purging as a form of procrastination

The good news is I am hoping that this last bit of depression is as a result of being sick, which I believe made me miss some days of meds, PMS and stress.

So rather than address the things I should, I went into the back room and began sorting through the many buckets of old papers I have been holding on to.

 Except sometimes the things you find are not the things you should. I found my old stash of blades.

 Could be triggering so feel free to skip the inset portion.

For those just joining us on this journey, I am not a cutter as much as I am a self-injurer/marker if that makes any real sense; I don't cut I poke - usually in the name of opening a boil, blackhead, zit or something except that I am obsessive about it to the point of causing damage. 

BUT it was an act of cutting that made me decide to go to partial. I realized I had cut more than a slash in my forehead but indeed had cut through the fabric of my only safety net which was that I would never slit my wrists because I was afraid of the pain and the blood. It was a feeling of intrigue at the color, surprise at the relative lack of pain, and the relief plus calm at the release which made me admit the incident to my T at the time and then ask to go to partial a week or so later.

Yet there are some things I have also realized. Much like I mimic people's behaviors in this attempt to create myself, I worry now that I am mimicking people's behaviors in depression in an effort to define it and express it. In some ways I think it relates back to the years of being able to "fool" people into not realizing I was depressed. I think many behaviors I have developed are carefully controlled cries for help. I know that everyone has those cries for help but what I mean is I feel like I chose consciously to do those things rather than them coming from a place from my subconscious.

It is ephipanies like that which make me accept the diagnosis of Borderline and frighten me. It is why I don't feel authentic or as if I really exist (as a person rather than a being if that makes any sense). I am grateful for the awareness which makes it easier for me to stay away from people or keep some emotional distance. Yes I know, someone could love me., but I do not believe someone should have to endure me to love me so until I "defeat" the borderline, that is what it will be.

Except that I don't believe the borderline can be defeated - maybe controlled to the point of submission, but not defeated. It might matter to me if I had kids; they deserve for us to fight up until the very last moment whether that moment comes from external factors or internal factors. But I have got no one. Well not true. Right now I am living for my mom. My mom may have been the crux of most of my issues and she may have even "caused" the borderline (people believe it is a combo of nature & nurture), but she didn't deserve the sheer evil I put her through at it's worst. The only way I can see to make amends is to survive because if I don't I know it would kill her.

With all the recent deaths in my life of older people it has me thinking of the potential to lose my mom. It has me wondering (just wondering mind you, not worrying) about what will happen when she dies to my mental state. Not that her death will send me over the edge but that it was the line in the sand I drew between myself and succumbing to the darkness. It seemed so far away when I first said it, but time has snuck up or sped up on me (perhaps a result of not being in the deepest, darkest throes of depression) and it seems closer. There is no emotional reaction to the realization - just the realization.