have good people like you following me and encouraging me through every up and down I go through. I do have a wonderful therapist to keep me sane, but sometimes, as a writer, it feels much better to word vomit the madness out into the open and release the emotions that are too heavy to carry alone. Borderline is a hard disorder to have at moments like this, because everything becomes so black and white that it’s impossible to see how the gray is where all things become possible again, if you get what I’m trying to say. Again, thank you for listening and showing me love.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know a very great psychotherapist who won’t even treat borderline patients any longer. To be honest I don’t blame him. I dated one… Truly a nightmare the kind of damage you people can cause and smile through it… And I have Bipolar I so I am no angel myself. I think you need a healthy dose of reality so I’m going to dose it out. It sounds like you need some fucking psychotropic medications that work stat. You need to stop belittling your husband and you need to pull your fucking shit together cause you have kids. Your husband sounds like he needs help of his own. (And probably could certainly use a break from you) He wasn’t masking anything darling, you were just desperate and willing to look past his flaws. Maybe you two just aren’t right for each other. Except it and move on. I know easier said that done but maybe he’ll at least find happiness. The outlook for you on the other hand is a life long struggle with a mental illness that is one of the harder to treat. Not much to look forward to. But shit, whoever makes up these rules on who gets to live awesome lives and who doesn’t stacked the deck against you. Oh well. Only thing to do is wake up every morning kiss your kids and hopefully they turn out alright. I think it’s a little selfish at this point to want all those things you talk about for yourself. And stop writing so many posts on the fucking internet. Keep a journal at home. No body really needs to read about your fucked up life we all have our own issues to deal with sweetheart. I hope you figure some shit out cause you sound close to suicide and that’s a shitty way to feel, I’ve been there. I’m not going to say it gets better because I’m not sure if it does. But hey… At least you weren’t born in Syria or the south side of Chicago dealing with life or death on a daily basis.