Master Lateness and Unpredictability .... Check!

Master Lateness and Unpredictability..... Check!

Tuesday November, 17 2020- 12:05pm

I know, I know, I said I would write every Wednesday and Saturday night. However, in my defence, I did tell you I was unconventional and all that jazz. Plus, I vaguely remember something getting in the way, Oh that’s right, I think it’s called life. Lol. Anyway, here I am. I have also realized that it can take Vocal itself, reviewing your work before it’s published and publishing it, sometimes it can take even over 12 hours to get your work available to the public. So please keep that in mind as we go along. I will start putting the date and time when I start writing at the top of all future stories for that reason.

This next story I’m about to write is a little bit of a difficult one to write, so I have closed myself off in the bedroom so I can fully focus on every detail, therefore, providing you with the most detailed description of this one. Also so my brain doesn't get distracted, which it does A LOT. Lol.

So, let's jump right in shall we?

I think I was approximately 5 years old when I had this happen. I could have been 4, but I feel like 5 is right. My Dad had a house out in the country, I believe it was Jaffa, and out there he used to breed Saint Bernards. I remember at one time having 11 of them. Including the Mother (Brandy was her name), and all her Pups. I remember my Dad used to feed the pups out of this long metal trough type of thing. I can even still smell the gross wet mushed up puppy food they used to eat out of there when I think about it. They were awesome dogs, but absolutely humungous, and lots of slobber, I remember a significant amount of slobber. Lol Anyway, whenever I would stay the weekend out at Dad's in Jaffa, I remember being so afraid of getting up and having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. See, being a 5-year-old little girl, a Saint Bernard was bigger than I was tall. And I was very very easily knocked around by all of them. I also remember telling my Mom (I think) and Dad that I was afraid to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom because whenever I would open my bedroom door to go down the hall to the bathroom, the Saint Bernards, being so loving, honestly, would get so excited to see me. We were best friends the dogs and me, and I even still have a crap ton of pictures of me at that age laying around on their bellies watching cartoons. I’m talking a LOT of pictures, different rooms, different outfits, different dogs, just a LOT. We were all very close. But at night time when I would come out and try to make it down the hall, they would of course get excited to see me, and basically stampede me. Keep in mind it’s not just one. When I told my Dad about being afraid to get up in the night to go to the bathroom because of the dogs running me over, he just said “Oh come on Kristen, you know they won’t hurt ya!” and dismiss it from there. So one night, I remember sitting in my room in the middle of the night trying to figure out what in the shit I was going to do, how I was going to get down the hall not seen, which after a few minutes of having to pee soooooo badly, I decided that it was literally impossible. They would start their running stampede as soon as I touched the door handle. So, being 5, and not knowing what else to do, this is what I did. I looked around my room, Dads place always smelled the same my whole life, even when I saw him again as an adult, it smelled like dog and cat fur mixed with, honestly, I dunno what. But I HATED that smell. My stuffies and my blankets and my bed were always just covered with a layer of pet hair, and to be quite honest, it grossed me out. Anyway, back to the point, I looked around my fur-covered room that had that smell that I can still to this day smell anytime I feel like it, which I never really do. When I looked around I contemplated just peeing on the floor, but I know that would get me in big shit with Dad and I didn’t want that. So I kept scanning the room, and I saw the heat vent. You know, those metal rectangle ones on the floor? Yeah. I took off the cover of it, and I squatted over it and peed in it. I never told anyone about it, so I didn’t get in shit. I also don’t actually recall doing it again after that time, but I’m sure I did, most likely.

So that’s it, that’s the memory that stuck out for today, don’t ask why because I never really know why my brain thinks of the things it does, it just does. Looking back on this particular memory also helps me to see the small events like this one that contributed to me having BPD. Like I said in the first story I wrote, anyone with BPD has one fundamental core belief: “My thoughts and Feelings are inherently irrelevant and shameful.” Considering there were soooooo many cases of these little incidents, it’s no wonder I have BPD. However, I am working on my recovery, now that I have met someone who actually has recovered and has put faith back in my heart that I can fix this, because let me tell you, for those of you who don’t have it, it’s literally like you’re living in your own personal hell that only you can see, and you yourself are also the devil of that hell as well as the one being held prisoner. I wouldn’t wish BPD on ANYONE, and there is a few people that I have known that probably even deserve it, but I still wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Nobody deserves to live with BPD. It’s honestly THAT bad. Anyway, enough with my ramblings.

I’ll try to write another story today even to try to make up for this past week that I have been slacking.

Also, just a little reminder, if you like my stories, please show some support and send a small tip, with your help I will be able to pay for my vocal + subscription past the 4-week free trial and keep bringing my memories your way. Also, keep in mind, I’m not going to hate you if you don’t. I know times are tough.

Also, you're more than welcome to check out the business website that my partner and I have created, it also includes a blog, and a special blog section that is password protected which contains all these stories I will be writing on here, just in case for some reason something happens, you can still find me and read my stories. The Password is: Peace&Love

https://www.honeybeesdanceparty.ca

Have an absolutely phenomenal rest of your day, because trust me, you deserve it.

God Bless

-Kristen