One last time, for bad time's sake

His text message hit the mark. He couldn’t know the damage it would cause when he fired that shot, but would be pleased at the pile of tears he left me in. All from a simple, well worded text message.

Why it mattered to me what he said or what he thought or felt about me I don’t know. For years now it hasn’t mattered, but yesterday, it did. I can’t explain why, but it did.

For a moment, an hour, I questioned everything, my ability, my worth, my abilities, my relationships. For a moment I agreed I was a mess, I couldn’t get it together, and I would end up causing more damage and harm than any good. For a moment, I saw myself through his eyes, and I hated what I saw.

I know that his eyes are filtered with hate and rage and disgust, and for a moment I could justify all of those things. For a moment I lost all my security and the solid ground on which I stood and my ability to stand up to him.

On Monday I start going to a new doctor who is an MD and a therapist as well. I will not only be seeing a doctor about my medications but will also be in therapy, learning to use the tools I will be given to deal with situations like above. I will be given the tools and the road map to ‘get my shit together’ and stop being a pain in everyone’s ass. Welcome to living with BPD. There will always be things, issues, that will always be unpleasant. They won’t always be the ones I’m faced with now, but there will always be… something.

A single text message set me back years. Took me back to a dark fearful evil place I swore I would never return to. I hate him for being able to disable me that easily. For being able to take away from me my security, my strength, my worth, my confidence, and leave me a weeping hot mess of insecurity.

That will be the last time.