Almost goofed...

 Whoops, I almost forgot to write anything this week. 

I was literally just in the shower and remembered that I was going to write here again, but couldn't remember when the arbitrary deadline that I set for myself was. It's tomorrow, it wasn't yesterday.

Anyway, I have a bit of a problem with deadlines I set for myself, largely because I know the person setting them and she's a bit of a pushover. Kind of like telling myself I will have a cookie when I'm finished something, and then realizing that I am an adult and I am the boss of myself and I'm going to have the cookie now, task finished or not. It's an issue.

Not a lot happened this week. Got my cervix holepunched, that was super fantastic and fun (came back negative of cancer, so not having cervical cancer is a plus in this situation, sorta). Stepson had a major case of strep throat and refused to swallow anything, including meds. My husband decided that A/C is optional, so my Canadian bones are melting in the stupid Kansas heat.

Wanna know something odd? The fact that the colposcopy came back without anything abnormal is a disappointment. Right now I'm adrift at sea without any sort of map or idea of direction, except it's worse than that. It's like I'm lost at sea, but my ship may or may not be a submarine, so I don't even know if I'm underwater or not. Tests finding something, no matter how bad the something is, is better than them finding nothing if you have major symptoms. I'm struggling to even live a normal life because I'm in so much pain these days. 

I've been thinking a lot about the borderline personality disorder thing. It sort of shook me, because for so long, my mental things were ADHD. I liked how easy it was to just chalk everything up to ADHD and pop the meds and feel better for a bit.

BPD isn't something that really can be medicated. I'm looking at loads of therapy, which is going to be a blast.

Also, I'm struggling with it for a worldview reason. I knew my childhood wasn't great, but it was a far cry better than some people in my immediate friendgroup had. Yeah, my parents were strict and I grew up in a very conservative religious (my husband says cult) household. There are stretches spanning years that I don't remember at all, which is fun. I have distinct memories of cruel things being said, of being laughed at for being vulnerable, of being forced to sacrifice things that were important to me. Regardless, it couldn't have been that bad, right? I was just made to watch babies when I was a child (12) and had a baby sleeping in my room at 16. I was expected to give up on after school activities because it was more important for me to be home. I was planning my own birthday parties by the time I was 12, so it was easier to just not have them. Listed like this, they sound kinda small and meaningless. I could easily pretend that my childhood was fine, that the belief that every child has about their parents only ever pushing for the best for them was true. 

And then comes BPD. Guess what, that stems from trauma. Maybe there was something. Maybe my childhood was every horrible thing that I remember. I wish it wasn't. But, as my husband says, wish in one hand and shit in the other and see what fills up first.

For the past week, I've spent every interaction second guessing everything I say, everything I feel. Withdrawing when I feel the anger start to rise. It's exhausting.

That's all for now. I've got an appointment next week to start therapy, which is going to be a fucking blast. Have a good life.

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