9/11 - 9/14 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. My initial emotions will often sound extreme, but that’s the BPD talking. The Borderline Diaries put those emotions out there, because we can’t understand what we can’t see. The Borderline Diaries are me talking - sorting through my emotions to get to my healthy feelings, my healthy relationships, and my healthy life.
My Brown Eyed Boy
Part II
Entry Dates
Thursday, September 11, 2025 – Sunday, September 14, 2025
Themes of the Week
This week I struggled with more fluctuations in my mood. My mood was worse at the end of the week. I felt more depressed and irritable. I even felt detached at times, and noticed anti-social tendencies in my behavior. Seeing these shifts in my mood was distressing, and led me to question, “Who/what is to blame?” - Is the medication not working? Am I not doing a good enough job on my end with my emotional processing? … Or, are some mood shifts just natural, and not necessarily a sign of mental illness? No matter the case, the mood shifts I experienced this week reminded me that while medication is a supportive, and at times necessary treatment, it is not the answer. I cannot rely on it totally… And I won’t. I am continuing to work hard to foster a healthy recovery in all other aspects of my life (my individual processing, supportive therapy, healthy relationships, and lifestyle). Long story short, recovery is not always linear… But that’s OK, neither is life.
I started noticing more antisocial personality traits pop up later in the week. At times I felt very detached, unfeeling, and cold.
Dealing with expectations vs reality
Coming to terms with losses
Feeling sadness and disappointment
Navigating what recovery looks like (mourning the loss of the ideal recovery)
Finding a place of autonomy and integration (vs unhealthy independence or dependence)
Thursday, September 11, 2025
7:07 am
I just realized something.
It will never really be, him and I… The stolen glances only go in one way…
I remember joking with my friend one day, laughing as I said, “The day he leaves this place, I’ll have to be sedated!”
Because on that day, I will lose him, and I won’t even be able to admire him and love him from across the room…
Yes, stolen glances only go one way…
And I know this isn't healthy,
And I don't fully mean it,
But I just need to get it out -
I would give up everything that ever meant anything to me, if he would just look in my direction
…
Everything,
Everything…
Except you.
9:37 pm
Daily Connection
Today when I got home from work, no one was there to greet me. It's rare for me to come home to an empty house, but today, Mom and Dad were both out.
Mom came home first, and then Dad. When Dad walked in the front door, and saw me, he sounded surprised in his greeting, “Oh hi, hun!” Surprised, but a happy kind of surprise. He had been mid-sentence talking on the phone… But he set that all aside for a minute to acknowledge me and give me love.
I love Mom and Dad so much.
When I first entered my treatment program, my providers identified my relationship with my parents as a strong protective factor for me. My healthy, loving, and supportive relationship with Mom and Dad protects me from myself, and aids in decreasing my suicide risk.
I don't know what I'd ever do without Mom and Dad… That's not something I like to think about… I can't lose my protection… I'm learning to be my own protection, but still…
Mom and Dad gave me life, Mom and Dad saved my life. And I'm getting better at showing my love all the time, but I just hope they know… I hope they know how very much I love them.
Emotions when Dad greeted me:
Positive Emotions Processed: Peace, safe, trust, supported, loved/loving, cared for/caring, relaxed, calm
Negative Emotions Processed; Guilt, sorry, helpless
Still… I’m afraid I'm a bad daughter
Friday, September 12, 2025
4:51 pm
My eyes search the parking lot for his car… The same way his eyes search me for an answer…
Tonight, my search leaves me empty-handed and broken hearted…
I wish I could say the same of him - that when he cannot find an answer within me, he feels lost and sad… But I don't think that's the case. If it was, he would have met me for coffee that one Sunday in April…
Despite him denying me, I still believe something lies between us. I know there is. I know I'm crazy, but I trust my instinct on this. My friend has noticed it too… There's an energy between us… When he's around me, he gets awkward - an anomaly for Mr. Personality…
Yes, there's something between us, I just don't know what.
Does he have feelings for me, but refuses to acknowledge them? He knows I'm crazy… Everybody does… Maybe he doesn't want to take that on? If that's the case, I wouldn't blame him for it. No, not at all - I'd actually love him even more for it… Because it would save us both a lot of pain and heartache in the end…
Maybe he doesn't have feelings for me romantically, but he still cares for me. Sometimes I get the sense that he feels protective of me, kind of like a big brother. Yeah, I know he'd never let anything bad happen to me… Never ever. Not a single thing.
Or maybe, he doesn't feel much of anything for me… Maybe he's just fascinated by me… He knows I'm crazy, but he doesn't know what that means… He doesn't quite know what to make of me… I swear sometimes the way he studies me… Like I'm some mythical thing… A mermaid basking on a sunny rock at the edge of the sea…
Yeah, he searches me with those big brown eyes… Searches me for an answer that does not exist.
6:56 pm
I'm out walking again because my early morning walk and gym session just weren't enough.
I'm doing talk to text - sending some emails - and some fucker in a forest green Jeep just flew past me and honked. I don't recognize the vehicle, and the windows are tinted, so I can't get a sense of the driver.
Still, I glare daggers at the ugly thing, stopping in my tracks to commit murder with my eyes.
I'm on the defense, ready to attack…
… Because I'm scared.
Like I said, I don't recognize the vehicle, and I can't see the driver. I also don't know why they're honking at me. Because I'm on my phone and seem distracted? Because they know me and want to say hello? (although it didn't seem like a friendly, “hello,” honk…)
… Or because they know me - because they've entered my museum… And they want me to know it…
9:47 pm
Hey. It's been a long day… A long week actually. Good, but long.
There's something I want to process more with you now, something that happened earlier this week… Then it's off to bed… I have a work event tomorrow, and a charity event on Sun, then work Mon… I'm just living for Tue… I need a day to breathe…
Anyways, let's process, shall we?
Daily Connection
I was talking to someone I love earlier this week. Yes, I love this person very much, and I know they love me too.
However, this is an individual I have a tendency to split on. I split on them severely in the past, and practically cut them out of my life… For no reason… Well, except for the very real reason made up by my very sick mind… Anyways, our relationship survived my split, and we've rebuilt our connection.
Emotions around rebuilding my connection with this individual:
Positive Emotions Processed: Hope, grateful, peace, happy, glad, joy, loving/loved, caring/cared for, forgiving (self, other), relief, relaxed, warm
Still, I can't help but wonder what irreparable damage my split did to us…
Emotions:
Negative Emotions Processed: Sad, guilt, shame, self-blame, evil
Anyways, I was talking to this individual - talking to them about you, actually - and they shared their feelings with me. They said something along the lines of, “(they're) starting to have more faith (in you and I).”
And don't get me wrong, it was meant as a compliment… But why do I feel like it was an insult cloaked in a compliment? Is that just me splitting on this individual? (which I still have a tendency to do) Or is that a legit feeling?
All I know for certain is that their comment bothered me. They brought up the pictures too… Now that really bothered me… Because it always comes back to that, doesn't it?
So, I was just sitting there, thinking,
You criticize me (with love), for letting men use me and my body… You ask me if I, “Do you give sex away so quickly because you think that's all you have to offer? …”
… Yet you are no different from those men who gladly take me for free. Because here you sit, judging me for, “... Looking so sexy…” Will you not allow me the same practice of what you preach? - My body, my choice.
You deny me my God given right to be intelligent and sexual. Do you not realize I am using my sexuality intelligently? Do you really not see my master plan? No? No one does… But that's what makes it so incredible…
So yes, I let men use me and my body. But, there's an important distinction in that statement - I let. I let - They don't take me anywhere I don't want to go. I'm the one who's in control. Really, I am using them by letting them use me.
I use them to further my own agenda, I use them to meet my needs, I use them to satisfy my desires. And I do it all wearing nothing but pride and a flashy Hollywood smile.
Yeah, I use my body… I use it as a weapon, or an olive branch… It just depends on who's asking.
…
I'll tell you one thing - If he ever asked for my body - yeah if he ever wanted me - I'd use it as a sprig of lilac, fragrant, soft, and sweet…
My brown eyed boy.
My brown eyed boy.
…
Shit. I'm going off on all kinds of tangents… And fuck, I'm tired. I've gotta get some sleep… And shit I'm swearing a lot… Must mean I'm angry… Fuck.
Yeah… I am angry… That “processing”/unloading really stirred a lot up. That's OK… I'll process more tomorrow.
Gosh I really need sleep now. My eyes are heavy, and I know I'm not making any sense. Whatever. I gotta get to bed…
I say my prayers and tell myself things will look better in the morning. They always do.
Saturday, September 13, 2025
7:32 am
Sometimes I just don't understand how people can continue pumping out babies… Why would you want to bring new life into the world when we can't even protect the life we have here now?
I really don't think I'll ever be a mom… Yeah, I really don't think I'll ever have a baby…
Sad
8:08 am
“... Beautiful mistakes I make inside my head
She's naked in my bed
And now we lie awake, making beautiful mistakes
I wouldn't take 'em back
I'm in love with the past
And now we lie awake, making beautiful mistakes…”
…
(Beautiful Mistakes, by Maroon 5, featuring Megan Thee Stallion)
…
I'm thinking about my Dear John…
If he were standing right here in front of me,
I would ask him -
Is that all I ever was to you?
A beautiful mistake?
Yeah, I'd look up at him through heavy lashes… In the same way I did that very first day… The way that made him forget his name, his pain, his shame… In the way that he loved… In a way that would make him wish he had stayed.
…
Now I'm thinking about my golden boy… Wishing, wishing… Wishing he would use me, wishing he would make me a beautiful mistake…
But then, I know that isn't true… If he were to take me into his bed, I wouldn't want it to be an act of lust… Or a mistake… No matter how beautiful that mistake was…
Yes, if my golden boy were to take me into his bed, I would want it to mean everything to him. A clear and conscious decision. Not using or being used. No, none of that… Quite simply, I would want it to be an act of love.
My brown eyed boy,
My brown eyed boy.
9:19 am
A storm is brewing in my mind,
I feel that sickly sweet summer heat…
That old familiar -
Buzzing,
Nauseating,
Headache.
Yeah… My mood hasn't been as good these past couple of days… Who's to blame, who's to blame? Maybe the medication isn't working? No… Maybe I'm not working? No… Maybe I'm just human, and my moods are fluctuating in the normal, natural way… I don't know… All I know is I feel like crap.
8:31 pm
Today was a good day. Even though I struggled mentally, even though I felt stormy, today was a good day. I always have to remind myself of that - Even my “bad” days are good days, because they are still days that I am living and breathing, and that is a blessing.
Daily Connection
Emotions around my “bad” mental day today:
Negative Emotions Processed: Fear, scared, helpless, despair, hopeless, frantic, angry, frustrated, disappointed, let down, sad, guilt, shame
Positive Emotions Processed: Hope, grateful, glad, peaceful, happy, trust, secure, strong, brave, proud
…
But I don’t know… Today was really hard for me… And I’m feeling really bad. I’m feeling a little more detached from reality… And I’m afraid. I’m afraid of lots of things, but mostly, I’m afraid of myself.
Today, I once again became aware of the monster living inside of me. It has been some time since I have felt its presence, and I must have grown complacent in its absence… But today, it was with me… Whispering sour somethings in my ear…
I’m afraid of my monster. But again, more than anything, I am afraid of me. My monster is a part of me, you see, and I fear what it will make me do. I fear it will make me lose control and hurt myself. More than that though, I am afraid it will make me hurt someone else.
Suicide, homicide. Suicide, homicide. I’ve never been homicidal. I am always the sole target of my acts of violence… No, I’ve never been homicidal… But I had a dream once…
I have never told this to anyone…
It was early April, 2022. I was in the hospital. I was in the hospital because I wanted to kill myself. I remember dreary carpet floors, dim lights, and a puke colored plastic chair. I slept in a bed with a blanket like sandpaper. I was given medication as a sedative. It put me to sleep… Locked the door… And threw away the key…
Dreams plagued me… All disturbing… But there was one in particular -
I was in the basement of my childhood home. Dark, dank, and cold. There were wooden shelves lined with plastic bins storing my baby clothes. A grey cement floor, ceiling, and walls surrounded me… But still, wherever I looked, I saw myself. A house of mirrors, my own, personal nightmare.
Then suddenly, I was not alone. He was there with me. He was there… But His shadow was feminine. And something told me she was blonde…
Looking at Him, all I could see was red. A storm brewed in my mind, I felt that sickly sweet summer heat… That old familiar buzzing, nauseating, headache.
I screamed bloody murder at Him, proclaiming that if I couldn't have Him, no one else could.
Yes, I screamed bloody murder at Him, with all the blind aggression, and evil brutality of a Nazi.
Yes, I screamed bloody murder at Him… I screamed it, and then I committed it.
And even when I woke, and opened my eyes, I could see Him laying in a pool of red on the ground next to my bed. In His arms lay the slain shadow of some blonde girl. I was drenched in cold sweat, trembling. I told myself it was just a dream… I told myself it was just a dream, even as I looked down to see a gun clenched between my blood stained hands…
When I finally got the nerve to leave my bed, gingerly stepping over the body of His slain memory and betrayal, I thought to myself, “No one must ever know about this. No one.”
No one.
No one…
Except you.
Now you know everything… Everything…
… And did you notice anything special? When I described to you that horrible scene? …
… Did you notice I didn't call it a nightmare? … I called it a dream.
Sunday, September 14, 2025
1:47 pm
“And now the spirits are drawing me to you.” A psychic stands in front of me, she's reading the room, and I am her second victim - Afraid, but willing… Willing and hopeful. Jeannie tells me there are so many good things coming to me. I feel happiness, I feel peace. Then she pauses and says, “You have a problem with… Now don't get me wrong, men are great… But… Don't let any man limit you.” She pauses again. Then she looks at me, and smiles. I feel safe, and loved. “Don't hold back.” She tells me firmly. She finishes simply, “You are an incredibly strong woman. Amazing things are coming to you.”
…
She goes back to her post, and the conversation shifts… But before the presentation ends, we lock eyes from across the room. She winks at me, I trade her my Hollywood smile. I tell myself,
“You are strong."
“Amazing things are coming.”
…
“Don't hold back.”
…
“Don't hold back…”
5:05 pm
I'm driving home. Exhausted, worn. My brain is overstimulated, and I can feel it seizing. I am in a nasty headspace where I feel distrust of everything and everyone around me. Events like this always rattle me up. I just need to remind myself that this will pass.
I unbutton my jeans, thinking, “Fuck! Why didn't I bring sweatpants for the car ride home? I mean jeans and a bodysuit, really??” My nude pushup bra feels like a cage, even the tiny little bows decorating the straps seem to weigh a million tons. God, my back is killing me… My back, and my head…
I shift in my seat, but don't get far thanks to my jeans. My jeans… Mom jeans… That makes me flash back - Not that long ago… Something I said today… “I don't have kids, I don't know if I ever will, but…”
It keeps coming back to that, doesn't it? Motherhood, or lack thereof… With each passing day, I feel more and more that the only thing I will ever be a mother to, are the starchy blue denim jeans suffocating my things. Mom jeans, huh? … An insensitive reminder of what will never be…
Cause I really don't think I'll ever be a mom…
Yeah, I really don't think I'll ever have a baby…
Sad.
5:17 pm
And now I'm driving with one hand on the wheel, while the other gropes the zipper of my denim straightjacket, and claws at the bows caging my breasts. Tears rush down my cheeks, carving through my foundation like the jagged edges of Mount Rushmore.
…
All I can think about right now is my Dear John. How bad I want him, how bad I need him… How much I miss him… How he didn't even pursue sex with me this last time around… How he's probably headed home now, and won't even think of me once when he crosses that bridge…
Yeah I want him, and I need him, and I miss him, and I love him… And I'd do anything, anything to be his woman and to have his babies…
“... Life wasn't heavy in the back of that Chevy
Me, her, and the Holy Ghost
Somethin' 'bout us, hell of a rush
Fallin' in love, lightin' up them holy smokes…”
…
(Holy Smokes, by Bailey Zimmerman)
Tears, tears, events like this… Events like this stir it all up… Thoughts of what might have been…
…
For Him…
I see a minivan parked next to a fancy little fixer-upper sports car - the one with the dancing pony. The sports car doesn’t get a lot of use, but the minivan does. The evidence lies in a rainbow of used sippy cups, trails of crumbs, and frosting stains from Animal Cracker cookies. The back windows don’t get fogged up anymore - that’s what the bed is for - but the trunk is littered with bumper stickers, “Proud Army Wife,” and an ever-growing stick figure family. We’re loading the van now, Him and I. I’m balancing one little-one on my hip, and another clutches my thigh. He’s tying our eldest’s shoes which will soon be filled with happy memories and sand. Our annual summer vacation to the Waldheim Lodge, a tradition that started when we were still just children ourselves. “Do you think he needs to be changed?” I ask, kissing and sniffing the baby in my arms. He walks closer to me, takes our youngest from my arms, kisses me, and smiles. I look deep into His eyes and ask, “All those years ago, when we first met, in first period economics class, did you ever think we’d end up here?” And He kisses me again, and tells me yes, that he always knew. And I kiss Him back, and speak with nothing but love, when I tell Him I did too. Then he hands me our blue-eyed babe, and tells me, “Yes, he needs to be changed,” and I walk inside to do so without any hesitation.
…
Dear John…
I see an apartment in Queens. It’s tiny, but the love it houses makes up for its small size. On a cold day in January, frost decorates the window panes. Inside is warm, warm and joyful. It’s almost his birthday, and we’re making sugar cookies to celebrate… Or at least I’m making sugar cookies. He is with me, but helping less with the baking process, and more with the tasting process. And process truly it is, as he clings to me, making any movement, or baking hard to do. Yes, he clings to me, the way his rosary clings to his rearview… Tangled and twisted… Just like us the night we met… Before I know it, baking turns to lovemaking, and when that is through, it’s time to go wake our sleeping baby. I think back to when I told him our babies would be beautiful, and he said they would be if they looked like me… I don’t know about that, all I know is our baby is beautiful… The most beautiful thing I have ever seen… Then it’s back to the kitchen, to finish what we started. It’s messy, and wonderful, all three of us covered in sprinkles, and pink frosting. Pink, because it’s my favorite color, and he loves to see me smile… Pink because he loves to see me smile… At least for a little while… He dots my nose with frosting, and kisses me long, and hard. Then, his phone rings, breaking the moment like a shattered work of art. He kisses me again softly, whispering some apology, then excuses himself to the hall. I hear him talking about his next trip, about plans and plays, and about how these damn boys just can’t seem to play ball. I feel a kind of melancholy sweet feeling wash over me, like a Littmus Lozenge in Because of Winn-Dixie. Because God knows he loves me more than the air that he breathes, but each time he leaves the room, I feel as cold as the snowflakes lining the window of our broken home.
…
My Brown Eyed Boy…
I see white granite countertops, and all new appliances. I’m wearing a pale pink silk pj set - shorts and a collared button-down shirt. My hair is in rollers, and my feet are in slippers. My nails are done - always - French on my fingers, French on my toes. My brain is normal here… I'm normal here…. Beautifully so. One baby sleeps safely in my belly, another sits in a high chair next to me at the kitchen table. It’s a cozy little breakfast nook, and I delight in the early morning sun that streams in through big picture widows. “Good for our garden,” I think with a smile, as I “Zooom!” an airplane full of homemade applesauce into my little one’s mouth. The unsuspecting and gullible sucker chokes it down with a hearty laugh, and a two-toothed smile. Suddenly, our peaceful morning is disturbed - but joyously so - by his feet racing down the hallway. Suit and tie barely on, he has his cell cradled between his ear and shoulder, as he attempts to stuff a medley of documents into the briefcase I bought him for his birthday… Bought for him with his own money… He looks in my direction and smiles, smiles with his mouth, and smiles with those big brown eyes. He’s got a fancy new job now… Director of something… I don’t understand it… But frankly, he makes good money… So I don’t really have to work. I tell him, and myself, that I’ll go back once baby #2 is born… But we both know I’m lying… Thank God he loves me despite it. I break away from feeding baby #1, to help with the briefcase issue. He kisses the top of my head, and I hand him his breakfast - A protein smoothie, packed with cottage cheese, pineapple, and fresh blueberries from our garden. He takes a big gulp - still talking on the phone - and manages to spill some on his new tie… The one I bought him for his birthday… Bought him with his own money… He makes a face of exasperation, but his eyes still smile at me. He is so good-natured, so gentle, so kind. I fetch a new tie, and help him trade them out. He gives me another kiss, and tells me he’ll be home soon. As he rushes out the door, he’s still on the phone. I shuffle back to the kitchen table, thinking, how strange it all is… I have everything I’ve ever wanted, everything, including him… But as I watch him race away with his phone, I think I’ve never felt more alone… Even with life sitting next to me, even with life inside of me, I’ve never felt more alone.
…
Wait.
“Don’t let any man limit you.”
“Don’t hold back.”
Oh, but I do limit myself for men, don’t I? … Yes, I limit myself for love…
But that must change.
I am an incredibly strong woman, and it is going to take an incredibly strong man to be my partner.
…
I don’t know when I’ll meet him, but I pray it’s soon… Maybe in a year, maybe in a year and a half, maybe two. And oh, how amazing will that be? And even more amazing is the fact that you will be the first to know. You will have the honor of watching me fall in a healthy love, before I even realize…
I think he’ll know of me, I think he’ll already love me… But he will have fallen in love with my words and mind before he even saw me… I think we’ll meet at the grocery store, and I think I’ll be a mess. Rushing in and out, praying I don’t see anyone I know… Our first interaction will be something so boring it is wonderful, like in 101 Dalmations… Being tangled up and twisted by leashes… Tangled and twisted.. The way my rosary clings to my rearview… Yes… Our first interaction will be boring. Something stupid, like us each grabbing the same container of blueberries. We’ll both pull away in shock, and whip around to see each other. Time will stand still, and the air will leave our lungs in unison. Then, we’ll remember ourselves, and life will go on. And he’ll be tall, with caramel skin and kind eyes. And I’ll like his kinda-accent, and I’ll like his tattoos… And something just tells me he plays baseball… And hey, maybe he’ll have a mustache too… And I’ll be all confident and put his game to shame, telling him he can have the blueberries, if I can have his number - A trade he’ll more than gladly exchange… And we’ll both leave, with heads full of stars, and skipping hearts, and no blueberries.
…
Time will go on,
He will pursue me,
Like a Hunter,
Like a bloodhound.
He will chase me,
And fight for me,
And win me,
To keep me.
…
He will protect me fiercely,
And worship the ground I walk on,
And spoil me,
Giving me every last little thing I want.
…
He'll show me off,
His beautiful prize,
His beautiful wife.
…
He will look at me with adoration,
Like God's chosen one,
His holiest of all creations.
…
He will not limit me,
He will only support me,
He will only adore me.
He will be amazed by me,
He will help me grow,
And he will keep me safe as I do so.
…
So where are you baby?
I'm right here waiting for you…
…
Who are you?
I don’t know…
But I know who you aren’t -
…
Not Him,
Not Him.
…
Not my Dear John,
Not my Dear John.
…
And even though it breaks my heart,
Not my brown eyed boy…
Not my brown eyed boy.
