I'm 35 and on a mission in my life, not for me but for future generations,to try and stem the need of people for things and replace it with love for people again,to try and show compassion where it is needed and help others like myself
Who wants to live forever?
There's so many cliches in the world about relationships and how they are,how they should be and what to expect,I've heard so many of them that they just go in one ear and out the other,the one that drives me crazy is the ride or die one, and the harlequin and joker concept of a relationship. It's laughable. Everyone expects that their relationship will be this whole piece almost like a fruit,complete,unblemished,well rounded,when in actual fact its more like a kit car.After years and years of neglect and abuse at the age of 25 I figured I was never going to find anyone that would want me for me. I had a lot of emotional and mental baggage and felt completely broken. I didn't want someone that was going to put me back together for me to break when they walked away, I wanted someone that would stand beside me while I built myself back up and felt more like a person again.
The Snow That Time Forgot
It had been another uneventful week that was to be followed by another weekend of being on my own, probably sat at some bar or another try to drink myself into oblivion, whilst pretending that I was happy with how my life had now turned out.
Fibro and My Life
Nine years ago, I sat in the hospital, waiting for results back from the orthopedic team, I had been struggling for few years at that point. I was always tired, my arms and legs felt heavy, I couldn't function properly, every joint ached. Even something as simple as wearing clothes hurt, my skin felt bruised and I couldn't focus on feeling anything other than the pain in my body. The doctor told me that I had fibromyalgia, a neuro-transmitting auto immune disease. I heard the words terminal and no cure and was in a haze of anxiety I will never be cured and eventually my body will overload on pain that much that I would need constant pain relief, which over prolonged usage would cause liver and kidney damage possibly failure and there was nothing I could do to change it.
The Days Are Long
For eighteen years, I have held to myself the pain and sorrow of being a young widow. Well, as close to one as can be. We weren't married, but we were building a life together, decorating a flat together, choosing baby furniture and awaiting the arrival of our baby. Life was good. We had our differences, like all couples do, especially considering the age gap between us. The interference of mommy dearest and other external influences, but for the main, we were happy.That was until just before Christmas, 1999. We had been fighting a lot, mummy dearest was threatening him with police action if he let me move in with him. I was sixteen and old enough to know what I wanted. What I wanted was to be free of my mother, to move away from her oppression and bullying, her lies and her games. You see, ever since I could remember I was verbally, mentally, and physically abused by my mother and her husband, my stepdad. Never sexually—I must stress that, but the only bones that were never broken were my fingers, but I digress from one story into another.
Who Am I?
I am the person that people point and whisper about, the one that is frowned upon by some and ridiculed by many. I have severe depression. I am emotionally unstable and my anger knows no bounds. I wasn’t this person to begin with. When I was born I was undamaged. Perfectly formed things moved like a well-oiled machine. Now I feel old, tired, and desperate.
Me and My Borderline
Nowadays, terms like psycho and depressed are an everyday part of life, just words that get thrown out by people that don't really understand their meaning. They are flippant about words that in the mental health system are terrifying. I am 35 years old, I am a mother to five kids and have a chronic illness, I am married and I have borderline personality disorder (BPD).