I'm going to admit something here that I can't discuss with my family: I suffer from borderline personality disorder.
I've tried explaining this to them, but it never goes well. They tell me I need to pray, that god will grant me peace...all the usual garbage that people who don't believe in therapy vomit out to people who desperately need it in order to keep the brain from lashing out against themselves.
If you've read my past blog posts you can probably see that my family is essentially a giant group of triggers, as well as potentially part of the source of my disorder.
It doesn't feel right blaming them for my brain lashing out against me, and part of the person I am wants to make excuses for them. I want to understand why they stood by while my grandfather molested children. I want to understand my mother's use of the silent treatment with her kids, or my aunts regularly comparing me to my older cousin and finding me coming up short. I love them in my own broken way, and the mantra growing up was that, "no one loves you like family."
I'm used to feeling judged, but occasionally I can't handle it in a healthy way. In the past I've lashed out, against myself mostly. I've never treated myself like I like myself, because largely I do not. Because I don't like myself I find myself very suspicious of anyone who claims to love me. I assume they don't know the real me, because if they did they would make a run for it.
So the things I've talked about here: my mother's refusal to talk to me when she first learned I was an atheist, my best friend of a decade abruptly cutting off communication, my family's judgement of my inability to forgive the man who molested me... I may write about them with an air of disgust--but in person all of that disgust is focused inwards.
I don't know what I hope to achieve by writing about this here. I'm currently in a "devaluation" cycle and I'm just basically spending my free time doing my best to stay calm. It wasn't even something big that triggered me, just a friend saying to me and another mutual friend, "________ I love everything about you. Carol, I love everything except your nervousness."
I've basically dissected that off-hand comment to the point where I have utterly convinced myself that yet another person is sick of my crap. Do I know that I'm over-analyzing? Oh, hell yes. The real son-of-a-bitch that comes with a personality disorder is that pure logic like that doesn't fucking register.
I am not some girl interrupted who wants to boil your bunnies. I am an emotional person who, on a good day will give you the shirt off my back and a shoulder to cry on. I just don't really believe that anyone would possibly want to deal with me on my bad days of crying and hating myself.
I know that this post is only loosely connected to atheism, I could try and force a connection. Growing up I was taught that there was this being who loved unconditionally, provided you didn't kill his love for you with sin. The "sins" of my sexual awakening, my religious doubts and rebellion against my family tortured me in ways that I can only hint at. If I was shitty enough to make god stop loving me, then what was I supposed to expect from mere mortals?
I don't know how to end this blog post. Like I said, I'm not in a good place mentally, so my usual pithy remarks are absent.
This isn't a cry for help, it's just admitting I'm not as strong as I wish I were.