8/18 - 8/19 pt2
You Take Care of You!
I’m thrilled you’re here, but given its nature and purpose, Borderline Babe contains mentions of mental illness, disordered eating, self-harm, suicidal ideation, strong language, and other adult themes. If you find the material upsetting, please don’t read further. You can always come back another time - I’ll still be here for you!
What is the Borderline Diary?
It’s a scrapbook of life as it happens, my life told through honest and open thoughts, emotions, words, and pictures. Too honest? Too open? I don’t think so. Much as we might talk about ending stigmas - whether around illness, appearance, disability, or anything that makes us insecure - I believe we still hide parts of ourselves in the shadows. I think if we shared more openly, we’d all see ourselves in others, and we’d all feel less alone.
Each diary post includes my real-time, “hot off the presses” diary entries, as well as my reflections on the key emotions and themes in those entries. This mirrors an important element in my recovery: the raw, unfiltered emotions - positive and negative - I experience, coupled with the thoughtful, healthy processing of those emotions.
Two’s Company and Three’s a Crowd
Entry Dates
Wednesday, August 20, 2025 – Sunday, August 24, 2025
Themes of the Week
This week was painful for me. I felt stormy as I like to call it - moody, highly irritable, and on edge. I also struggled with morbid thoughts, I didn’t invite them in, but they stayed anyway. Next week (Thu 8/28), I have an appointment with my provider. I think it’s important we talk about these thoughts so I can make sure I’m processing them in a healthy way, and breaking “bad” habits (suicidal ideation as a way of coping, even passive suicidal ideation). I am 100% committed to life and recovery, and I need my emotional processing to reflect that.
Accepting my limitations
Facing harsh realities
Mourning the loss of the ideal
Guilt, shame, and self-blame (is there anger (externalized shame and self-blame) present too?)
High level of embedded badness (feeling like I am inherently wrong and evil)
Wednesday, August 20, 2025
11:11 am
“I am just feeling a little too happy lately," I say all smiley and giggly, as I take a sip of water from my hot pink bottle.
“Like these past couple of days I've been in a really good place mentally… Yeah, I've just been feeling really calm and stable."
“But I don't trust it, you know? I'm just like waiting to come crashing back down," I say, making a wave with my hand.
“I know," the person I'm talking to replies.
They know.
11:13 am
“I love when you're happy! I love when you're all smiley and giggly like this!"
...
That's the thing though...
I have two sides.
One is dark,
One is light.
One is heaven;
Aphrodite,
Warm,
Soft,
Joyful noise,
Grounded,
Breeze over saltwater.
One is hell;
Ice Queen,
Frigid,
Harsh,
Mute,
Radioactive,
Caged tiger pacing.
...
There was a little girl, who had a broken brain...
And when she was good,
She was very very good,
But when she was bad,
She was horrid.
12:00 pm
I'm still smiling. Not a big, obnoxious Joker-esque smile. A quiet smile, more a state of being than a physical display.
Yeah, I'm still smiling, and my heart feels like a tub of Miracle Whip, a pocket full of sunshine, and joyful butterflies.
6:55 pm
“... A kiss, a touch, a song that made me cry
And all the drugs I've done, they never got me higher
Than the first time we met
There's nothing like the first time we met…”
(The First Time, by Damiano David)
2022.
“You all done for the day?”
Kind eyes, warm smile,
I walked away.
Oh but darling, I wish I’d stayed…
I don't think he'll end up with her,
But I know he won't end up with me.
I also know that someday,
Maybe in 5 years,
Maybe in 10…
He'll wake up in cold sweats,
Roll over next to her,
And wish it was me instead.
Thursday, August 21, 2025
5:29 am
Life is good.
12:01 pm
I don't know what happened. Yesterday I felt so good. And not so good and so high... Not the extreme. I felt so good and so happy... Just happy...
I remember my drive home from work - Windows rolled down, Bryce Vine telling me I'm the next Drew Barrymore... I was dancing along - the awkward kinda dancing you gotta do when you're sitting - just kinda bopping about to the rhythm.
I was golden, I was the sun. Singing along about fucking on coffee tables, I had one hand on the wheel. The other I left floating in the air, drawing waves. Not my normal waves though - not a way of expressing the exhausting cycle of my tumultuous highs and lows - no. This was a friendly wave, it came to me bearing peace and simplicity.
But now the tides have changed. I lost my peaceful wave, and have been thrust back into my hurricane... I feel abandoned, abandoned by happiness - what a painful feeling.
2:35 pm
“He committed suicide... In his office"
“I can't imagine ever doing that."
I can.
6:17 pm
Two’s company and three’s a crowd…
Anytime I'm in a group larger than a duo, I just get lost. I sit engaged and smiling, but I feel like a wallflower. Pretty to look at, but no one wants to buy.
…
Why am I here?
... I wonder if that's what he thought when he stepped off and hung...
9:11 pm
It's time for me to sleep. I'm OK. I'm thinking maybe I'm finally getting my period, and that's causing the shift in my mood. I hope so. I want my period, I just got in back in April and it was so regular... And I was so happy...
We'll see, I'm not going to worry about that now. I'm just going to trust that this too shall pass as it always does. Because I am strong. Because I am loved.
Hearing about suicide didn't help. I took a drive after. I had to run an errand, but I also had to run. Windows rolled down, Bryce Vine telling me, all these other girls wonder what he fucks with me for. Both hands clutched the wheel. White knuckles. Head stuck in a dull ache. Thinking about those two poor souls. They were babies once. Do you ever think about that? How every person on this earth was once just an innocent little baby. I wonder if she screamed for her mom when she jumped...
I did not quiver. My body did not quake. My eyes stared dead ahead, my lashes did not flutter. Pursed lips. Not a single muscle moved. Time stood still. Yet, tears rolled down my cheeks - the most painful kind - silent.
Please don't give the monster in my head any ideas...
Daily Connection
Emotions when I heard about the suicides:
(Negative Emotions Processed) Sad, despair, helpless, sorry, uncertain, hesitant, unsafe, worried, shame, guilt, jealous
(Positive Emotions Processed) Caring, loving, understanding, concern, strong, secure, safe, hope, peace
Friday, August 22, 2025
8:31 am
I’m still thinking about that poor man…
A fantasy
I open the door to his room on fire
I help him off the stool
I take the belt down
I put it around his pants and fasten it
Right where it belongs
He tells me his wife bought it for him
For his birthday
And I tell him that’s just lovely
He’s weeping,
I’m smiling
“... Near the ocean, near the water
Only good things, no piranha
All the good days of the views I love
Ain't never been so clear…”
(Sunflower Seeds, by Byrce Vine)
I make a wave with my hand
And he follows me
He’s smiling now
I’m smiling still
Because no matter what you’ve done
You don’t deserve to die
He invites me to dinner
And I say I’d love to
He shows me a wallet photo of his grandchild
He has light, eyes
Light and kind
Just like him
Kinda like Him
Kinda like my Good Doctor
My fantasy
I join him in his room on fire
And instead of extinguishing it for him
I show him how to do it himself
Instead of saving him
I teach him to save himself
Just like my Good Doctor did for me
10:52 am
“My dear, we’re slow dancin’ in a burn’ room…”
(Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, by John Mayer)
If I were a rose, I’d be the thorn
If I were the sky, I wouldn’t be blue, I’d be the storm
If I were a light, I’d be the flame
If I were the ocean, I’d be the wave
Restless and reckless,
Beauty in pain.
5:46 pm
I’m on the stair climber,
White sneakers run up the steps,
Pounding out my stress.
My calories reflect the devil’s number, and even though he sleeps at the foot of my bed, I cross myself. I want to keep him there - away. Gone are the days when I gladly awaited his rape of my person…
Stay away unholy creature,
Stay away.
…
Please…
Stay
Away.
5:50 pm
“Workout complete!” is announced to me in a flash of neon.
4500 + steps,
735 calories,
Relief.
Daily Connection
I was talking to Mom and Dad about my career. I had told them I love my job. I love being an esthetician. I'm also excited to go back to school for my nursing degree. I know I will be an amazing nurse (confident, proud).
But then there's you - my blog, my baby, my brand, my business. I've said it before and I'll say it again, out of all of my passions, out of all of my loves, you are my strongest passion, and my truest, deepest love.
You are my life's mission and if I had to make a choice - between you and the other career I'm building, the other life I lead - I would choose you in a single heartbeat.
Why?
Because you are what makes me the most happy.
Life is too short not to follow your dreams. Life is too short not to be happy.
But that doesn't mean the choice in itself would be easy, that it wouldn't make me sad. Choosing between two loves is never easy, and choosing between my traditional career- the vanilla boy next door, and you - my Latin lover is no exception to that rule.
Maybe I'm just crazy (I mean I know I am, but...) - Maybe you and I aren’t going anywhere... But I believe we are. A beautiful angel told me once he saw it written in the stars...
And like I told Mom and Dad tonight I believe there will come a day when I have to choose - choose between my first love and loving you.
Because I can't have my cake and eat it too...
Loving Him was golden, but loving you is periwinkle blue.
Hearts will be broken, one of them mine, but it will be OK, it will heal with time...
And a wise man once told me there is good and goodbye.
...
But for now I will stay the course, no matter what. I will get my degree and keep my licenses up to date. I will keep working and advancing in my current field. I will keep one foot in the door. My backup plan and security policy.
Two's company and there's a crowd.
Unless it's a vanilla boy, my Latin lover, and me.
...
Emotions around potentially having to choose between my career as an esthetician and nurse and my career as a mental health advocate, blogger, and writer:
* Career as an esthetician/nurse = people admire and praise
* Career as a writer/blogger = people judge
(Positive Emotions Processed) Accepting, capable, calm, comfortable, secure, confident, strong, safe, self-reliant, trust, hope, peace
(Negative Emotions Processed) Sad, insecure, guilt, shame, worry, inadequate, inferior
Saturday, August 23, 2025
2:07 pm
“I think I’m also having a hard time because I don’t love it the way I thought I would… No, sometimes I really don’t love it at all…”
I’m mourning the loss of the ideal.
I know I should love the vanilla boy next door. The good, secure guy I’ve been going with since I was sweet sixteen… But I don’t love Him like I should… No, sometimes I really don’t love Him at all…
You know who I do love? My wild Latin lover. Wild, uncertain, frowned upon even… I want to spend all my days his shotgun rider, and all my nights making snow angels in his sheets…
I know it’s wrong, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about love, it’s never right.
Daily Connection
I don't love it as much as I thought I would... In fact, sometimes I don't even love it at all...
(Negative Emotions Processed) Guilt, shame, blame (self, my fault), disappointed, let down, sad, uncertain, hesitant, sorry, humiliated, bitter, frustrated, unfulfilled, mad, angry, insecure, inferior, inadequate, fear, worry
(Positive Emotions Processed) Acceptance, relief, proud, strong, courageous, brave, secure, confident, self-reliant, trust, peace, hope, calm, capable, forgiving
Idk the time…
(No screens before bed, remember?)
I don't think the med is working or really doing anything. I'm Moody AF as per usual. I don't think there's bipolar present. I think most of my symptoms are stemming from the BPD at this point. I should just go off the med...
10:10 pm
I'm not supposed to be on my phone. I know, I know, no screens. I just have to get this out...
I wish you had seen the pain in Dad's eyes,
Or the way Mom held me the night that we died.
So me ask you now,
Was It Worth It?
Was it worth killing us? -
Under some blonde girls' thighs?
Sunday, August 24, 2025
7:32 am
“.. I just wanna throw my phone away
Find out who is really there for me…”
I'm wet.
...
The stair climber is spanking me,
I'm drenched in sweat -
I watch it decorate the machine, a clear and salty paint splatter.
7:34 am
“... So you can keep the diamond ring
It don't mean nothing anyway…”
I see red.
…
The flow of sweat just won’t stop,
Like the stream of blood after a deep cut -
I feel like a corpse, heavy but empty.
8:59 am
“He killed himself…”
“Out of nowhere…”
Jealous.
Daily Connection (1)
I feel guilty… Guilty and evil saying this… But whenever I hear about someone who committed suicide, part of me feels jealous. I know that feeling used to be fueled by my own intense and constant suicidal ideation. I felt jealous of individuals who committed suicide, as I believed such an action was the only way to end one’s pain - the only way out of the room on fire.
That isn’t the case anymore. Now, I see suicide for what it really is - a false promise, a dead end road. So, why do I still feel jealous anytime I hear of someone who ended their own life?
… Because they get attention - attention to the highest extreme - and attention (any kind of attention, good or bad) = love.
And that’s all I really want, to be loved.
(Negative Emotions Processed) Jealous, evil, guilt, shame, sleazy, horrified, disgust (self), sad, empty, hopeless
(Positive Emotions Processed) Forgiving (self), understanding (self), peace
10:11 am
“Then I won’t have to miss you for eight weeks…”
Oh but you aren’t allowed to miss me, are you?
I don’t think your missus would want you too…
But I know you would…
I know you do…
And I hate to admit it, but God I miss you too…
12:09 pm
Daily Connection (2)
Dad built me my own little home gym so I don’t have to physically trek to the gym everyday. It will save me 40 min - 1 hr some days, which is such a blessing… Especially since I’m starting school this week, while still maintaining my work hours.
I am loved. I am loved so much it hurts sometimes…
(Positive Emotions Processed) Loved/loving, cared for/caring, grateful, understood, supported, trust, safe, respected, glad, cherished
(Negative Emotions Processed) Guilt, shame, sorry, blame (self), evil
3:45 pm
Last night, I read a chapter of a murder mystery bed. The same Pentecost and Parker mystery I’ve been chipping away at for weeks now (Dead in the Frame, by Stephen Spotswood). Hey, I’ve been busy.
Anyways, this particular chapter talked about lobotomies,
“... While very few things are worse than death, some come close…”
“... Yes, Johnny isn't gnashing his teeth anymore, but he’s not answering to his name, either…”
I was sitting reading that, all tucked up and cozy in bed thinking, “Damn! I still gnash my teeth sometimes… It’s a good thing I wasn’t around in 1947…”
And then there was the kicker:
“... Abnormalities in the brain – particularly in the frontal lobe – result in people acting irrationally.”
So there I was, thinking, “Well damn! (again) - That’s BPD - Abnormalities in the frontal lobe of the brain - That’s BPD - And that’s me!...”
And with that, I closed the book, turned off the light, pulled the covers over my head, and thanked God it wasn’t 1947.
This wasn’t the first time I’ve thought about how my life would have been different if I had been born in another time…
Sometimes I glamorize the days of the past, but in reality, I know I would have…
Been burned at the stake. A psychic once told me I was burned alive in another life, and that’s why I always feel like I’m about to die in this one… But that’s a story for another time…
Been the pet and plaything of the local Catholic priest. He’d parade me around town performing exorcisms on me in front of an audience of wide-eyed children, and groping my bottom when they looked away
Been locked up in an insane asylum, given a lobotomy, and left to rot in a cold corner until I died…
That last one reminds me of Great Uncle Bob. God, what a character! I’ve told you about him, haven’t I? No?! Ah, well I never met the blessed man, but I love him, and I know he would have loved me too.
Dear Great Uncle Bob was locked away in an insane asylum himself. Probably right around 1947… Now family opinions differ on the reason for his imprisonment. Some say he was truly mentally ill (which would explain a lot of things pour moi), but the more popular opinion is that the poor man had only gone mad due to a nasty case of untreated Syphilis. Either way, my kind of guy!
You know, sometimes I like to think I was there with him, his angel in another life. I like to paint a pretty picture of what asylum life looked like. A picture that is far from the horror I know it really was.
I like to imagine the two of us dressed up in crisply pressed white linen ensembles. Great Uncle Bob dons a day suit, something reminiscent of the old south, with whisperings of Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mocking Bird. I myself take on the appearance of Scarlett O’Hara, lost among petticoats, having lost my reason…Lost and gone…Gone with the Wind.
We spend our days strolling through gated gardens, safe from the horrors of the outside world. We play crochet and watch for birds. Great Uncle Bob loves the dove, while I adore the simple hummingbird. We paint watercolors - heavenly scenes and portraits of each other. We take tea every evening, making a dinner out of the sweet black liquid, finger sandwiches, iced floral cakes, and raspberry jelly crumpets.
At this time of the night, I like to think we’re joined by Edgar Allan Poe and Vincent Van Gogh. I like to think I’m the modern day female version of both…Maybe in another time, maybe in another life…
We’d be a jolly party of four there, each and every starry night. Laughing and talking about art, poetry, love, loss, and the very meaning of this life. I don’t know if artists and authors are always tortured, I just know I always am.
But they would understand.
Yes, two’s company, and any more is a crowd. Unless it’s Edgar Allan Poe, Vincent Van Gogh, Great Uncle B, and me.
