“As long as you make an identity for yourself out of pain, you cannot be free of it.” ~Eckhart Tolle

Three years of frustration. Three years of trying to climb what seemed an insurmountable obstacle. Three years in absolute limbo – regardless of how many times I pretended I wasn’t.

Three years to finally accept that I am not me. I’ve been pretending for almost half a century.

Exhilarating… freeing… liberating. Phrases one hears continually on these kinds of sites. That is not at all what I feel.

Shame (I don’t even know for what) Guilt (Just how much has my stubbornness cost me?) Terror (There is no way in Hell I can compete – or even catch up…. I’m already doomed.)

I should submit up front that I’ve self-diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder. I have all the symptoms (****starred entries are my experience of the symptom****) to a severe degree:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (****Breaking up with me will be the most painful and embarrassing experience of your life – everyone else can forget arms distance – scream at me from down the block****)
A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation (****I can barely speak to my own mother; friendships rarely last 6 months; employment never more than 2 years****)
Identity disturbance, such as a significant and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self (****There is no self, so why try to be one? Besides, the one I was dealt sucks****)
Impulsive in at least two (**** Bwahahaha! I could list 30 off the top of my head!****) areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)
Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior (****Yup, yup, yup, and nope. I can take any pain from necessity, but never on purpose – except, I guess, the obvious one I’ve been causing myself****)
Emotional instability due to significant reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days) (****Couldn’t tell you. I learned at a VERY young age that emotions couldn’t be trusted – so I ignore mine, which is why I never know what I feel, ever…. it’s all in there at once.****)
Chronic feelings of emptiness (****Well Duh! (re-read my comments above!****))
Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights) (****Yes, mostly, nope – my brainwashing won’t allow it – “if you ain’t mad enough to kill him, you ain’t mad enough to swing. If you swing, make sure you kill him.”****)
Transient, stress-related paranoid thoughts or severe dissociative symptoms (****Just ’cause you’re paranoid don’t mean you’re wrong… so, nope, not transient.****)

I do feel – I try to convince myself I don’t, or it’s irrelevant. But I do, and sitting here staring at how much damage needs to be repaired I despair at how little time remains.

What to address first?

Work? Which part? The fact that I view capitalism as being responsible for far more injustice than it corrects, and that to participate makes you guilty of injustice? Or maybe the fact that I have the attention span of a hyperactive two-year old on speed? I have performed at better than average levels at everything I have ever tried, from moving the deceased to kitchen manager of a restaurant, to Alberta cattle hand to special-needs worker and many, many more. And am bored to death very quickly by them all.

Relationships? I’d first have to address my emotional intelligence defects – and I’m not yet sure I want to; the level of vulnerability I understand to be required is not something I’m sure would be worth the reward….. of course I can’t know that without trying. I have to take your word for it. Trust…… yeah, an issue.

Body? I guess I’ve started at this one, a bit. Have begun a consistent exercise routine, am in the process of weaning myself off cigarettes, and smoke next to no drugs any more. I fear repeating past patterns – routine is death for me so no idea how long any of it will last.

Mind? I already crave knowledge – too much so. I can’t remain on topic for very long.

Spirit? I saved this for last on purpose. I think most could agree on the following definition:

“…deals with your conscience, values, and principles. It also deals with your relationship with the infinite. Your spirituality is where your life purpose and meaning comes from.”

Until very recently I was not at all conscious. Every word, every action, and every thought has for more than four decades been nothing more than a knee-jerk response to emotion – primarily avoiding it.

Of values I have only one: fairness. And God help you if I perceive you to not be, ’cause then I won’t be…. and I’m MUCH better at that than you are. I have impeccable principles so long as you seem to hold the same in my eyes. Everyone fails before I do. Everyone. And no, I don’t believe I ever would first – again, my brain-washing won’t allow it.

Relationship with the infinite. I don’t have one. For three years, almost daily, I have tried meditation. Only recently have I achieved an ability – frustratingly sporadic – to be a detached observer of my thoughts, let alone feel connected to anything. To feel connected to “All” one would also have to submit to connecting with the worst of what humanity has to offer – and I get overwhelmed watching a group of people on t.v. having fun. Playfulness isn’t a concept I can understand, nor emulate.

Misanthropic doesn’t come close to describing me.

Purpose? Meaning? My reading so far is convincing me that there is none other than what you make for yourself. And that feels horrifically worthless to me.

Daddy issues…. sigh. Forgiving him is gonna be a tough one. I think I’d sooner drink the poison – if he is “watching” from somewhere, I hope watching me is tearing him apart. If he’s not watching, then I hope it’s ’cause Hell is real.

Where to begin? What to fix? How to unravel the damage when I can’t find it in me to trust (in person…. this damned pseudo-anonymity of the internet is gonna cause me grief at some point, I just know it. So why can’t I stop myself when it has been so easy to in every other sphere of my life?

A quick one minute look inside told me…

….despite the terror, despite the agonizingly slow progress, despite my continued self-assurances that this too shall fail…..

some part of me sees hope.

I so want to be free of my pain identity. But I can’t see anything to replace it with. It “feels” like it’s me.

Why’d I write this? I don’t know. Compulsion. It’s the only reason I seem able to do anything.