A link.

Here you go. A link about multiplicity.

Mind you: Everyone is singular and different and so this is just...well, it's a layman's guide.

http://www.karitas.net/blackbirds/layman/whatis.html

Please read it.

Creature, creature that I see, you live too deep inside of me.

So recently I had another Borderline rage attack. It used to be that it would happen monthly, and now it's generally a yearly event. The fact that I've got this much more control then I used to, it's comforting.

Of course, the rage always throws me off for a while. It's weird. It's like having this feral creature that resides so deep in me that most of the time the only that gets out is a little snappy behavior, the occasional bitchy moment. Things like that. But when I lose control, when that rage takes over its almost like being possessed.

It cannot be stopped, it cannot be controlled, it cannot be changed, or derailed. It will overtake me and it will turn me into a totally different person. And it's so exhausting.

I screamed, kicked, clawed, twisted and turned and wailed. I bit and spat and hissed. I threatened and cursed, and growled. I fought like an animal caged. I was vicious and cruel.

And there is a small part of me that is so very relieved when it happened. Because my temper keeps me more cautious then I probably should be. It's a treacherous line to toe. Because if I allow the beast to reach out when it chooses, in small doses, I'm not sure that it won't gain too much strength for me to handle.

So instead I keep it bound, and when it lashes out, it is not the way it used to be. I remember now, bits and pieces of my rage, where before I remembered nothing. I can articulate what I need now, when before I could only scream.

Each day is a small, quiet battle that no one even sees. It's a vicious, brutal battle. It's waged deep in my mind, heart, and soul. So under the surface of my skin, there is a battle of epic proportions. And no one gets to see it, except me.

So here I am, battling a force of nature deep within my core. Something that is probably a thousand times stronger then I am. The fact that I'm still hanging on surprises the hell out of me.

I survive on the tiny victories. The little things. Not screaming when I want to, not throwing a punch every time I get mad, not demanding blood for my tears. It's the little tiny things that matter to me. The tiny little victories.

I wish I could convey to you how much it takes, how much I need those moments, and how terribly hurt I get when people take those away from me.

The only thing between you and me is the wall I jealously guard

The last couple of days have been a curious series of events. And I'm not sure how to feel about any of it. Actually, that isn't even true. I know how I felt.

I've been swinging violently from the highest of highs, to the most absurd rages. Just total anger for no real reason. There isn't a real reason for it, things are actually going fairly well in my life.

I've recently hooked up with an old childhood friend, Mat and I have been arguing very little, I've been doing people's hair, I've been out and active fairly regularly.

But maybe this is the problem. Maybe it's that I've stepped too far away from where I'm used to residing.

I was going to make today's blog entry about makeup and clothes. About the different masks and armor I have worn to protect me from the people who surround me. And I think I'll touch on that.

So here's the thing...I've always been different. I've been everything from a drama queen to a quiet lurker. And in school I had a very small group of people who stuck by my side, for the most part I was disliked, treated with disdain. Treated like a carrier of the plague. I've always been different and awkward. For many reasons.

First of all, in my childhood my family were Jehovah's Witnesses. And let me tell you, being raised in the equivalent of a cult (especially in a small town in the Midwest) is one hell of a way to turn a kid into an outcast.

But on top of that, I'd been home-schooled until I was of 5th grade age, but stayed behind a year because I just didn't get everything, and my social skills were lacking.

And the crowning sign that screamed 'DIFFERENT!' was that I behaved differently, I expressed myself differently.

My teenage years were hell. Picked on, teased, bullied, attacked, ostracized, and spoken down to... Ignored, unwanted. You bet.

I wasn't ever asked to go to parties, go to dances, or even to dance when I went. I wasn't asked out by people. The few boyfriends I had between middle school were guys I asked out, and its an embarrassingly small number.

So, when the actual outcast thing started to kick in, I suited up every day in my 'armor'. First it was the goth clothing.

A slouchy looking set of bondage pants (almost always in black), some sassy, dark t-shirt (occasionally a tank top or long sleeve), huge hoodies, and either massive boots or skater shoes. To be fair, occasionally I woke massive, angry looking boy-styled bondage pants too. Always full of chains and straps.

Then I discovered the jewelery. Angry looking leather bracelets, rings on multiple fingers, chokers and chunky necklaces.

My hair was dyed every color under the sun, each other more outrageous then the last. And I almost always wore it down, unless my depression got so bad that I let my hygiene slipped and I was gross. Then it was yay pony tail.

When I wore makeup it was either elaborate and uncanny looking, or it was smudged darkness around my eyes, and a pale glow to my skin, with too dark lips.

With my headphones on my head and a dark backpack low on my back, a sullen and almost violent look brewing on my features, and an angry gait you've got me in highschool.

I wasn't happy, I was bullied and treated like shit. But I lashed back out at the people who called me names. For every time I was called I freak, I yelled out that they were sheep. For every time I was called a bitch, I sneered out that they were pathetic. They'd get in my face, and I'd get right back in theirs. I wasn't gonna take it laying down, after all. Plus, it was a good way to take out some anger.

I recall in my freshman year, some senior got right into my face and called me something. I didn't hear it, but I heard the tone, the one they used for every time I got called bitch, slut, freak, fat, ugly, stupid, cunt, whore... And I stepped toe to toe with him, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that his life meant nothing to me, and if he died a horrific death, I wouldn't even laugh because he was worth so little to me, I doubt I'd acknowledge his demise. His face drained of blood. And I walked away.

But under all that anger at their treatment, I believed them. And that was why I was so angry, why I'm still angry. Because I can't look at my body and not feel let down, and even disgusted. I am frequently heard saying that I'm better looking with my clothes on.

After those years, I believed I was ugly, fat, stupid, unwanted, horrible, and even that I was a tease.

And this isn't okay. Because to be totally honest, there is very little that can convince me otherwise. On my best days, when I see myself all I think is, "Well, I'm not ugly."

Here's a Youtube Vid I found...I think it's very powerful. It brought me to tears when I watched it because...I got it.


But now...

Time to SWITCH directions!

So even though things have been going well, there have been a number of anger outbursts, and I'm so exhausted.

See here's the thing...when I have a bad spell, though it sucks, it's actually fairly mellow...I've got a long period of time when I feel like shit and I hate life...but it's consistent.

When life is good, I have more anger outbursts, and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, so when it does...I'm devastated.

I'm so fucking tired. So tired and just wrung out that I almost cut today. For the first time in AGES....

I'm holding it off. Hopefully I can until the desire passes, or until something distracts me, but here I am. Another fucking battle.

And even though tonight I will fall asleep, I'll wake up to the same fucking battle tomorrow.

I'm so tired.

I should go try to sleep. It's like 3 in the morning.

I don't feel like I'm strong enough...

I went in the other day to get my tattoo...It's a Celtic tree of life that looks like a cross between a tree and a pendant. Of course, it's all grayscale. But the words "Love As Thou Wilt" are around the top of it. It's painfully lovely to my eyes, and to the eyes of those who know me, and understand what it means.

The tree of life, over where my heart resides to remind me that all the shit I've been through strengthens my roots, allowing me to reach towards the sun, and the sun which I bask in continues to allow me to sink strong roots, and I continue to grow. And it never ends. Because, "Even a stunted tree reaches for sunlight." as Prince Imriel de la Courcel‎ was able to discover in Kusheil's Scion (By Jacqueline Carey)

And that's me. I may be stunted from the terrible events that litter my life, from the personality disorder that makes my world terrifying and exhausting but I continue to reach for the sun.


The three hours I spent under the tattoo needles were a little bit of a benediction. This symbol that I now wear upon my skin that proclaim the horror of my childhood, the strength that I now possess, the delicate shoots of growth that I continue to put out, it all speaks to the need I have to remember that life never ends, and I am going to be part of the change.

The words Love As Thou Wilt were actually the least painful part of the process, and I found a bit of humor in that. That's the one part where I've never had trouble...Loving freely, as I find best, loving without fear. I've never been afraid of who my heart draws me to, be it a friend or a lover.


The sort of pain that came from the tattoo was actually very similar to that which I'd experience when I used to cut. It had that same sort of relaxing release. It took all the bundled nerves and anxious tension I had wound up inside me from weeks of just living my life and it let it seep out into the air around me.

I think, if it were not quite so expensive, I'd be in for tattoos all the time. Because everything I'd get would be punctuation for my life, and full of meaning. And the process is a massive release.

That which yields is not always weak.

There exists a series of books, by Jacqueline Carey, that speak to me very deeply. And I think that a number of aspects would speak to all of us who live with Borderline Personality Disorder. I also think it would speak to most all of humanity, on some level or another.

Those who know me know that I have a great capacity for love. They also know that I am capable of great forgiveness. I feel as if they go hand in hand. I feel like you can't have one without the other.

In the Kushiel's Legacy series the main characters are often those who are capable of great emotions. Great love, deep hate, huge forgiveness, massive heroism. Which, if you've ever known a Borderliner, is often the case in my life. Because we can't moderate our emotions, we live from one nerve sizzling intense emotion to the next. Flipping swiftly from adoration to loathing almost effortlessly, and in an impossibly short amount of time.

"When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me" - Phèdre nó Delaunay (Kushiel's Dart)

Isn't that just the case of it all, for us? To feel cast out by all that is good, and for cruelty itself to have taken you in? To find a sort of pleasure in the pain we inflict on ourselves, on the pain inflicted upon us by others. We become pain-bearers. Capable of bearing the excess pain of the world, and offering up forgiveness unconditionally.

The sacred precept of these books, the foundation of the entire tapestry is so simple, so elegant, so very, very hard. "Love as thou wilt."

When I read that line for the first time, my heart chords were plucked into life. Yes. That is the mantra of my life. Love.

And even still these books said the things that lived in my heart that I could not put words to.

"Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel. "

If war and conflict were to walk away from me, I would smile. If love were to leave, I would be felled.

And now the quote that shook my foundation to the bits.

"We are all these things [...]. Pride, desire, compassion, cleverness, belligerence, fruitfulness, loyalty...and guilt. But above it all stands love. And if we desire to be more than human, that is the star by which we must set our sights. "

These emotions control our lives, and for those of us with borderline, it's even more complex, more intense. We cannot cut these emotions away from ourselves, because we *ARE* these emotions. I am a creature of emotion, flighty, whimsical, child-like.

But love. That is so hard for us to bear.

If I can guide myself by the star of love then I am less lost to the maelstrom of my emotions.

This is how I choose to deal with my disorder.

Because though I bend, though I may yield, I do not break, and I am not weak.

And if you can find it in your heart to love me, I will always be greatful

The one thing I can't get over is the capacity for love that my fellow humans have. I realize that not everyone is going to understand, or be willing to accept me and all my faults and flaws and issues. And I'm okay with that. But for those of you who do...Those of you who read this and you feel your hearts swell a little bit with pride, respect, admiration or love....That means the world to me.

The constant terror and heartache that I live in, it's enough to drive a saint to suicide, but the love I get returned to me is so wonderful.

Today is the 4th of July and I've been thinking about a number of things, including, but not limited to, the people I've been blessed, and cursed, with.

On the one side, I have wonderful people who can look at me, broken pieces and all, and find something beautiful and worth loving. The ones who see all the twisted parts, the shattered bits, the darkness and complications and they're so tender and forgiving with me. They just allow me to be who I am and they don't expect anything from me. Nothing except what I have to offer. And that simple acceptance is the most amazing gift.

On the other hand, I've been cursed with those who judge, condemn and expect me to just 'make it go away', 'make it stop' or to even just 'turn it off' as if any of those options are available to me. Trust you me, if I could, for even an hour, be something other then what I am, to be able to make the Borderline go away, I would. No questions asked. Because I would love to experience life without all the stings attached, without all the fall backs, and tricks and traps.

So to those of you who allow me the freedom of just being me, no strings attached...Thank you. You're the reason I'm doing this, to allow you to come inside my mind, my soul, my life and see the world through my eyes.

Without you, I would no be.

Because without you, I would have no reason to be.