Lamb

I fucking hate you.

I'm sick of you being fucking scared of me. Fucking scared of my reaction.

I'M SICK OF YOU WALKING ON EGG SHELLS.

What do you think I am going to do if you just be honest? Hit you? What? Surely you fucking know.

You can never be fucking honest with me.

Everything about you says that you are scared of me. Your body language. The look on your face. The things you say and avoid to say. Everything.

You are literally walking on egg shells.

And yet you chose to provoke me in front of my daughter? When all I am trying to do is protect her from my disorder? Why would you do that? I am not capable of switching it on and off. But you are. You have a fucking choice.

Why are you afraid to say what you're thinking to me? Why did you feel the need to hover around my house? What, in hope that I would be like "Help me, I need help. Please hug me". That's never going to happen. You made me feel like you were there to try and look after me, like I wouldn't be ok. I felt suffocated by your uneasiness. The way you crept around the house, like I would break if you said anything "wrong". The way you act as if I am so fucking fragile. I am stronger than you.

You know what my daughter just said to me? "He is scared of you".

Thanks. Thanks so fucking much.

You constantly seek reassurance in me. You are not healthy for me. You do not make me feel good because you act so unsure, so scared. You're consistent, which is good - I need stability. But what is not good is that you're consistent at being unsure how to be around me. Sometimes I feel like your therapist.

Your uncertainty unsettles me. It makes me question myself. It makes me feel ashamed. It makes me feel invalid. It makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel selfish. It makes me feel alone. It makes me feel that I am not right in the head, that I am all wrong, that I was made wrong.

My therapist said to me, "There is nothing wrong with you. You do not need to change. Everybody has their flaws. Everybody. You understand that your life experiences make you vulnerable, you are aware of that. But it is not about change. It is about modifying our negative thoughts, feelings and behaviour to help you cope better. There is nothing wrong with you".

Your uncertainty unsettles me right to the core. It shakes me up. My head feels like it's going to explode everytime you are around me.

You treat me as if I am ill. You treat me as if I am an invalid. You do not just acknowledge that I am struggling. You make a show of it. You treat me like I can't cope. You make me feel like a psychopath.

I do not want to be labelled. But you shout that label out: "SHE HAS BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER!! SHE IS ILL! AH THAT'S WHY SHE IS LIKE SHE IS! IT'S NOT HER FAULT!"

Excuses. Excuses. Shitting excuses.

I am not just a "borderline".

I am a human being.

I have feelings.

I have thoughts.

I hurt when I bang my head.

My shit doesn't smell like roses.

I express my emotions.

I look awful when I wake up.

I cry when I am sad.

I am not just a "borderline".

I have a name.

The Bernard Bert