Despite the fact my internet business had record website traffic and customer acquisition for the month of September, I’ve spent the majority of the past 2 weeks in bed, depressed and feeling miserable. Even worse, I’ve felt utterly empty, lacking any desire for life. I feel more content dreaming in bed, where my mind is free from the shackles of Borderline Personality Disorder. If there is a bright side to any of this, it’s that my sub-conscious doesn’t have BPD. Unfortunately for me, my “real time”, waking conscious is nothing but BPD, aching and painful to the touch.
Some people might ask, “What does it mean to feel empty and worthless?” After all, you run your own business, are in better economical shape than most, do what you want with your time, and have a couple good friendships. On top of that you alone have put together a substantial collection of rare and highly sought after USA paper money, enviable by most standards given the value of the collection is well into six figures.
My answer: feeling worthless and hollow emanates from a really deep place inside me, far past the material comfort and achievement layer that floats safely on the surface of my inner being. Making and saving a few bucks doesn’t do it for me. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. Instead, I am lonely, depressed, sad, and hopeless.
I’m 32, single, never married, and do not have children. By my age, most people are at minimum in a long term relationship; or at least have had a couple worthwhile long term relationships to date. I haven’t. My longest relationship was 5 months. All the others fizzled out after a month or two. Likewise, my attempts to meet people using services like eHarmony.com fail miserably: most women I am “matched” with don’t even reply to my emails. The women I’ve loved in my past look at me like paintings on a wall. They exist in an empty gallery that no one sees except for me. They are a constant reminder of what “could have been”.
Instead, these wonderful women have pressed forward with their lives, married, and have beautiful children. The singles scene is long gone for them. They don’t come home to an empty apartment. They haven’t disappointed their family by living adrift like I have. My mother famously said last Christmas, “…I’d like some grand children…”. One of my brothers is married with a step child. Another is most likely homosexual and has a good relationship with his partner outside the boundaries of my family; and the other most “normal” brother of mine has a great relationship with a woman he’ll most likely marry in short order. He’s got plenty of time: he’s six years my junior and doesn’t cope with any of the expectations and guilt that the rest of the family puts on me as a 32 year old bachelor.
Last year I adopted an abandoned kitten off the street. I love her MOST of the time, while there are moments I despise her presence and want to forget she exists. Fortunately for her, there is a modicum of decency within me that prevents me from such indifference; and demands that I provide adequate food, shelter, and health care for her. She would like to have more people or cats around. She gets occasional feline visitors but can only interact through a window. Sadly, because she was feral, I keep her indoors except for a fully enclosed patio space where her litter box resides. I suppose she is happy living in a state of ignorance. Wouldn’t a cat be happier with another to play with or a family to keep her busy?
The way my relationship with my cat fluctuates serves as a good barometer for how BPD sabotages my life. I love her. I hate her. I want her in my lap. I want to lock her in the closet. These feelings indicate BPD is alive and well inside me. If she were human, she would have left me months ago, hating me all the way out the door. This is why I’m afraid of getting into a relationship: If I meet “the one” I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, will BPD make it all blow up in my face before I can put a ring on her finger?
I suppose this realization explains the empty and worthless feelings within me. If I can’t maintain the bare minimum of human existence – that being a loving relationship with another – what do I really have to live for? Surely there has to be more to my existence than feeling like shit all the time. Why do I have BPD? Why am I Type 1 Diabetic? Why can’t I just be happy, healthy, and satisfied with my life?