Frustrated and Unloved

I feel like a caged animal, pacing back and forth, clawing at the bars trying to get out.  I’m frustrated at work.  I’m frustrated with my blood sugar.  I’m frustrated with my relationship.  I’m frustrated with my apartment.  I’m even frustrated at Facebook!  It’s like everywhere I turn, I slam headlong into something or someone I want to scream at and/or smash.  I don’t thank goodness.  I am relatively good at controlling the anger and irritation as they swell up inside me.  But it has a price.  The price is constantly being in a state of hyper-vigilance and anxiety.  The price is a racing heart and a flood of adrenaline fueling these intense feelings until I feel like a caged beast left with only the desire to fight or flee.

I need a vacation.  I haven’t taken personal time off in over a year, or at least time to myself.  I have taken days off to go to doctors visits, take care of personal problems, and when I’ve been sick.  But it’s not the same as an actual vacation.  One where you can get away from it all.  My boyfriend wants to get away this weekend in an attempt to alleviate some of these feelings.  But did I mention I’m frustrated with him.  I’m even frustrated with the way this whole getaway is being planned… or not planned to be more accurate.  You see, he’s not a planner and I am.  So his idea of getting away is a last minute scramble to somewhere.  I’m a planner.  I would have booked a room and planned a long getaway weekend a while ago.  So I’m frustrated that what is supposed to be a relaxing time for me is adding to my anxiety because it’s not being planned.  And it’s supposed to be a birthday present… which makes it even more frustrating’.  I need to invent a BPD to Non_BPD translator.  It would go something like this.

Non-BPD:  Waits till last minute, then scrambles to take his BPD away on a “special” weekend for her birthday.

BPD Translation:  “I’m not even important enough for him to plan something special for my birthday.  If I meant something to him, he would have thought about my birthday earlier and planned this a few weeks ago”.

So now I don’t even want to go.  I feel like no one even cares that I was ever born, let alone that it’s my birthday in a few days.  The protective, reactive part of me has switched on, and I now have this, “I don’t care, fuck everything… I don’t want to do anything for my birthday” attitude.  That’s the flight reaction.  A desperate attempt to block out the pain of not being loved.  Because that’s the last part of that translation up there.  “He didn’t even take the time to think this through, therefore he must really not love me”.

And then the tears come.  I’ve figured out that half the time I cry, it’s out of frustration, not sadness.  It’s because I keep it inside instead of letting myself unleash on someone, or something else, until the only thing I can do is break down in tears.

Birthdays shouldn’t make you cry.  Birthdays shouldn’t make you feel unloved.  But they do.  At least for me. It’s all just part of my life on the borderline.

~ by Enygma on August 21, 2008.