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Trying to put the past behind me and move forward.

I lost myself trying to help and love and support my last boyfriend.
We were supposed to be partners in crime, but instead I ended up having to mother him while my needs were being ignored.
I made money, Im the only one who TRIED to make money. I spent too much money on him and on weed because he was insufferable without it and sick to his stomach which he refused to get help for.
When anger is how you deal with anxiety, medication is a must, especially since he was living with me and I cant handle people yelling at me very well.
Something I never thought would ever be a problem between us.

He wouldn’t go grocery shopping or to appointments without me, yet he couldn’t come with me to mine.  He made me the caretaker and when I told him that it was very negatively impacting my mental health, it didn’t matter. I told him I couldn’t live with him anymore, I apologized so many times for jumping the gun and thinking that we’d be better living together. It didn’t seem to matter for months that my mental health was going down the drain.
His apathy made me think and feel differently about him as a person and boyfriend.
I then realized that I wasn’t going to get the help I needed unless I broke up with him so I did.
Now I am the villain.
I wanted EJ to move in with me for 3 reasons-
-He lived with his very emotionally and verbally abusive father. He would text me about crying in a corner shaking because of his father. How could I not want to save him?
– I thought he would be able to get General Asistance for living in the city which would help with household stuff and food and give us enough money to leave the house and have freedom.
– Winter was coming, neither of us have cars, he lived in Saco and me in Portland. Yes I want to keep the things I like.

Well he didn’t get GA, and I’m guessing he felt like a burden because of it because he continuously references it as the beginning of the end of our relationship. As if all I cared about was money, when he moved in I told him that if he just helped me with chores, I couldn’t care less about the money.
He agreed to this, yet barely ever helped me with anything.  I feel cheated, the man I met and loved turned in a totally different person.

All of the support he promised me, the MUTUAL support did NOT happen.
I had him move into his moms place. I knew this would be a great place for him because its away from the city. He can borrow his moms car since she works from home. He has foodstamps because of me. Now that he is there, he has more opportunities available to him.
But I am the villain, always.

I still tried and wanted to be friends with him, but that didn’t happen.  After things calmed down a bit, he had me over at his moms place while she was away. It was really nice, we got along, we slept together.

The next time I saw him I had invited him to the movies to use this movie card my parents bought him for Christmas. But the time we spent together that day… man he may as well have been a completely different person. We were half an hour early so I asked to grab a coffee but he barked at me that we’d be late.  He wasn’t ready to use the card, hadn’t activated it. So he got extremely upset and angry. His anger towards me, the clerk, the world.. was enough to bring me to tears and an anxiety attack.  I figured the whole thing out and got us in. It was a nightmare and afterwards he told me that we couldn’t be friends. All of this made me feel so fucking used.

We can’t be friends unless you want to fuck me? No fucking thank you. I am done having that irrational rage in my life and being blamed for shit I’m not doing.

I am so over putting other people first. I waste all my time and energy on people who dont deserve it, people that just want to use you for what you have. I don’t care if my actions become selfish. I deserve to be selfish for a while after repeatedly losing myself while helping others.

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Powerless

That’s exactly how I’ve been feeling lately.

I set up for the artwalk on Friday.  I had forgotten how many drunk guys think its alright to stare at my breasts as they walk by.  I was there with a friend, but while he was away to get a drink, the most frustrating, belittling, thing happened.  Congress street is a constant traffic jam and a line of cars sat still for what felt like 5 whole minutes.  A man in his fucking truck were stopped in front of me and he sat there staring at me, blatantly. WITH A GODDAMN GRIN ON HIS FACE.
When he wouldnt look away I gave him a dirty look and mouthed “stop staring” at him, he just grinned wider and stared harder.
The only thing I could do was try to ignore him. I stood there, helpless, against the brick wall while this man stripped me down with his eyes.

The other week, I was out walking and about to cross a street with cars lined up waiting for a light to change.  The first car had two guys in it, and the passenger rolled down his window and put his phone on me.  I don’t know if he was taking a picture or taking a video.  I walked faster and yelled at the car, “What the fuck!?”  But still, powerless to men treating me like a fucking object.

Last week, a woman wanted to buy some of my art.  After talking with her for three days, I was treated with no respect, no consideration, my art was called “too expensive” although she’d be technically paying me half of minimum wage, not counting supplies.
Anyways I wanted to cut ties with her and she told me that if I didn’t sell her the paintings then she would just get someone else to copy them because she took pictures.  Obviously this didn’t convince me to work with her.  But the sheer audacity of that bitch brought me to new level of anger.  Again though, if she chooses to do this and actually finds an artist willing to sink to that level, there’s nothing I can fucking do about it.

***EDIT- How could I forget about this other incredibly invasive thing happened on Instagram. Yeah I know, its social media so I’m asking for it right? WRONG
Some prink named Omartwaf took it upon himself to promote one of my pictures, one where I was simply complaining about an annoying side of having large breasts, you couldn’t even see them. He tells me “I hope this puts a smile on your face, girl”  Anyways, I get on and am BOMBARDED with inappropriate comments from men, on pictures and in my inbox.  Needless to say, I fucking went off on this guy.  I blocked him and hes blocked me and Ive had to take the post down since to avoid unwanted attention on my body.  He thought it would make me happy?? I hate men.

I’m on edge lately, friendships have been slipping through my fingers, I have more anxiety and less peace.  There is construction in Portland EVERYWHERE.  Its gross.
I feel so powerless and uneasy.

Do NOT tell me, that my power is in how I choose to react to them, do not for a second think that BPD is a disorder where you can control your emotions because its the exact opposite.  Do NOT tell me to “think positive” because that kind of bullshit is for when it starts raining while you’re out walking or you get spaghetti sauce on your favorite shirt.  This is about rights, this is about my PTSD being triggered, this is about other people doing wrong, the problem is them, their behavior, NOT my thinking.

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Mini Revelation

So I’m self aware enough to know that I’ve always been a caretaker when it comes to relationships, or even friendships.  I am sooooo much better at taking care of other people than I am myself.  I do this to the point where I lose myself helping others.  

I was coming home from therapy today thinking about this and I came to the revelation that its probably because I had to take care of my mother when I was a child.  She didn’t eat unless I gave her food because she wouldn’t get off of the computer, too afraid to miss a raid in Everquest.  Yeah that’s what ate my mother, that’s what she clung to instead of taking care of her own life, her own children.  She was always very thin and barely slept, her diet consisted of cigarettes and coffee.  She was gross. I took care of her every small time I saw her in my teens also.

I need this habit to change for me to get healthy, for me to learn to take care of myself.
I’m glad I thought of this, had to share, I hope you all are having a good day ❤

 

Fluvogabazepam

This post is about all my mental health business. (the title is a combination of the meds Im on)

I just saw my new therapist yesterday.  I’ve been waiting for one for over a year.  Her name is Lilse(like Tile).  She is also one of the therapists running the new DBT group I am starting!
For those of you that don’t know, Dialectal Behavioral Therapy, is one of the most helpful therapies to receive for a Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis.  You basically practice rewiring your brain.  You work on creating new positive coping mechanisms to deal with stress or triggers and you learn how to communicate more efficiently.  Two things that I am super bad at, or I used to be.  I’ve gotten a lot better since I’ve basically stopped drinking and started smoking weed.
I am definitely a substance abuser.

I am so fucking excited for these things those.  I meet with my therapist every week and have the therapy group every week for two hours.
SPRING is almost here which will definitely help my mental health, also the new alone time I’ve carved out for myself, and the re-emergence of the first friday art walks will help too!

Thats all for now!

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I am Her.

I am done with men(boys really) for a while.  I feel better about myself when I am single.  I feel like I can be whoever I want and do whatever I want, whenever and that freedom gives me a peace of mind that I lose in relationships.
I feel extremely uncomfortable depending on anyone because, in my experience, its pretty likely that they will bail on you when you need them.  I’ve had too many bad experiences with men in the last five years and I need a cleanse.
I don’t know where my issues with men due to experience starts and my issues with men due to my mental illness ends.

I do know that I am SO SICK of being belittled, controlled, and chastised.
I recently was sort of close to a guy who continuously brought up my mental illness any time I was defending myself.  Like, there must be something wrong with me if I am making sound arguments against his abuse.  I know that I only let his abuse back into my life because of my BPD.
People with BPD grow up believing that they deserve the abuse they endure during childhood.  For me, it was neglect from both parents, physical, emotional, and verbal abuse from my mother, as well as being molested by a close father figure.  Because we believe we deserve it, as adults, we cycle back to our abusers.  Yep.  I knew the friendship would end eventually and it has.  Spending time with him made me hate men more.  I’m not sure at this point if it was a lack of intelligence or too much pride, but he just could not understand the things I would say to him, instead twisting my words.  And any time I called him on his bullshit he would never own up to it and instead start lashing out at me.  He never did anything wrong, it was always me, my mental illness, my insecurity.  It always gets to the point where I was talking to a wall.
Actually feeling like I’m talking to a wall is a pretty common occurrence in my relationships.

I’ve got two men telling me they love me, and I’ve loved them, but neither treats me better than I can treat myself, so I choose me.

Being continuously harassed on the street and sexually assaulted by a photographer doesn’t help my PTSD or BPD at all.  I’ve had men follow me with their cars asking if I want a ride, the other day some guys in a car rolled down the window and took a picture of me walking.  I’ve also had two of my BEST FRIENDS fall “in love” with me and then end the friendship by saying nasty things like, “you’re just a slut and you’re going to die alone in a gutter.” I’m not sure how I’m a slut if I WONT sleep with you…

I also want to work on my mental health recovery by myself, without all the complications that come with a relationship.  I want  to figure out a way to have a healthy sex life despite this.  I want people in my life that I can trust.  People that encourage my art, my passions and show me mutual respect.  I want more girlfriends, preferably ones that don’t want to sleep with my exes. (Yeah that happened recently)

I don’t have a handle on my medications or therapy yet.  And I’ve actually been going through a pretty bad artist block, but I’m hoping that will change soon, I want to do some feminist art.  I’ve been taking a lot of inspiration from the show “She’s Gotta Have It” on Netflix and from the artist- Ambivalently Yours who is on most platforms.
Follow me on instagram to know more about my life and art!
bombshell.marie and grungytree
Stand together!

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So, right now, Im on 1mgs of clonazepam and have smoked a good sized bowl of Gorilla Glue.  Thats what it takes for me to get through the days lately, on top of my gabapentin and fluvoxamine <– which is new.
I think it might be working, but Im living in a really goddamn shitty situation right now.
I very recently broke up with my boyfriend, the one who lives with me, and he is still living here until he can get settled at his moms.
It should be good actually because he hates the city and he will have yard space to do all of the cool wood working and blacksmithing projects that he wants to do.

But every day here you could cut the tension with a knife.
My actions are being watched very closely.
Being in this relationship has made me realize I have a lot more fucking PTSD issues than I thought.  I was sexually assaulted twice in 2015 and never really thought or talked about it.  I also have this terrible tendency to date quickly again once a relationship has ended. Im a sucker for the honeymoon phase.
We connected because of our mental health problems but now they are butted heads with a fucking vengeance.  We trigger each other and are too busy dealing with ourselves that we cant be there for each other anymore.

Sometimes the thought of a mans hand on me makes me want to throw up.
I need a therapist and my psychologist and I are pushing harder for one, one that know her shit about PTSD too.  Half of the week I hate men, any man, in relation to intimacy.
I have been so swallowed by my illnesses this past year I feel like Im drowning in thoughts and feelings that I cant explain.  Half of my actions make no sense half of the time.
Heres something I painted-

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Shut the fuck up.

Please.

Sometimes you get really fucking loud and I cant think straight.  
You make me freeze when I should be running, or run when I should be chill.
You’re mean, you’re venomous. You whisper horrors in my ear and convince me they are real.

There’s too many of you and you need to go.  
I wanted that friend even if you didn’t.
You know my insecurities and use the worst of them against me.

They love me.  I know this, even when you’re all screaming at me at once.
Why do you make me say these things?

Stop.
I can’t live like this forever.

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