Have I mentioned I suck at endings? It’s like the BPD starter kit: Here, have a bunch of unmanageable emotions and a pathological inability to deal with anything finishing – good luck!
Today was the big, everyone-gets-issued-their-final-grades-for-the-course-I-help-run meeting at college. And it went fairly well. Not awesome, but it was fine. When it came to signing off the final documents, I was shaking. Afterwards, I was to be found alternately crying and chain smoking. My (lovely as ever) colleagues were, I suspect, rather puzzled. They were probably relieved it was over, fairly satisfied with the outcome, keen to get home…….. Everybody wants to get away. But not me. I don’t want it to be over. God knows why. It’s been bloody knackering and stressful and far from fun. But at least there was a point. A goal. And now it’s over. And everybody is HAPPY it’s over. Except me.
Because what the fuck do I do now? What’s the point of me if I’m not doing that? It was a reason to get up, keep going…. and now it’s gone. Gaping emptiness awaits. My legs don’t want to work, don’t want to propel me to the car.
I know this is all total bollocks by the way. There is still work to be done, friends to be seen, adventures to be enjoyed, new things to begin. But just in the moment…….. desolation. And even worse, no one else is feeling it. I’m supposed to be happy.
I am torn. I need the next thing. Doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, I need some …. stimulation (sorry L, I stole your word, but it’s exactly the right word and now I can’t settle for a different one). Good would be nice – a new project, a race to run, a trip, a new beginning, but bad will do…. medical crisis, sudden deadline at work, someone needs my help… I’ll take that instead. Just something to do, to be needed. So that super-efficient-mature-sensible Caroline can get back in charge. Instead of this………emptiness. But it’s not actually what I need. Because I’m also fucking knackered.
This too shall pass says my tattoo. Well, that quote should have been written about BPD. Because one of upsides is that it does. And……Oh God, it pains me to say this…….. I think DBT might actually work. Because this was a cloud burst. Not monsoon season, not raining for 40 days and 40 nights, let’s build an ark, it’s the end of the fucking world. Just a little storm. And it passed. And now, I’m laying on my daybed (literally best item of furniture ever invented), quite calm and rational, writing this (okay, I’ve just had to endure my tone-deaf neighbour murdering ‘Flying without wings’, but….). And I’m okay. Better than okay. I’m content. I’m going to have a shower, watch some TV, have a nice chai latte. And it will be fine.
So, rather than sending me another crisis to take the place of the one I’ve just had, could someone please pop round with a pepperoni pizza (yes, I’m vegetarian, but this is fantasy land, so hey) and one of those Bon Mamon deserts that taste exactly like butterscotch Angel Delight? Close the door quietly on your way out…….. Ta muchly.