If reading this
gets confusing or starts to give you a headache
then I will have made my point. The point of the
way this is written is to try to give the reader
an active sense of what it feels like to live
within the confines of borderline dilemma.
If you are borderline, you may relate, and this may
help you to understand that you are not the "only one"
who experiences the way that you feel. If you are a
non-borderline perhaps this will serve to give you a
peak inside of what the borderline in your life is
living through.
Rage from nowhere, attached to nothing....
floating-freely from deep within me and ready in an
instant to spew forth in what seem like
instaneously-effortless bursts of unbridled
entitlement to give me a sense of power admist the
feelings of helplessness that are my every waking
moment. If I am helpless you are too powerful, no,
I will be powerful. I will take your power away so
you can be helpless. I don't do helpless. I am power.
I must have the power. We can't both have the power.
I want what is mine. You are mine right? I am not
yours though, I cannot be anybody's because I am not
even my own. I gave myself to you. We are each other
right? I mean, what's the difference?
Fear stikes me from all corners of my being. What,
what is it that I am not seeing? Is not what I perceive
what is really real? Why is it that I am the only one
who sees what I see, just the way that I do? What does
this mean? Surely this is what is wrong with the world
right? I mean it can't be my problem. I am not afraid.
I am not scared or weak or vulnerable. I need you.....
NO!! ....I am strong and I don't need you. If you let me
need you I won't want you anymore. And if you say I can't
have you then I've got to have you. If you let me have you
then I don't want you anymore. I want you when you don't
want me and I need you when you won't help me. It is the
biting and the pain of this cold distance that I know that
somehow is familiar and is the feeling that I need to give
me the illusion of safety. If I were truly safe I'd be
exposed and not safe at all. Get away by coming closer
and come closer by getting away. I am exposed most when
I hide and hidden when I try to be who I think I am.
Feeling alone, again, abandoned as always, alone, again.
I am everyone and everyone is me. Who am I again? Oh yea,
that person, and that person, and what this person, and this
person, want. Where does that leave me when I am alone? Who
am I then? Do I cease to exist if I am not in the company
of someone off of whom I can bounce my existence and from
whom all of my validation must come?
What is wrong with the world? Why can't they see my pain?
Don't they know how incredibly much I hurt? Can't they see
that I need them to hold some of this pain for me, validate
it, and take it away; for my soul runneth over with agony.
Why should I have to bear my own agony? It is not my
fault. I didn't do this to me. I didn't choose to hurt
like this. I am beside myself with all of this pain
and anger and grief as is an infant whose mother is angry
with him or her. What do I do with that angry face? It
is not acceptance, it is rejecting me.....but I NEED
it.....what am I to do? I don't know what to do so I put
it beside me. Whatever it is, I leave it to sit
there....and it builds over the course of a lifetime. It
builds and it always hurts. It hurts even when I don't feel
it at all. I need to get what I need. I'll die if I don't.
I'll just die. I am dying to live and in my attempts to live
I die.
To purchase all 3 of A.J. Mahari's Ebooks for NON BORDERLINES packaged
together with or without audio programs.
And so I have remained trapped inside this isolated, and
insulated place of youth stunted in my emotional growth. I am
a victim. It is not my fault. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt.
Why don't you care? Why don't you care? Make it go away. Make
it stop, just love me from over there. Love me, but don't you
dare really care. It would hurt too much if you were to care.
I wouldn't understand who you were caring for or about because
I don't know who I am. I hate who I am and what I am. I hate
whoever the hell I am. I have come to hate what it is that
I might be, or sometimes am. I don't like the voided vaccum
within which I feel like my being exists under a glass bubble.
So close, yet so far away from others am I. So close, yet so
far away, from whoever I am, am I. Who are you trying to care
about? What does that mean, that you want to care about me?
It would mean that I needed you to care. I don't need you to
care but I am dying for you to care. Still, care from over
there and don't act like I need you.
Ebooks
On BPD For Borderlines and Nons by A.J. Mahari
Audio Programs
On BPD For Borderlines and Nons by A.J. Mahari
Rescue me, by leaving me alone...it'll kill me. Leave me
alone but rescue me. I need you to rescue me if I am to
live. I am not alive. I am dead. I am dead when I try to
be alive. I am alive when I act like I'm so dead I can't
feel anything. There is such a sharp feel to the pain
of numbness. Feeling the absence of myself like this.
Where do the feelings go? Where does all of that pain
hide? I dissociate from all that hurts. I give it to others.
It is their fault, and their problem, not mine. Help me,
while you leave me alone. Leave me alone while you help me.
NOW!
I am the center of the universe. Yes I am. I am it and it
is me. I will act this way too, if I feel like it. No, you
can't win. I will win. I'll get you coming and I'll get you
going and there will be no way that you can win. I must
always win. I need to control because I feel so helplessly
out of control, but you can't know that. You can't know that
okay, you don't know that about me. I don't know that about
me. I don't know you and cause I don't know me. You can't
know me either. No, I won't let you in to a place that I
have yet to gain access to. No, me first.
Who am I? I thought I knew just a minute ago. Then,
suddenly nothing felt familiar anymore. Nothing felt okay
anymore: nothing felt SAFE anymore - nothing felt as it had
before. Why does this happen and what does it mean? What
do you mean you don't know? You are supposed to know. I
expect you to know. And if I expect it then I have
a right to demand it from you. Don't go asking me for
anything, NO, it depends how I feel, and what I believe
in any given moment...you just never can know cause I
never know what I'll do or say or feel. Every moment
changes and shifts from one to the next. What is real,
what is truth, whether or not I think I can take care
of myself or what I feel, or right or wrong, from minute
to minute changes, so I really just don't know. I don't
care to know. Don't bother me about it. Leave me alone,
just stay here. And be quiet while you talk to me. Talk
to me silently. Words can hurt. Don't be too quiet in
your silence though, because silence can kill a soul.
I know, it killed mine over and over again. Dead, time
and time again, risen hopes, only to fall and to die,
unanswered, arms outstretched, never reached for, never
grasped, arms that hung outstretched while a little girl
screamed in terror and fear and had more need than any
infant could possibly bear to hold. Arms...that had
to hold themsleves, suspended in mid air, left alone,
ignored. Arms that would take another 36 years to ever
dare to reach out again. So hold me, and rock me --
rock me to stillness -- gently okay, just don't
touch me really, you know?
Truth, you want to talk truth? Whose truth, yours
or mine? Is there a truth between? No, my truth is
truth. Your idea of truth is a lie. I don't lie. If I
don't lie and our truths aren't the same that makes
you a liar. Does so....just does. If I am right then
you are wrong. Yes you are. No I'm not. If I am good
then you are bad if you don't agree with me and or see
things my way. My way isn't just right, it is the only
way. What matters is what I want and need. That's my
truth. And my truth is the truth. Don't you even try
to lie to me, don't...
To purchase all 3 of A.J. Mahari's Ebooks for NON BORDERLINES packaged
together with or without audio programs.
I know things but they seem fleeting. What is real
and important one minute is fragile and or gone and or
misunderstood-misperceived and mis-interpreted by me
the next minute. I don't know why? You were here a
minute ago and it mattered. But then you left. While
you were gone for three minutes and fifty-four seconds
(clock time -- forever in my own sense of the reality
of time) I forgot that you mattered to me and now I
find it incredibly impossible to believe that you could
love me and leave me just like that for three minutes
and fifty-four seconds...to wait and to suffer like that,
alone, isolated and afraid. Don't ever do that again.
Promise me! Do you have any idea what you put me through?
My parents left me like that. It's not alright for you to
just be you and not be me -- while I'm being you too. I
know things seem fleeting. Things keep changing. I can't
hold anymore than I am whether I am holding anything or
not.
You live in a "big picture." Life, so I am told unfolds
in some "big picture" of reality. I live in millions of
little pictures. Millions of pieces of reality. Snap
shots from the whole, fragmented seconds of minutes that
seem to encompass hours. I can't tell what is going on
around me like you do. No, it does not make sense to me.
Part of this picture lined up with part of that one...what
am I supposed to see? What can I know from these mixed up
jigsaw puzzle messages? I get part of it. I don't
understand the rest. First you seem to make sense, then
you don't so I get angry and frustrated. In one part
of the picture I care about you but in another part of the
picture I remember out of context when you said this or
that and then I can't trust you anymore, or not until
the next moment when two picture pieces fit briefly
together. This is my experience. So one minute I want you
close, from a distance and the next minute I want you
distantly-close. This is what is going on inside of me.
I don't want to hurt you like I do I just don't know how
to make sense of all of these jumbled messages and
fragmented pictures that bombard my mind constantly with
images and thoughts that do not fit together, not now, not
ever, hardly ever anyway. If memories are pictures of the
way things were (or the way things are?)then my memories,
like strewn screams, echo to a voided-abyss in a cavernous
canyon. Imagine all of that sound overlapping itself. Could
you hear me then, any better than I can hear you now?
© Ms. A.J. Mahari - February 29, 2000
By A.J. Mahari © 2005-2007
