I am legit insane. I feel it’s evident from my writing by now. At times I feel like my mind is hijacked. When I was dating House Cat we used to call it “emotionally derailed”. This was before I was ever aware of terms like triggers, emotional dysregulation, or CPTSD. At the time, I thought that I had PPMD, a severe form of PMS. Oh, how nice it would be if that was the only issue I faced. 

My personality instead consists mostly of maladaptive behavioral traits and trauma responses. It’s the real reason why I’m so hard to love. I’m toxic and I’m crazy. Who the fuck wants that? 

I’ve had therapy. I did Neurofeedback. EMDR. CBT. DBT. I paint as a form of therapy. I’m constantly reading and learning. I write to get my feelings out…

Sometimes I feel like I’m normal. I’m able to function. I would say that I present myself as an intelligent, friendly, and loyal person.  I’m comfortable in most social settings. I do get anxious in big crowds though. 

I seem normal enough.

Below the calm surface, there is much turbulence. When I am hit by a trigger, I become a different person. Sort of like Multiple Personality Disorder, but not as fractured and not as distinctly separate. The me that is me is always present, in a varying level of cognizance and cognitive function. 

As I’m writing this, I’m laying next to the man that I was so mad at yesterday. Today, I just hate myself. I hate myself for not being able to control myself. I hate myself because my brain is so scrambled. I hate that I feel so helpless and alone. I hate that I’m not normal. I hate that I’m so angry. I hate that I’m hard to love. I hate that despite all my intelligence, all the reading I’ve done, all the research, and everything that I understand, I’m still so helpless. I don’t know what to do and it has paralyzed me. 

I remember my last suicide attempt. I was in a triggered state. All I could feel was utter despair, resignation, and hopelessness. Many times when I’m in this state of mind, I’m also very obsessive-compulsive. I become hellbent on a specific task. Whatever I happen to be doing becomes the center of my attention. The only thing I can liken it to is tunnel vision. Nothing else matters. In these moments, I’m toxically focused. I neglect my responsibilities. I neglect my friends and family. 

On this particular occasion, I was hellbent on learning everything I could about CPTSD. I came across a damning article, I’m not certain which one it was anymore, but it basically said that CPTSD is severe and difficult to treat. Most conventional therapies aren’t effective. (I’ve subsequently learned that a number of therapies are actually invalidating and harmful.) After reading it, I felt completely hopeless. I felt that I might never heal. 

One of the guys I was dating at the time was there, so I went to him for support. Except, I was already triggered. I had already opened that basement door and was tumbling down the rickety stairs. He wasn’t able to comfort me. Everything he said just triggered me more. Instead of being comforted, I once again was fighting just to be heard. Just to be understood.

On most occasions, I don’t feel like anyone understands. How could anyone understand? My emotions are out of control. Whatever the trigger might be, the importance of it is minimal, at best. 

For example, I remember making dinner for one of my exes and I lost my damn mind because he put salad dressing on his baked potatoes instead of waiting for the gravy to be done. But I was devastated. I was crushed. I felt unappreciated and devalued. It was probably one of the dumbest fights I’ve ever been in. Who fucking cares what the fuck he puts on his potatoes? They’re his fucking potatoes! The food he shovels into his own mouth has not one damn thing to do with his appreciation of me. It certainly wasn’t something I needed to get into a screaming match over, let alone mention. 

Trauma has led to an insatiable need for love and intimacy. I imagine romance and love in this idealistic light. It’s a fantastical delusion. It could very well be impossible, not just unrealistic and impractical. It sets me up for failure every time. Anyone who dates me is destined to fail. 

As if being required to play a role in my delusions wasn’t enough, I also make the task even harder by not communicating my needs. Who could possibly be successful in that situation? No one that I know. 

The worst part is all the damage inflicted. All my feelings of inadequacy and deficiency have been pushed onto them. Not the way that you should make anyone you love and care about feel. 

It’s a reenactment and I do it to myself over and over again. 

Take my current situation… I slept with over 60 men last year. Of these 60 men, I fell in love with 3. Not one of them wants a relationship with me, or anyone else (so they claim). All three have told me that they love me, and I believe they are being honest and sincere. It’s these types of situations that are the most damaging. 

I must convince them of my worth because while I can say that I do feel that I’m worthy, I’m clearly gaslighting myself if I believe they want anything more than Friends With Benefits with me. They’ve clearly told me what their intentions were, and it’s most likely got nothing to do with them valuing me or not. 

But I chase nonetheless. I pursue them, attempting to put my best foot forward. I spend time with them, I pamper them. I spoil them. 

I conform my life to their schedule and their needs, ready to jump at any request, small or large. I read articles and books about how to treat him right. I NEED to win him over, because if I don’t, then the idea that I’m worthless is true!

Naturally, I fail. You can’t force a person to love you. You can’t make a person want a relationship with you.

Paradigm Shift

I need to change my mindset. I need to show up in the world in a way that is a more authentic representation of who I am and what I value. 

I need to communicate better. I need to listen more attentively and communicate from a place of wanting to understand instead of wanting to be understood. 

I need the man that I love to agree to work toward a deeper connection. 

Until these things happen, this merry-go-round ride will never end. 

Life is too precious and too valuable for me to waste. I refuse to be stagnant in my growth. I refuse to be complacent to toxicity. I refuse to be content until my environment is a place of healing, for not only myself, but for anyone who comes into contact with me.