BPD

unikitty1busniess

unikitty2numbers

unikitty3working

unikitty4yay

Emmet: I’m just gonna come right out, I have no idea what’s going on or what this place is at all.
Unikitty: Hi! I am Princess Unikitty, and I welcome you all to Cloud Cuckoo Land!
Emmet: So there are no signs on anything. How does anyone know what not to do?
Unikitty: Here in Cloud Cuckoo Land, there are no rules: There’s no government, no baby sitters, no bedtimes, no frowny faces, no bushy mustaches, and no negativity of any kind.
Lucy: You just said the word “no” like a thousand times.
Unikitty: And there’s also no consistency.

UniKitty has BPD.

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Today I’m guest posting (rather rawly) over at Nightwolf’s Den about how my head and heart fight against me.

Hope you like xx

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Giving you an out

May 18, 2013 · 10 comments

I phrase my question to lead you to a certain response….

Instead of “What time will I see you tonight?”

I go with

“Are you still feeling up to tonight?”

Just a slight difference.

Leading you down the path of the rejection I’m waiting for.

I get the answer I expect.

“I don’t think I’d be up there until late, maybe we’ll give it a miss this time?”

Rejection confirmed.

Ok. Panic time. Turn this around…

“I’ll come to you? I just want to see you, I don’t mind driving, even if it’s just to fall asleep next to you”

Something that you can’t really say no to.

So that I get my expected rejection.

But frantically turn it around.

Is this manipulation?

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[3:13:37 PM] Fiona Moore: Today the theme seemed to be ways I wanna be perfect but feel that I am doomed to failure
[3:18:31 PM] Fiona Moore: \o/
[3:19:46 PM] Fiona Moore: Scrap wanna. Need to ve perfect. Feeel compelled :/

it would be one thing if that simply applied to one area of life – say just work, or fitness, or organising my cd collection. But when it spans all those things and more, spills into controlling how you form, maintain, and freak out about all relationships, it starts to be a little bit of a problem.

When you breathe a sigh of relief after a breakup, not because you’re not frantically missing that person and their role in your life, but because that’s one role you don’t have to play and get right for awhile. That doesn’t place pressure on your every move, your every word.

There are so many other roles swirling around, begging to be perfected, friend, sister, daughter, playmate, employee, flatmate, colleague, speechie.

No wonder I feel paralysed.

Maybe it would help if I just knew who Fiona was first.

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I talk about the meltdown I had Sunday morning when she was gone when I woke up.

Immediately I panic, running through the evening’s events. Had I done something to piss her off? Did I hit on her inappropriately after our conversation about not doing that? Did I make some snarky comment after a couple of shared bottles of wine that one regrets come morning? What did I doooooooo?

I start crying and ringing her mobile, and land line, desperate for a response.

No answer, messages left. Texts and pms sent.

I retreat into my panic. Frozen.

Replaying the evening. No I did noting wrong, but then why did I feel so fearful? So desperate?

Why was I retreating into myself, trying to shut off the world, while trying to stay a part of it.

Just enough to regret, not to be noticeably more than before.

I get a message back.

She’d gone home to sleep. Of course. So sensible a response.

Missing xanax, I take my missed seroquel from the night before, and some panadol for good measure.

And sleep til noon.

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Protected: Spiral

May 7, 2013 · 9 comments

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So I can see myself as the girl who apparently has it together according to family and friends, but really doesn’t have a clue what to do next.

Putting on the costume each day, to head to work, or school, or out with a group.

To play the role I’m meant to play. The friend, the sister, the daughter, the girlfriend, the lover.

The speech therapist.

The dorky catgirl.

What do you want me to be?

Tell me.

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So, I has this,

Consider yourself aware.

Oh and ask me stuff okay?

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