Time

Just before the lockdown was set in place, and we were blessed with the freedom to leave our houses for reasons other than emergencies and a series of walks that no one would ever have taken before quarantine began, I went on three dates with a guy I met online. He was great, treated me nicely, pulled my chair out for me when I sat down and paid for my dinner when we went out to eat, he was a nice guy. Thing is, there just wasn't anything there for me and, whilst I enjoyed his company, I knew I didn't feel any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to him.

He, however, seemed to feel the opposite, and at the end of said third date slipped into the conversation that he was my boyfriend. I freaked out, panicked, and ran into my house whilst messaging my friends who thought it was really great that I'd met someone. They were happy for me, but I just wasn't feeling it and, in turn, was kind of scared.

The freaking out amped up a notch when, after returning from a trip, he turned up at my house uninvited at 8pm wearing rubber gloves and a face mask to give me a gift he'd brought me from Italy. Now, I don't like people knowing where I live, never have done. I don't know if it's because I move around so much or because it takes a lot for me to feel safe and comfortable somewhere, but my house is my house and, for the most part, I'm happy being there alone. To some it would have seemed like a romantic gesture, it's a scene straight out of every teen movie after all, but for me, it was too much, and I had to end it.

In contrast to this, I put up with being with my ex on and off for three years without us ever admitting we were together. He never told me he had any form of feelings for me, but we were a couple. Our "arrangement" as he called it began on odd terms where he misunderstood how I felt about him, and we carried on in the same vein until he finally got a girlfriend a few years later.

There are some days I think of that sentence in my head and rephrase it as "someone he wanted people to know he was with" which really says a lot about my self-esteem.

When I was with River last year, he would never put any labels on our relationship because it made him feel uncomfortable, despite the fact that he was essentially living with me at one point. He would only see me once a week, often tell me that I was supposed to be a one night stand and all in all make me feel like crap. In spite of how unhappy I was, in spite of how many times I told myself he needed to go, I refused to end things. I don't know if it was in fear of being alone, or because I am used to the one being left and, subsequently, hurt, but I just didn't feel able to do it. As it turns out my refusal to end things myself became irrelevant, as he broke up with me via text anyway, citing my BPD as his reasoning.

Not a nice guy in the end.

What I'm struggling with at the moment, and by struggling I mean inexplicably trying to unpick as a way of deflecting from being governmentally required to stay alone with my thoughts 24 hours a day during the anniversary of the worst month of my life, is trying to work out why I do this. Why do I freak out when someone who treats me well and wants to be with me, but allow myself to be hurt by someone who treats me like garbage? For a long time, I thought it was purely because I thought it was the treatment I deserved but, lately, I'm wondering if there's more to it than that. Am I really as afraid of getting close to someone as I seem to be?

I don't know if it's a BPD thing or something else, but right now I feel completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and somehow scared of getting close to anyone whilst simultaneously emotionally drained as a result of being alone.

Ah, quarantine brain, you got to love it.

xXx

Will I?

The night I was raped, I came home, laid on my bed and listened to Will I from the Rent soundtrack whilst eating Mini Eggs. It's been 6 years, and each and every time that moment clocks around I have the same response to those questions.

1) Will I lose my dignity?

Yes. Your dignity will disappear the second you need your friend to hold a glass of your pee because the police officers you called will be in vague search of the DNA of the man that raped you. That feeling of loss of dignity never goes away. It's gone, you don't get that back.

2) Will someone care?

They will, for about a year, They will care from the moment you report the rape until the end of the trial that sends him to prison. After that, you're fare game. People don't care anymore, but you carry it on day after day.

3) Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

No.

xXx 

49 thoughts on 50 shades of grey

I'm halfway through watching Fifty Shades of Grey for the first time and, to be quite honest, I have thoughts. So. Many. Thoughts.

Here are a few of them

1) I don't care who you are, what supposed college student with a 4.0 GPA turns up at an interview without having done the tiniest bit of research? Yes, it's very nice of you to be covering for a friend but all you're doing by not preparing is making her look bad. You're representing her by carrying out the interview, and you're making her seem incompetent.  Furthermore, the fact that she turned up to an interview without a pen makes my blood boil. Admittedly she's not a journalism major, but she is a student. This might be the writer in me talking, but the thought of leaving the hour without a pen when the soul purpose of your assignment is to ask written questions seems really fucking dumb.

2) Who, I repeat, WHO introduces themselves to someone's mother the first night after they sleep with them? This may be my raging aversion to forming lasting romantic connections talking, but surely you should at least discuss it first before waltzing out like it's date number 50 and you're on your way to brunch rather than having just boned her son for the first time. I was with my ex on and off for three years and do you know when I met his parents? Never. Absolutely never, and I was more than happy with that.

3) When the 2010's answer to Bluebeard revealed how he was first introduced to the dom/sub world, he tells her that it was as a result of becoming involved with his mother's friend when he was 15. FIFTEEN. Regardless of where in America he is supposed to have grown up, from my 30 seconds of googling I can not find a single state where the age of consent is lower than 16. So not only was he seducing her friend's son really, really creepy, it was also illegal.

4) "I don't make love, I fuck hard."

There are no words for that little gem, other than, who the fuck got away with writing this script?

5) This is a very specific one, but there is nothing in the start of the contract that he gives her that identifies himself as the dominant and her as the submissive. For all she knows, she could be giving written permission for his window cleaner to go to town on her with Love Honey's full back catalogue, but that's just a minor nitpick.

6) Still on the contract. When he says she agrees to take the pill, is she agreeing to let him choose the doctor or the brand of the pill she takes? What if she doesn't like the pill? What if she goes past a sign one day and gets blood-boilingly angry because a sign is too orange and then decides she can't take it anymore WHAT THEN WRITERS WHAT THEN?

7) Is she searching Getty Images for her research into the term submissive? Because they're really not that educational. Surely introductory research requires at least a 5-second glance at a Wikipedia page?

8) Back to the contract. If his sex dungeon or whatever he wants to call it is red, surely it would be clearer to have a safe word that isn't, red. Slightly pedantic one may say, but safewords are meant to be something completely unrelated to the situation you are in, in order for those involved to know that they are being said. The word red could be misconstrued as a comment on the color of the room. Safety first people

Moving on.

9) I'm impressed with the fabric of the shirt she wears that he is able to roll over her shoulders and use as a blindfold without getting tangled in knots. Looks comfy.

10) Did he bring a wine glass of ice cubes with him? What if she'd said no? Who does that? While we're here, why do her bedsheets match the shirt she wore when she first interviewed him? Is it a nod to how their relationship has changed since the start of the film, and that instead of representing her inexperience by covering her up the sheets now represent the freedom she feels with him given that she lays on them naked while he dominates her? Or did they just have extra fabric lying around?

11) I get that she's meant to be passive, but does she talk like she's nervously introducing you to the relaxation room at a spa through the whole franchise? Does her increase in confidence strengthen the tone of her voice or is this just how she's going to talk? Side note, I'm glad she's finally brushed her bangs.

12) I take back what I said about the bangs, but those chairs look comfy. Think the lighting team might have gotten a tad too excited with the symbolism during the contract confirmation scene though. We get the reference to the red room and the indication of the sun setting on her innocence as she signs herself over to be his submissive, but it's really hard to see what's going on.

13) She just asked him what but plugs were. Let's just leave that there.

14) Very nice of them to bring snacks in, although it would probably have been better if they'd have been there before the meeting started. Also, they're discussing a contract, not a non-disclosure agreement.

15) Much like myself, Mr G. has reiterated throughout the whole movie how he doesn't do dating but is buttering her up by saying they can go on a date once a week? Isn't this a tad counterproductive? He's rewarding her for being happy with the fact that they are engaging in these acts whilst not being a couple by acting like they're a couple?

That one struck a nerve.

16) This may be the first part of the movie where I actually like her character, props for standing by your guns and leaving girl. Although I really don't think anyone actually does that lip-biting thing.

17) Hell yes, girl on the return of the patronising platonic kiss.

18) He's holding people up in the queue to get off stage, this is a big auditorium and they have a lot of people to get through. Also, the fact that he's now begging her completely contradicts the rest of the film.

19) Okay? OKAY? After all that she just gives him her answer whilst shaking hands on the way off stage after collecting her diploma?

20) GET BACK TO YOUR SEAT WOMAN

21) That's a really pretty dress she's wearing for drinks after the ceremony.

22) This man is the king of mixed messages. He doesn't do the "girlfriend" thing but walks over to her and her dad 30 seconds after she agrees to sign a contract to be his sub? And what's with the friend saying he's her boyfriend?

23) Just casually introducing yourself to your sub's father. Because, why not?

24) It's really rude to sell someone's car without their permission, and I don't even know how they did that. Isn't there paperwork involved in these sort of things?

25) Along with her friend, I'm not the biggest fan of her mother. Crapping out on her daughter's graduation because her husband somehow managed to hurt his foot playing golf, and then guilting her for not telling her about her boyfriend when she'd have met him had she turned up at the graduation like she was supposed to? Shitty behaviour my friend.

26) I'm really not sure why she's crying.

27) I like that dress though

28) Does he keep that key on him all the time?

29) I just got annoyed with her taking her arms down without his saying so but I'm well aware that's an issue that's entirely on me

30) What is it with the lip biting? I know this thing was based on Twilight fanfic but sheeesh.

31) Aw, he braided her hair for her, that's quite sweet. If a little personal.

32) The hair braiding is dragging now. Kind of seems like it took him way longer to do than it was meant to but they couldn't be bothered to re-shoot.

33) He had a hairband on him, that's convenient.

34) I don't feel him in jeans.

35) Those are some hella delayed reactions

36) She looks like she's about to begin a rendition of "I'm a little teapot"

37) Side note, what the fuck is the purpose of that song?

38) I don't really understand the point of that exercise.

39) If nothing else, this film is an ASMR dream.

40) She has nice boobs

41) I could have gone my whole life without having seen him smell her underwear and I'd have been a happy woman. Now I feel the same way I did when I accidentally my head chef without pants on.

42) Those jeans are at a really weird height.

43) Here we have another cover of Crazy in Love because, apparently, we didn't have enough of them.

44) I get that she was supposedly exhausted from the fucking but was the awkward carrying her to bed thing really necessary? Surely she could have walked. And why are we now going straight from an intro round to his red room to dancing together before they go out to dinner with his family? The dancing, song choice and upcoming dinner arrangements really don't fit with his "I don't do girlfriends" ideology.

45) Now I know what I look like when I dance, and it ain't pretty.

46) Early on I thought the her-friend-his-brother thing was just casual but apparently, they're also a couple and are also sat comfortably around the dinner table. Cosy.

47) She's just revealed that she's going to Georgia to visit her mother, a decision that seems to have been made within the final 10 seconds of dinner, and he's "palm-twitchingly mad' (the film's words not mine) to the point that he carries her over his shoulder to give her a "you're mine, all mine" speech. I didn't realise the not a couple thing prevented her from seeing her family. Was this in the contract? Must have been somewhere between anal fisting and cable ties.

48) I'm actually on her team at this point. He is confusing as hell and, although I don't get her obsession with sleeping in the same bed, I do get her frustrations. I feel there's a whole other nerve being triggered here though so that's a subject for another day.

49) I've had enough now. He just used the phrase "I had a rough start in life" and now it's time for me to wash my eyeballs until the image of the underwear smelling goes away.

xXx

I don't know what to name this post so I'm calling it Love Will Tear Us Apart because I love Joy Division

Try saying that with a mouthful of dick.

Yeah, I'm in one of those moods.

There are some things I don't post about because I'm worried it'll make my mum worry. Today I need to get this out so, on the odd chance you read this muvva, I'm sorry.

When my Farver (my dad's dad) died, I was sad, obviously. But, aside from the expected sadness, I didn't really feel much. Past the age of what, 10, he hadn't really been part of my life. I see my Dad's family so rarely that my uncle and aunty didn't know I was at the funeral when I was stood next to them. It's nothing personal, it's just the way things are.

When my mum's dad died, it hurt, it hurt a lot, but I knew it was going to happen. I hate hospitals, so when I decided against going to see him and instead spent the evening with my lovely Grace Face I remember telling her that he'd given up. I knew he had, I knew he was never coming home. Losing him hurt, but it wasn't the kind of hurt I"m feeling now.

There's no denying my nan had been ill for a long while but, when she last went into hospital, I expected her to come out again. Despite my selfish desire for her to get better, she was ready to go. She wanted to go.

My nan's funeral was today and, obviously, I couldn't go. My nan was so so beautiful, I got my balls out honesty from her and she never took any shit from anyone. When my brother wasn't doing his college work I asked my nan to tell him to get his act together, because I knew he would listen to her. It didn't matter where I was or what I'd done if my nan said jump, I jumped.

So the fact that she's gone is hitting me more than I thought it would. In theory, I know that she's gone but, in practice, it hasn't quite registered yet. Her beautiful face is still in my mind, sat on her chair in her flat the same way I saw her the last time we face-timed. The last time we spoke when she told me she wasn't feeling well and I couldn' do anything because I'm so far away. I'm sure it'll register more when I get back to England but, right now, it really doesn't seem real.

Denial, the first of the five stages of grief, am I right?

xXx

Boarderline grief

Monday morning my nan died, there's no way of sugar-coating it. She's dead.

It's the thought process I have around this that got me thinking about how I deal with grief as a borderline. About how I'm able to process something I have such little control of when my desire and obsession with control is often what drives me to engage in the sort of self-destructive behavior us borderlines are known for, as a way of giving myself a break. 

When Matt died, it was sudden. There was no way of knowing it would happen and it seemed a cruel irony that it happened in the midst of such a bs time. The fact that I wasn't able to attend his funeral was, if you'll pardon the pun, the final nail in the coffin. I know I made the right decision, I wanted to go to the sentencing, but it still hurt. 

With my nan it was different though, I knew it was about to happen. As strange as it may seem my dreams predict death. When I dream of dead animals, or sometimes animals in general, someone, be they human or animal, is about to die. On very rare occasions I predict these things when I'm awake, and on even rarer occasions my strange affinity with animals predicts a good thing. Regardless of whether I was conscious or awake, I'd been dreaming of dead animals since the very end of 2019, and I knew it was her time. She was ready to go, and my brain was preparing me for it as best it could. 

As humans, whether we choose to admit it or not, we're inherently selfish. For the most part, we prioritize our happiness over that of others. I wanted more than anything for her to "recover". To escape the virus that is smothering the planet and, once again, come home from hospital. But I eventually realized this wasn't the right way of thinking. There's a video by YouTuber Molly Burke that talks about the difference between praying for others and praying selfishly. I'm not religious, but even I have a vague understanding of trying to communicate with something more in a bid to get what you want, even if it doesn't necessarily benefit the individual in question. 

In this instance, she's talking about how her first guide dog died, but the sentiment's the same. 

As a borderline, my perspectives on selfishness and grief are blurred. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad about my nan and it hurts that she's no longer here, but my temporary inability to feel the way I think I should be feeling is still playing around. In the same vein as when my friend got engaged, or when my mum's boss died, my feelings aren't constant. I know I should feel sad, but I'm dancing between sadness, happy sadness and not really feeling anything at all. As with so many things, it is what it is, and there really is fuck all I can do about it. 

Aside from the obvious question of how I deal with grief as a borderline, this whole situation has got me thinking about how that compares to the way other people deal with such events. Do other people feel grief in the same way? Or is my inability to maintain a steady path of emotions what's keeping me from dealing with my grief? 

To be continued. 

xXx

I can't find anything else written about this so I'm going to write it my God damn self

I thought we could all do with cheering up, so I typed Pupper into Pixabay and this is what I found. 

Enjoy 

It's been posted in passing, but I've yet to find anything I had even the slightest desire to read that discusses how utterly shit the state of the world is if you're a) alone and b) living with mental health issues. We get it you're stuck inside, but given that I have at least 17 different personalities rattling around my brain at any given time it's really hard for me to muster up the energy to give a shit about the fact that don't have anything to do and that Tesco has run out of eggs.  

Right now, I'm feeling it. Not only is this a hella shitty time but I'm also going through it and completely alone. I see people around me complaining about being bored when they're at home with family, pets, and access to a garden, but given that I'm living through this bullshit whilst simultaneously being constantly reminded of the fact that the guy who raped me is in prison living a life void all this crap and, once again, that I wasn't able to say goodbye to my friend Matt who died five years ago because his funeral fell on the same day as the sentencing of aforementioned rapist, I have even less ability to care than usual. 

Things would be bad my end if the world was on lockdown or not, but the fact that I can't distract myself by working or seeing friends is making it worse. I'm living in a permanent state of intense guilt at the moment,  and there's nothing to distract me. Whenever I eat, drink or spend even a cent I feel nauseous, and I find myself searching for something to feel bad about when I wake up each morning. There aren't many symptoms of BPD that I struggle to deal with, but the pain the guilt causes is indescribable. It sits on my chest and curls itself around my fingers, wraps its coils around my throat and slides into my ears where it sits blissfully next to my thoughts. Running down my neck and caressing my spine, I have no idea why it's there and really thought I was done with it once I realized in a long-ago therapy session that the reason my mumma's bf didn't like me growing up really wasn't my fault. 

No shade, we get on like a house on fire now, we just hated each other when I was a kid. 

This post was meant to be about how it feels to be on lockdown when you have mental health issues but it isn't really about that. It's about how there is no way of putting into words how I'm feeling at the moment, but that the tapping of keys and the thud of my fingertips against my laptop is the only thing providing a sound loud enough to even touch the constant drumming of guilt that's been playing in my ears for the past few weeks. 

So who knows.

xXx

#OverheardInWilliamsburg

The world is incredibly miserable at the moment, so I thought I'd make a post that, at the very least, makes me laugh.

I spent Christmas in New York with my "sis" Laura, and one night she introduced me to her friends that lived in the flat opposite. There's no real way of describing them, other than by relaying sound bites of what they said that night.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, #OverheardInWilliamsburg

"They didn't let me play the music I wanted I just wanted to play techno"

"That's okay I snort Panadol sometimes"

"When I'm asking for a bag of ket I ask for some whizz fizz and they know"

"Boots, it's a statement"

"Makes you pretty unique in the office"

"and I got that drug money because you better believe we sell pinks"

"I'm just a quirky like a child"

"ket is now the Wallstreet party drug"

"If you go to a music festival they're just selling for caps and weed"

"Medical-grade ketamin"

"Oh your whole fits like 3 grand"

"Yo I'm really fucking feeling it"

"You did not come prepared for the sesh"

"Nothing like taking a couple of caps and bro-ing with the boys"