Putting Yourself First aka The You Matter Too Blog

I’ve always seen my own value through the eyes of others. I’ve tried to be the best friend/confidant I can be. I take pride on always being there for my loved ones, my friends, hell even strangers. I don’t like knowing anyone is suffering or in pain. I like to think the best thing about me is my compassion, my empathy for others.

Mind you, I haven’t always been the best friend either. There’s been plenty of times I’ve had my head stuck up my own ass that I couldn’t see outside my walls and bubbles I live in when the time calls for it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. But sometimes I have to put myself first.

In fact, I should do it more often. Continue reading

Distractions aka You can’t hide forever

As those who have been reading my blogs as of late can attest, I have been going through a bit lately especially in regards to emotional instability. I haven’t been like this in what feels like ages. Maybe this is what I get for not taking my meds for a few days.

Anyway, I’ve been devoting a lot of my time to trying to find ways to think about something else.. hell anything else really. I’ve discovered some awesome new bloggers on WordPress, and also been channeling all of the anxiety and tension and god awful neediness into writing more and more. In fact, I haven’t written this much in ages. So I have that to be thankful for at least.

Continue reading

Journeys and Adventure aka the BPD love blog :P

bfmh14-copy2Hey guys, how is everybody doing?

Well today I’ve decided to write about struggles of self, self image and what people with mental illness often deem as their own insignificance. I also like to call it my invisibility powers. One of the biggest problems I have is with my self image is inexplicably linked with my insecurity and self-confidence. I often in my own desire to love and acceptance tend to try too hard if that makes sense. As much as I’d like to be able to “play it cool” I just don’t seem to have it in me. I know I’m not really invisible, but it feels like it sometimes. And all this reflection was triggered by an interest in a particular lady.. and an episode of Doctor Who.

This one gets a little personal folks, so don’t read if you don’t want to know. You’ve been warned.  Continue reading

A letter to my 18 year old self

Hey guys,

I found an awesome blog, found at http://hereismars.wordpress.com/ and it inspired me to do something myself. Check it out, it’s really great.

So yeah, here goes. Continue reading

Heartache, Hopelessness, Hypocrisy and the Power of Love

I’m sorry in advance for all of this self-indulgent nonsense. I wrote this over the space of a day, whereas earlier in the day, the emotions were still very raw, and later I was able to approach it will less passion. I was gutted all day today. Hearing the story of Olivia Penpraze just got to me. How on earth could people let such a beautiful young girl go like that. She’d be looking for help for so long, and still she left us. I felt a real kinship with her story, and it really made me lose hope.

I cried for a long time as the tragedy sunk in. I feel as a society, we failed her. And her story is not unique. It happens all over the world every single day. And it’s not good enough.

Continue reading

Living with Hypersexuality and Ranting

Hey all,

Well today I’m going to go into what it’s like living with hypersexuality. This is going to get a little into the “too much information” category, and you have been warned.  Continue reading

Things I am most afraid of…

Wow I know what you’re thinking. Two posts in a single day?

Well, sorry in advance for the overload, both of your respective feeds and also your brains. But I just finished reading a blog over at http://halfwaybetweenthegutter.wordpress.com/ and it inspired me.

It really got me thinking. What exactly do I want to do with this blog? To be perfectly honest, it started because I needed somewhere to vent. I’ve been holding on to all this pain for so long and I just had to find an outlet that was healthier that sex, drugs and alcohol. Before, I didn’t know what was wrong with me, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was feeling different.

But now I want better for myself. I want to be able to have a resemblance of a normal life. I want a healthy relationship full of passion, communication and understanding.

So I’m going to try to educate people, and hope that I can make a difference. Even if I reach one person, it will all be worth it…

So yeah on to business. Continue reading

A Confession…

Hey all,

It’s 6am, and I really need to talk to someone. So I’m going to write this as if I’m talking to you about it.

My name is Adam and I have a drinking problem. It’s not frequency that is the issue, I don’t really drink that often (though I do have my moments) but it’s more unhealthy drinking practices. I drink on an empty stomach, and it’s not like I’m an abusive drunk. It’s the memory blanks and the shame that’s the hardest thing to deal with. It’s the fact that at the end of the day, I’m always going to be me…

Why do I hide myself from the world? Maybe it’s because I rarely feel like I’m an actual part of it. It’s really hard to explain, but I’m going to try. When I drink, I just find it easier to express myself emotionally with people whom I love. Besides “her” there’s honestly no one else I can open up to like that in a sober way. It’s really sad actually. But at the same time, what we have is special. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Being bipolar makes emotions hard to accept and handle. Everything I feel is in extremes. Happiness, Sadness.. all of the above. It creates a wedge between myself and everyone else. It makes me feel like I’m damaged inside. Like the real me is hiding deep down. I’ve been hiding and escaping for my whole life. I don’t understand how I became this way. I hate myself in a way. I hate that I’ve been hiding behind these goddamn walls and masks for as long as I can remember. It’s easy when I drink to be charming and funny. To be someone other people can like. I just feel so… different from most people. It’s hard feeling so misunderstood.

I hate that I can only feel comfortable around a few people. I hate that only “she” makes me feel human.

I’m tired of hiding behind a mask. I’m going to tell you about the first time I started wearing a mask in the “outside world”

It started as a kid, having to be affectionate and protective of my mother and sister when growing up with an abusive alcoholic father. It gave me purpose, to be the rock they needed me to be. It was just so much easier to be who they needed at the time. It was going to school with a black eye and having to pretend everything at home was normal. It was being terrified of my father. And it took my sister almost dying to find some assertiveness and finding the courage to fight back against the man who I hated so much.  I’ve never felt so strong and so proud of myself as I did in that moment, when I stood in front of my father and swore to give up my life to protect my family. Obviously it’s still effecting me…I’ve always found my worth in others. I like who I am, at least I think I do. Because I know the man who lies deep down inside me. I would hide away in my room and as a 31-year-old man, I’m still that little boy. Hiding from the world. This time, the hiding place is the one place that no one can hurt me. Inside my head.

Truly, it’s those whom you let into you’re heart that hurt you the most.

The first time I ever really got my heart seriously broken… people said I changed. And it’s true. I did change. It was the relationship that I gave and gave and gave and it still turned to shit, that I was going to look after myself. I really do have so much to give, but I can’t allow myself to give away that part of me to just anyone. It hurts far too much when it goes bad. And I don’t have a knight in shining armour to come and save me. So I’m going to save myself. After that, the allure of the protective walls was almost too hard to deny. A few years ago, I used to wrap it up in stories and lies created to simply allow others to like me. But deep down I would resent them for not liking the real me, just this “pretender” who wore my skin and spoke with my voice. I wanted to show them the real guy inside all the bullshit, but it’s these damn walls I’ve been constructing and the masks I’ve hid myself behind that are hard to get past.

I know things can go bad. It’s a part of life. But I guess deep down I blame myself for all of it. I blame myself for letting someone hurt me, whether it be a girl, my father or someone else. but really you can’t hide your heart from the world. There’s so much to miss if you do. You’ll spend your life wondering “What If?” otherwise. I know what I want to do, but I just don’t know if I can. All the roads point to somewhere else. Away from here,  a new life. I want to reboot my life… Start over somewhere new. A new place, a new me. But I know it’s all just a pipe dream. I’m trying so hard to make some sense of it all. It’s a work in progress.

A friend said I need to find some self-worth. And she’s right… it’s true. I find my worth with her, and my friends. But I feel like everything I touch, turns to shit. Like everything I desire most in the world isn’t destined for me. I feel like I’m not meant to be happy. Like it was part of my design, like a piece missing and I’m destined to forever chase that piece of me that is missing. I used to chase the feeling with sex, drugs and alcohol. But I didn’t want to be that guy anymore, because it was all so empty. Nothing ever makes me feel fulfilled, besides writing and “her” it’s so damn frustrating. I just want to feel like it’s okay to be me. Damaged and all. I am how I am… I like to tell myself. But honestly, I’m not happy with how things are. I’m still haunted by a life I’ve been trying to escape from. I want to feel something normal, but I don’t know if I ever can be.

But I have to learn to accept that. Maybe someday, you all can too.

Mum and some close friends have always been worried that I’ll kill myself. I’ve attempted suicide before, and as much as I romanticized it, when I woke up in the morning.. I came to realize that I didn’t really want to die. I just didn’t want to feel… this. I love being alive and mostly because I have love and hope in my heart. Hope that one day maybe soon, maybe not, that I will find that place inside myself. I just want to be happy. I don’t want to not feel like such a fuck up.

I guess I’m just waiting for that moment again. When I can step up and prove I’m worth a damn. I am just so tired of feeling so damn alone in this world.

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A crisis of faith… A loss of consciousness.

Just a quick warning before any of you start reading. A disclaimer of sorts.

I’ve been low lately. In fact, I haven’t felt this way in a long long time. Life has taken on a more desperate turn, like muscle memory or something more instinctual. Or perhaps I’m just growing tired of the whole thing. I am stuck in a horrible rut and I don’t see a way out. Nothing feasible nor effective enough. I’m not going to do anything stupid, but I needed to get all this shit out of my head. I’ve been stirring in it for the past few days and this is all I can do to get it all off my chest.

You know when people ask how you are, and they really dont want to know, they’re just being polite? Well that’s how i feel when most people ask me. I dont want to tell them, and I dont want them to push me to open up, if only to appease their conscience. In truth, I kinda live in darkness. In a way… I am the darkness. And it embraces me. And in the end of all things, it is all I have.

It is a friend. The void cares not for my ugliness, my looks and my inability to find connection with life and to the rest of humanity. For the inability to find purpose in existence is all encompassing. I cannot fathom a god or divine being, which would see me suffer in such a way. I find that faith in the “almighty” slipping, and my faltering strength and faith in the reasoning of my own existence. I was taught that even when I am alone, god is always with me and loves me no matter what. But the truth is simple.

There is no god… And if there is, he/she simply doesn’t care.

I know I’m being stupid, but do not get me wrong. I do not feel sorry for myself, and I do not want your fucking pity. I do not want you to take action and make the effort to talk with me, because to be honest it all feels a little fake to me. Sorta reminds me of when you see family at Christmas and they say how much they’ve missed you.. Well if they missed you so much, how hard is it to pick up the phone?

I do not wish to give in to despair so willingly. Yet it feels as if to endure is something I am no longer sure I can do. I have been alone, and felt alone almost every single moment in my life. From the very moment of my birth, I have felt as an outcast, devoid of so many things. Rejected by my father, all the years he beat me broke my bones, spurned me of something that I have forever craved in my heart. It’s why I keep things so close to my chest, for who could understand what has happened to me? But I want more than anything else, to understand what it feels like to really and absolutely trust somebody. I really do….

In a sad way… I pray for apathy to set in. Because feeling is something I do in abundance. I wish I could just turn it all off. I’m tired of “feeling”. I don’t know if there is no fix to this sort of fucked up. I feel like maybe I am broken on the inside, forever searching for a means to feel whole. I’ve shed so many of my “bad habits” as a means of self improvement, and while I am a lot more content in my own skin, without all those meaningless distractions, I’ve come to realize something… I don’t like myself very much. But you know, I’d really like to…

I wrap myself in stories and fake bravado, but its easy to pretend “I’m the man” than it is to just be me. Everything in way is a performance. Like I become a character of sorts.

I wrote a long time ago about masks. Well it seems I have masks that exist under masks. I’ve tried to stay true to myself and those whom I love, but what else can I do when everything I see leads me to one forgone conclusion? I can’t see a single thing about myself that I want to show anyone (it’s all either boring, depressing or fucked up) and I don’t want to share anything. I wish I was interesting. I don’t have any amazing tales nor have I been on any adventures worth a damn, all I’ve done all my whole entire life… is survive. And I don’t think I want to just survive anymore… Survival is not living. And whats the point in surviving if every day is the same as the next?

I just want to find some peace, some measure of serenity. I want to quiet the voices in my head. (Okay, for the record, I do not hear actual voices in my head.) I fear that I am not destined for such things. I want to be able to be honest. I want to share myself, all the good and great things about me, I want to share my darkness and find that perhaps I’m not so scary. For someone at least, I’m not putting all my hope in love, nor companionship. Nor am I defining my life by its pursuit either.

I seek the love and acceptance of my life. From myself more than anything else… To know that for all the hardships I have been through was for some sort of purpose. I don’t always believe I was put here to suffer. Or that I am meant to accomplish great things. But I just want to feel like I’m meant to do something, because I cannot live like this. I feel like I have forever been rejected. My heart is breaking, and I don’t see a way to mend it. I just wish it didn’t feel that way. I am no longer able to imagine a life that doesn’t end like this one. I do not see a sun shining for me. I find others on the rarest of occasions, I find the slightest of connection, yet all it does is reminds me that I am alone.

How can I exist when no one understands me?

Perhaps I am not destined for love, happiness or joy…I cannot escape the past and what was done to me, nor can I forget it. Any chance to be “normal” has long since passed.

I’m okay with being “abnormal” in fact, I like being different. But I just wish it felt better than this.

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