I never understood, really, what it meant to shut people out. What it meant to be “closed up”. Not until this last break up. I haven’t really ever broken up with anyone unless I was married to them. For the love of this disease, Bipolar Disorder – specifically Bipolar II Disorder, I’ve been married 3 times. None of them were good men to begin with. To end with, they were even worse.
I broke up with this one because I am broken. My brain more specifically. I can’t get things right. On the outside I look pretty normal. I have a job. Been teaching school for 22 years. I have a house, a car, a dog. Normal things, ya know? I mean… when I look at people that I think are normal – those are the things I see. I usually see them with another person and some kids if they are my age. Me? Not so much that stuff. I can’t do it. It seems that God – or whoever – got that part correct. He/She decided that I shouldn’t get to have kids. And so I don’t. Probably the best decision that “being” has ever made for me. Surely I would have fucked that situation up 8 ways to Egypt.
The ex and I have remained friends. I couldn’t manage a relationship and my broken brain at the same time. He has been sticking around and listening to me spit out pieces of an explanation of what my broken brain is like. It’s been interesting. I’d wanted him to listen while we were together, but now is fine. It wouldn’t have mattered.
Last week at some point I told him that I needed him to block me from his Facebook because I couldn’t deal with who he was – um, dealing with basically. Crazy, I know. But, really? This IS a borderline personality post 🙂 Anyway, it took a few days, but he got around to it. And when I saw that he’d done it – it hit me… I was just closing one more person out of my life.
OK, OK. I know that’s a bit dramatic. HOWEVER, it’s just that it hit me funny. He keeps telling me that I’ll find someone. Therapy Man talks to me about getting out and making friends. My friends all go on and on about the next guy. Each of those conversations makes me shiver and break inside just a little bit more. I don’t want any of that. Really, just leave me be please…
I told the ex the other day that it’s easy for him to say “chin up buckaroo. This is the first time he has experienced a breakdown in me. It’s a cycle that he’s not familiar with. He can’t possibly understand how many I’ve been through. I’m not talking about the automatic “do not pass go, do not collect $200” hospitalization kind. I’m talking about the ones where you fall down and scrape your knee or your elbow. Or, maybe ya hit your head and wake up and realize, “Ahhh fuck! I did it again!” And then you lose someone or maybe more than one someone… you lose something like a car or, fuck it’s the house you were barely covering rent for this time. Or, it’s something even more simple, yet enough that you… have… to… start… the fuck over again! One of those breakdowns.
I haven’t even talked about the
emotional pain hiding behind the loss
I have the physical scars. Plenty of them. But emotionally? I don’t think I have many. Because each time I got up and went out and did to myself all over again. Not that I didn’t cry… not that I didn’t hurt. But, maybe just not enough? Maybe I pretended? I’m really good at that. Maybe I just put on that mask and walked right out in the middle of traffic and tried again and again and again and again.
I have looked into so many of my students eyes and wondered what was killing them? Why they couldn’t or wouldn’t let anyone in. What had hurt them soooo badly that they had shut out everyone and everything?
I get it now. I will never know their pain, obviously. But, I know mine. I have finally begun to feel it.
And so now what? Shut down, maybe? I know that I have started to… I told my ex that I don’t want to let others in anymore because it just fucking hurts? I can feel what my students are feeling now. I have people in my life right now and I’m good with that. I don’t want anyone else. I thought it was the depression. I didn’t have the energy to try…. But it’s not. I can feel the pain inside when I think about starting something new because starting new means there could be an end and I am not strong enough to feel that anymore. It hurts. Bad.
I’m starting now out of necessity. But, I am not setting myself up for the pain again. Not with someone new. Not again.
I’m not sure what this is really going to look like? I’m not entirely sure of anything other than the fact that giving up and quitting isn’t an option. Dying is not allowed. Suicide has never been of interest to me – thankfully for my family and friends. It’s obviously still not. So, I have to figure it out. But, I know that I am slowly closing in on myself. I’m starting to protect my heart…. because it hurts – because living with a disease hurts.
Protection mode – I suppose??? Again, I’m not sure because I have never felt this pain before. As I come to the end of this post, I wonder if maybe it’s not all a bad thing. Seriously, maybe something really great will come out of it? Who knows?