Fuck, it’s been a while, but I’ve been on one now for a good 2 months. Mania & depression be killin me. Today I am definitely tearful and borderline suicidal. I hate my fucking life. I feel backed into a corner, and I cannot dig myself out. My account is $600 overdrawn, and I don’t even pay rent. I have lost everything because I did not know I had BPD until it was too late. I threw away a marriage, my job, my family, my house, everything to chase dick. I stopped practicing Islam, the one thing that kept me grounded. I don’t even know how to begin again. I have no space of my own. I have nothing. Literally nothing. A piece of shit car, pt custody of my kids, a bedroom. I keep telling myself that there are people who would love to have what I have, so I should be fucking grateful.
I hurt…. FUCK I hurt so god damn bad. Online dating, sexting, etc., has been my life. I left my engagement, and am now ready to jump right into the next one. Like a reel through my mind “Would someone just fucking save me!” Settle me down. Love me. Give me, give me, give me hope. What do I have to offer them?? A ccrazy ass wife. Who has an insatiable sex drive and cannot get enough affection. Lucky them.
I think Somme the last time I blogged, I’ve burned through a few short term relationships. TheJamaican blame extremely verbally abusive, and I saw where that was going and burned that bridge to no return. I had a short term stint with a man from Ghana. A married man from Ghana. I broke his heart. I broke the Jamaicans heart. Now, Mr. Burkina Faso. Will you love me, will I love you. There is also Mr. Kenya/S. Africa. I still don’t know WTF he wants from me. He’s got money. And he wants a baby. He’s not Muslim. Where is my forever. Where is my lover. Is it Mr. Gambia? Who is he?
Do you see this in my mind. I care nothing more than who the next man is. I used to be able to take care of myself. Now I cannot. I was independent. Had my own place. Took are of my shit. Now, I just want to disappear. And die. I don’t want to hurt my children. But I don’t want to continue on like this.
If I didn’t have kids, I’d be dead. Long ago.
My addiction is food and sex and affection. I am round. Squishy. And need to be assured I am beautiful and sexy or I’d die.
Today I am full of sorrow, grief, heartache. I wanna vanish…