Across the World

I want the adventures of Dar Es Salaam.

I want the passion from Kingston.

I want the Smile and warm embrace from Brikama.

I want the security & sensitivity of Lamin Village.

I want the love letters from Kumasi.

I want the spontaneity from Andalusia.

I want the taste of Banjul. 

I want the dedication from Mali. 

I want the innocence of Johannesburg.

I want the mystery and youthfulness of Calabar.

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Anxiety Fucking Overload

I had a “To do” list today that I am working on. Usually that relieves my anxiety, but today, not so much. I am fucking anxious. I am supposed to be saving money but I have spent so frivously for so long, that I can’t seem to get caught up. 

Things causing me Anxiety:

  1. Not finishing my divorce papers. (My husband is moving, and I need to have everything wrapped up in 1 month from today, including the court appearance.) Fuck!
  2. Getting my fucking car fixed. 3 mechanics, countless hours and money spent, nobody seems to be able to figure out WTF is going on with it. 
  3. MONEY! I should not be broke, but I am, in my eyes. I had a certain amount of money to last me 2 weeks, and I blew through it all, so here I am 2 weeks out from payday, and I am already borrowing from that paycheck. This is the fucking struggle of my life.
  4. The Boyfriend. I am so fucking terrified of being discarded from him, I just want him to go away. But I love him. I AM SO FUCKING SCARED OF BEING HURT. This makes me want to cry just thinking about it. What if all the things he says to me are lies. What if his idea of love and my idea of love are different. He basically told me last night, and this morning, that my constant negativity is affecting him, and the way he feels about me. So, naturally I am like, I just need to fuckinng walk away from him. He’ll never be there for me in the way I want him to. He will never understand my BPD, he will never ever be part of team unicorn. BREATHE……….My anxiety around this is so fucking profound, I just wanna die. But I cannot die, my kids need me. They need for me to get my fucking shit together. I want this to all just go away. Life is really fucking hard. 
  5. I want to move my kids home up North right now. But I cannot. Because I need a reliable vehicle, and money to move.

BREATHE.

I have not prayed in a long time. I know this is exactly what I need to do. But, I cannot find the time within myself to do it. But it is the number one most important thing about being a Muslimah. I am proud of my religion, but have no energy to practice it. How fucked up is that. 

Are these guys at Les Schwab gunna fix my tire yet or what, been here over an hour.  
I’m tired. 

This weekend was my brothers 8 year anniversary of his suicide. 

The Jamaican keeps texting/calling me, I  accept. I like the attention. 

these random fucking thoughts. 

She’s up and running…She trips and falls

imageMy life, is exactly explained in the above title. This morning I woke up, energized, ready to take on the world,  and super happy. I made good decisions last night. Thats right, I made good decisions. This girl.

The Jamaican texted me yesterday around 6pm, and told me he wanted to get a hotel room for us. I still haven’t seen him in person since I have been with my BF. I agreed to the hotel room because I was in full fuck it mode, and I wanted revenge, and I wanted amazing sex and I wanted to be fucking selfish. I went home and showered, shaved, powdered, perfumed, did my make-up etc.

Around midnight he texted me, and said he had purchased the hotel room. By then, I was naked in bed half asleep. He called me, and I said I’d get up, get ready and meet him. I got up, got some lounge clothes on, then climbed back into bed. I called him and told him I couldn’t come. I was too tired. In reality I felt like God was like, listen bitch, if you even go there, consider this relationship with your BF done.  So, I didn’t go. I had a conscious last night, and I have not had that kind of clairity in a long time. I felt fucking great when I woke up this morning. I MADE GOOD CHOICES!

On my way to work, I left BAE a VM telling him how much I loved him and how I miss him. About 2 minutes later I left him an 8 minute VM on how I felt about our relationship. How I felt mislead in places (maybe my misunderstanding), how I felt vulnerable etc. I bounced into work, coffee in hand, smoked a cigarette with my co-worker and told her how proud I was of myself, and everything was back on track.

In my mind I thought the BF would say, “Baby, I do want to marry you. We will move together up North, with the kids, and I will find another job there, everything will be fine.” But that wasn’t the case. He just said he wants to take our time, and everything will be fine. I will listen to that VM like 800 times until I hear from it what I want to hear, or until it completely destroys me. Right now, I am hurting inside, my bubble has burst, I just want to run away.

It is Eid today, Our Muslim holiday. I miss my husband. I miss my old life. I miss security. Financially. Emotionally. I miss my friends. I miss all this things my BPD fucked up for me. I fucked up.

My anxiety is crippling, I am exhausted. I just want to curl up in bed and cry until my BF gives me what I want and I do not feel so fucking rejected. Even though I know, deep down inside, this should take time. But I tell myself stories that make this whole thing worse. It’s times like this I wish I could just die of natural causes, and disappear.

But my kids need me more than ever.

I am the fucking queen of destruction

Saturday I had written a blog post, and apparently I didn’t save it. As I write this I glance at my phone over 20 times looking for a text or a snapchat or a message of any kind from one of my lovers I’ve reached out to. 

I am mad at my BF because he didn’t give me the attention I was seeking this weekend, both physically and emotionally. Boom, just like that a message. Let’s see what it says and who it’s from;

“Can I pass by and see you.” -The Jamaican (in a voice message). 

Oh my god, the Jamaican is the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. Before I moved back here, My Gpa was passing, so I was here very other weekend. My girl was pushing me to go out to a club with her the night he actually passed away and I was like fuck it fine. I went. As soon as I walked by him, I knew he’d me mine. He’s fucking sexy and watching him dance on me, I knew he’d fuck just as good. We ended up in the back seat of my rental car, for like an hour. The next day I had bumps and bruises and it was amazing.  I was dating my ex BF at the time, I was cheating all over the place. I wanted more of him though. I fucking craved him and all the attention he gave me. 

Once I moved here, We had a 2nd rendezvous, and I swear, I wanted to die…….. I couldn’t get enough of him. The current BF, had started to get serious, so I let the Jamaican go. I shouldn’t even be thinking about fucking around with someone who is a non-Muslim, and has a baby mama he lives with, and is in a relationship with. So yeah, there’s that. I should leave well enough alone, but I can’t. I should stay serious and faithful to my BF, but I can’t. I am in full BPD destruction mode, and I am enjoying the high. 

PS, I fired my therapist because she is horrible. 

Side note; I’ve never not been in some kind of relationship. I jump from BF to BF, relationship to relationship, fuk buddy to fuck buddy……..I can NEVER be alone.

So, After I wasn’t getting enough attention this weekend, I set out to the menu, the Jamaican, and others I was able to pull forth from my old black book. (The menu = Online dating sites)

I did a few things I was not proud of, but WTF ever. That’s where I am t today. Really fucking anxious, self destructive, often with ideations, but I don’t want to stop. I know it’s wrong, I totally do……. I know I’m hurting people.