Musings

I’m empty. It’s the hardest feeling to describe. In my gut I know that eventually I’ll once again be filled with the joy I’m so desperate for, but for now Im left wanting. This is the hardest it’s been for a while. I want to be able to get it all out of my system and talk to somebody about how this feels, but trying to express it in person or on paper is too difficult and I’m too tired. I’m so heavily medicated now that every limb is leaden, every thought laboured. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, nights out feel so strange, alcohol makes it stranger. It gets so confusing when a few people are talking at the same time, it’s hard to follow conversations. Vodka is my friend usually when I go out. Goodbye social anxiety at least for a while. But when I’m struggling, vodka plays me like a fiddle. I drink too much and I start to wear my feelings like a garish shirt, it all comes out good or bad. I’m either the most loving person you know or the most bitter. I test the resolve of the people around me, I’m surprised I’ve not been punched yet to be honest. Then there’s the clean up afterwards. An endless stream of apologies and promises, and a hangover that lasts all week. I know I shouldn’t drink with my meds, I know it would be better if I didn’t, but nobody really knows me sober. It’s no fun being around me when I’m sober. Plus when I’ve had a few drinks I’m a delight. It’s just that moment when I slip from drunk to wasted. That’s when things get chaotic. I think I’m scared of what people will think of me when they know who I really am. Scared to drop the veil and allow people in. There’s a lot of things said about people with BPD, a lot of it negative. There is still a lot of stigma attached to the diagnosis both by laymen and health professionals. It makes me scared to allow people the opportunity to get to know me.

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