Confessions of a grown woman

Christina is a graduate student of linguistics and anthropology. She loves to rock climb and be with dogs. She's been diagnosed with anxiety disorders, depression and borderline personality disorder for the past three years, and began writing in the hopes of making her experiences accessible to everyone else, to help the world see what it felt like. You can find her full blog collection at ardentmarbles.

I hear bumps in the night. I keep my phone and occasionally some kind of blunt object under my pillow. I warn people on nights I’m fairly sure I’ll have nightmares and will want to call them, wake them, and talk it out. I have superstitious procedures, followed to the letter, about nightly routines. I won’t look at a mirror in the dark.

When asleep next to someone, or near someone, all these fears are mitigated and micro-sized. When I sleep alone, I order a supersize me night terror menu.

Patrick leaves in 2 days, for a week long conference. I am a grown woman, dammit! … No, I am afraid.

Last night I talked to Patrick on the phone about the weekend. We’d had some vague ideas, but no plan set. As a favour to a friend, and for fun, and for work, he’s working 12 hours today, and another 8 tomorrow. Further, a friend of his just popped into town, and the only chance they’ll get to hang out is the last evening before Patrick leaves, tomorrow night.

I am happy he gets to have more work! I am happy he gets to have a change of pace! I am very happy he gets to see an old high school friend!

But I feel abandoned. I feel as if he’s already left. Suddenly the departure date feels half a week earlier, and I’m already alone.

So there we are on the phone and the best I can muster is, “So you know how we should always be open about our feelings and we shouldn’t hold anything in? I’m kind of crying right now and upset and it’s-not-your-fault-at-all-it’s-me but I just thought I should say so it didn’t fester-I’m-sorry.”

People with BPD should never be politicians. Tact is a bit foreign to emotional sensibilities.

Patrick was remarkably unsympathetic. It surprised me more than the change in plans. He was, and is, attempting to stop pretending that he feels sorry about it, because in reality he doesn’t get why I feel that way. Which is ok! He’s trying to pull back the baby blanket. Which is great, because it means he thinks I can deal.

I can’t deal.

Moan, emotional wave, moan, sigh, cry, ack. I need a dog.

I rely on Patrick. He’s insanely good. He’s nice about it, he doesn’t bring it up, he lets me be dependent. But we both know I need weaning.

We both need time to ourselves. My goodness, we need time to ourselves. After two years of being together, living together, working together, going out together, and more, we’re finally starting to get a bit bored with each other. After two years of patience, he’s finally pulling at the bit.

Plus he will have a blast at the conference, meet a lot of neat people and it’s only one week. I just continue to whine because it’s hard to have time to yourself when the only thing protecting yourself from yourself is your partner. The only thing keeping myself in one piece is my partner.

Stop bloody crying! And this is not just judgmental mind, this is reasonable mind telling you to get on the bloody horse!

OK! So this is me with my finger in the air and I have Just The Thing. This is an Opportunity.

I’ve already taken the Opportunity of his 12 hour day at work to clean the entire closet. I will use the rest of this week as an Opportunity – See if I Don’t!

1)    Hang out with friends.

2)    Play video games.

3)    Keep the dishes clean instead of letting them soak.

4)    Go shopping for drawers to organize things.

5)    Read Everything.

6)    Practice piano without embarrassment.

7)    Spend more time than is reasonable at my family’s house as a back up plan!

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