I had just written 400 words into an MS Word document for a post today explaining my previous post and it disappeared.
I’m used to being disappointed at this stage of my life so I didn’t put my fist through the computer screen.
I’ve decided to write on the program now instead of Word documents and then cutting and pasting.
And since I don’t want to try to recreate 400+ words, I’ll try for a synopsis here.
When I say I quit I mean this.
To quit trying to adopt a persona that will, in my mind, keep me safe, successful and reasonably popular.
With Borderline, you’re never sure of who you are since any development of self as a child was beaten out of you. I had to act like a trained seal so as not to incur the wrath of my father, the indifference of my mother, the ridicule of my sister and the scorn and humiliation from the nuns.
I can’t do this anymore. I had one last chance, in my mind, to come to a place no one knew me or my history and become the person that fits in with normal American society, as rotten as it is.
But I failed and my track record is 100 percent consistent. I can’t do it. I can’t pretend but can I be myself? That way lies disaster. But what is ‘being myself?’ I don’t know.
So I thought the worst part of this condition is trying to be a people pleaser. I people please to a nauseating degree. It never works.
But I’m afraid that if I stop being a people pleaser, I will lose everything. It’s scary when I’ve been this way all my life to contemplate actually going back to speaking up for myself. I used to. I was crushed as a child. But that child had some guts. But if you smash a child’s will early enough and often enough, you get me – an inveterate people pleaser.
And I worry. I worry about losing that little I have left. I worry about losing my job and leaving my wife penniless. Well, if it looks like that’s about to happen, well, I know how to show myself the door. I won’t leave her penniless because I can’t live in this world.
(As an aside I’m jealous of the kids who are being raised to speak out and express themselves – that’s a luxury I was never afforded. They will know who they are – lucky them. Those that spit on them are people like my father.)
At my age, I am just so so tired of living this way. Of the constant fear of people’s judgments; of feeling like I have no power – that others always have power over me. I’m just so tired. I always say I welcome a terminal medical diagnosis because that is the only way I can live the rest of my life truly free to be whatever I feel I need to be. If you’re staring death in the face, what do I care about someone’s judgment of my political, religious or social views? God, how freeing!!! But as long as we depend on others for our paychecks and social position, we have to care. But wouldn’t it be great not to have to care about pleasing people? Just for once? That would truly be Heaven to me. But there is no Heaven in life.
So I give up caring about it. When I do my socially acceptable trained seal act, people land up disliking me just as much as when I explode from the weight of carrying the trained seal act.
So if it doesn’t matter, I might as well do and say what I feel. At 56, I’ve failed at adulting, I’ve failed at maturity, Hell, by any measurable standard, my life has been one big clusterfuck, and I see now I will carry this miserable BPD demon to the grave.
So just stop caring about what people think of me. I give up. I can’t carry this burden any more. I will probably never know who I really am. But I’m tired of being the trained seal.