shiny, shiny, bad times behind me...?

In the middle of Week 3 of my new "relationship" and it seems like all is well. As well as can be expected when you factor in my general insecurities and mentalness and the fact that he is by-and-large used to his own company. I still enjoy every minute we're together, and try not to ruin every minute we're apart with my incessant ponderings/stress attacks. Being vulnerable again after a time spent solo is such a big deal, as described here in this terrific post by Ruby Tuesday. I don't think I am particularly adept at it, the raunching and relaxing with someone...it's been quite some time since I was last intimate with anyone, and 12 years since I was last with someone new. Having to negotiate the likes/dislikes and (ahem) nooks and crannies is definitely a learning curve, but I am giving it the old college try! The payoff is worth it, naturally, and I imagine that the closeness and comfort we find in each other means that the relationship is also worth it. I am trying hard to avoid Future Speculation. It's early days, and there are some fairly substantial issues we have to negotiate before any talk of Happy Ever After. But Happy Right Now - that I can do.

Doc A was surprised and happy to find that since we'd last met I had started seeing someone seriously. I saw him on Monday and he was full of constructive advice, naturally, especially about making sure that I maintain the other parts of my life that are non-Lloyd-related. He said something like "only one sixth of you is the part in the relationship, the other 5/6 are doing their own thing". Which is fine in practise but truly difficult to achieve in real terms. I have to fight the impulse that says we need to be with each other all the time, and share every damn thing. I have to curb the tendency I have to share every minute detail with him and with everyone else ABOUT him. I have to maintain perspective and rationality and composure and good sense and try to be in my Wise Mind. But part of me wants to lose myself completely and love unreservedly and dive head first. I think this is an ongoing struggle, and one I need to keep an eye on. It feels like I have to be suspicious of feeling too good, but also suspicious of the Negative Nancy voice that tries to sabotage and second guess. Yikes. It was certainly easier in many ways to live a solo, single, simple life.

I wouldn't trade him for anything, though. It's wonderful to talk and laugh with someone special, and to be cuddled by a 6ft 7 in giant of a man makes me feel like a delicate flower lol. Even if it lasts but a minute, I am happy.

you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess*

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and although I spent it in an untraditional setting, I did get to spend it with my favourite man. It's almost impossible to believe it's been just over a week since we met. Things are moving fast, but with purpose, you know? Like there's something strong at the core, and the surface is just there for it's own sake. Whether we go here or there, say this or that, the connection transcends everything. Last night he said to me it's like we've skipped the casual dating and are already close/committed. I try to hold back and put on the brakes, because that's what I'm "supposed" to do (build trust, get to understand him, delay sex, yada yada) but what feels right is to just give myself over to the experience and enjoy every minute we have together.

Whether this backfires and ends up hurting like hell, well, that remains to be seen. The way my heart works, it wouldn't matter how many hours we'd spent together or what intimacy we had or hadn't shared. If I like him, and it goes sour, it hurts. SO I may as well go with it, and risk my heart. It won't kill me! I feel surprisingly strong, too, as though a bad result won't derail me and undo all the good I've done in therapy over the last year. I haven't breached the mentalness subject except for mentioning I've suffered depression (so has he), but other than that I've been extremely honest about what I want and how I feel. It's well-received by him, and reciprocated... and I think the honest rapport we have is one of the reasons I'm confident.

It's so hard to know whether to be a romantic and just believe, or to be a cynic and just mistrust. I think a mixture of the two is probably the best outcome. I'm a bit of a true believer when it comes to love, though, and it feels SO AMAZING to be at the start of something that may be worth believing in. Valentine's Day rocked this year, and it's hard to picture being happier than I was eating chocolate and watching the sunset with my baby...

(*Taylor Swift - "Love Story")

the story is old, I know, but it goes on*

A friend of mine, John at www.myranting.co.uk, wrote a short story once that said, in part : There's just something missing right now. I'm not sure what it is. But whatever it is, it's not fuckin' there. A big void in my soul that I've tried to fill with every single kind of nonsense that I can possibly think of. This statement has always struck a chord with me, as it describes the way I've felt all my life. It explains SO MANY poor choices...the wrong men I pursued, in the wrong ways...the terrible/wonderful substances with which I've abused my body...the obsessions, hobbies, compulsions, images, personas, vendettas, friendships, all of which inevitably failed to fill that void that I call the Big BPD Empty.

It's only now, nine months after my official diagnosis with Borderline Personality Disorder, that I am starting to feel the void getting smaller. And it's amazing to me that I never realised the way to heal my heart was from the inside out. Always wanting to push/shove/stuff things IN to myself, there wasn't room for the growth of what wanted to come OUT. That sounds slightly gross, lol, I swear this isn't one of my posts about bodily functions! I guess what I am trying, poorly, to say is that all along the substance that was needed to fill my Big Empty was stuff that already existed in ME. It's not one thing, it seems to be a grunge-coloured mixture of fury, joy, terror and rapture at the moment... but it's definitely true and real and all that hippy stuff haha. It seems like the more work I do at finding out how I really feel and think about things (my self, my life), the less that void threatens to engulf me.

I had my last session with Dr A this week before his month-long vacation - now I'm flying solo for four weeks, when I usually see him once a week. I think it's a good opportunity for me to see how I travel without him to keep me on track, and maybe it will all go down the tubes by the end of October but there's a good chance it won't. Although I've never been a member of AA I know enough to be able to quote one of the sayings of the 12 Steppers - "it works if you work it". That definitely applies to my battle against the Big Empty. Even though sometimes I would rather stay in bed and/or drink gin and/or eat a truckload of junkfood and/or pull my hair out by the handful I know that the hard work is where the reward lies. Damn it.

(*The Smiths - Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me)

when one's heart is in the way

I had a phone call from Dr A this morning, wondering why I hadn't shown up for my 8:30am appointment. Because I thought it was at 3pm, I replied, truthful and embarrassed, with a part of me thrilled to have (for the first time) demonstrated behaviour outside the "acceptable". I've read so many comments about psychologists and psychiatrists not wanting to take on Borderline patients, for a lot of reasons, one of which is that they can be unreliable and cancel appointments, reschedule appointments, leave early, arrive late, in an attempt to manipulate their doctors. Or maybe they just wrote down the wrong time in their diary. It can happen! It was weird, to hear Dr A's slightly stern and questioning tone, almost apprehensive about what state he would find me in. As if I must be bed-ridden and avoiding, or molten with melancholy, unable to face him. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved to actually be just forgetful and inaccurate with my diary.

I was happy to not have to go to therapy today, not because I was any of the thing listed above, but simply because I usually don't make appointments for Thursdays. Thursday is my one day off during the working week, and I love it with a passionate intensity usually reserved for...well...I don't know what, but I used to be passionate and intense about things other than time off from work lol. These days, I just like to have my own timetable, and not have to be anywhere or see anyone. Even now I am non-avoiding, and trying to be interactive with the world, I leave Thursdays alone. The potential of them stretches out in front of me like the most inspiring and wonderful blank canvas - even though I usually just watch TV or go have coffee with my stepdad and nanna at the local shopping centre.

One of the reasons I was happy to avoid Dr A is the eternal question of WHAT TO WEAR. I have three distinct wardrobes, the Manic (push-up bras, heels, lowcut tops, dangly earrings), the Barely Functioning (track pants, sweats, anything shapeless and stretchy, preferably dark colours, greasy hair in a scrunchy) and my current wardrobe of somewhere inbetween. Inbetween is a work in progress, and I usually have to decide if I should wear a hat (which I like to do, fashion-wise), in case Dr A thinks it's because I am depressed and haven't washed my hair. I have to decide whether to wear makeup (haggard and washed out versus trying too hard and/or over-activated), whether to wear sneakers and jeans (casual or giving up?), or a flattering top and skirt (trying to transfer/crack on?). I know for a fact that how I present myself as a psychiatric patient is something that is noticed, and probably recorded and analysed. I know, I know, paranoid much? But, it's common sense to think that a shrink would take stock of my physical state as well as my mental one.

As always, as with every damn thing in my life, I over think and over stress. I can't say I lose sleep over the question (WHAT TO WEAR), but I definitely spend time on it. So after hearing from Dr A, and getting the reprieve, I happily put on my favourite baggy jeans, a cute pink shirt, and my fur-lined pink Crocs. This afternoon, we're heading to the shops for a coffee. And for just a moment or two, I imagine that this is what happiness feels like.

(Thanks to Tori for today's blog title, from Moment in Time)