I must confess, I’m quite a bit proud of myself. After I had drunk too much yesterday without any reason and was again tempted today to prepare some delicious mixed drinks, I did not succumb to it and remained alcohol-free. That’s in consideration of the fact that I neither exercised nor was productive in any other way today and also suffer from a certain sleep deficit, which in turn leads to less self-control, not such a bad yield of the day. Furthermore, I saw Endgame in the cinema for the second time. Conclusion: Yup, still a damn good film. In addition, I took another step towards normalizing my social behavior by asking Natalia whether we finally wanted to meet in person. She seems to be a very reasonable, consistent person with clear ideas about life. Almost the exact opposite of my own broken personality. What could possibly go wrong? Probably everything. Which, considering my background of experience, wouldn’t be so far off, of course, but in the end there are hardly any other options left to me than to try again. Which, of course, immediately raises the question of how I should talk to her about my whole self-drama. In my recent messages I have tried to at least let a hint of it echo, but the actual dimensions of the rat’s tail of my psyche can only be guessed based on them. On the other hand, waiting too long would be counterproductive and unfair. From this point of view, this could even lead to somewhat absurd and amusing situations: And how did you get to know each other? Oh, as usual during online dating and on the first date, I explained that I’ve been fighting with borderline for years, regularly injuring myself, conducting a dysfunctional relationship life and in general I’m the most unsuitable person for something like a life together. So the usual stuff. But I could also show her these lines here. Then I could save myself the many words and would have settled the most difficult part. Natalia, if you ever read this and I was crazy enough to let you share these thoughts: If you still want to spend time with me somehow, I would feel incredibly honored. Not only because I’m incredibly picky and think one could have a pretty good time with you, but also because very few neurotypical people get along with people like me. Well, who can blame them? After all I’ve been through in the last few years, it’s hardly surprising. But it gets better. Let’s see what my condition looks like after my stay at the clinic. Maybe after that, completely new options will open up again. At least it’s a realistic start, I think. My thoughts are jumping again. Should she actually read this here or only this short section above? That could possibly lead to more questions and confusion. Oh, it’s a misery. Social interactions are often so terribly complicated. In addition there is this whole poly story. How do I explain this? Not only borderliner, but also poly? Oh, boy. Experience has shown that this is not a good combination. Whereby, the last time was the story between Annabelle and I. From the beginning it wasn’t headed in a good direction anyway. Combine two unstable borderliners and you have – bingo, a huge, emotional drama that will fuck up at least one side properly. Unfortunately it was, once again, not mine. I should never have gotten involved. She did what I’ve been trying in vain for years: building something like a normal life. When someone like me steps into her life, it naturally causes quite a bit of upheaval. All the signs from the beginning indicated that it’s not a damn good idea if we both get involved and yet we did. Does she still think about it? We haven’t exchanged a single word in months, but hardly a day goes by without me thinking about it. But why? I feel nothing for her. No matter how hard I try, there is nothing left. Then why can’t I stop thinking about it? Is it self-pity? Am I looking for justification? Salvation? Catharsis is nonsense, so certainly not after that. But then what is it? Do I want everything to be as it once was? I with a healthy, emotional distance and she also not too close to me? I don’t know. It’s all so complicated. I do not understand my thinking and feelings at all. Once again. I have no idea how to classify and evaluate everything. Sometimes I feel as if I possess the emotional processing capacities of a five-year-old who is simply overwhelmed with himself and the world. Great prospect. Yippieayeh.
Got my letter of referral to the hospital. Now all I have to do is send it off. The first, very important step seems to be done. But without an external incentive it would probably never have happened. One of the advantages of extreme dependency in terms of social relationships is that it is impossible to break promises. Of course, always provided that you don’t split. But after all the shit and time Maya and I have been through together, it’s pretty unlikely I’ll ever split on her. Somehow reassuring. To know that at least this one constant will always be in my life – come what may. When she showed me, once again, what she has done for me during this long period of time, what hardships she has gone through because of me, I think I will never be able to return the favor. This woman saved my life in the truest sense of the word. Probably not just once. Cynics might say that without her I might never have come to this point. But with her my life became so much better. Because of her I understood at that time HOW intensely I can feel when it comes to it. No wonder it took me years to recover from the fact that despite my original expectations nothing happened. But despite everything we experienced together; no matter how difficult it was sometimes, we were always there for each other. She certainly did more for me than the other way around. To promise such a person that you will take the necessary steps to finally get the help you obviously need is very binding. I drink too much. Once again. I could curse my mother’s genes, which are predisposed to increased alcohol consumption, but in the end I just lack self-control. After all, I am no longer at drinking levels like I was during my active bar career. You might think it’s progress. But it’s not so great after all. And I write that while my brain has been in a medium state of intoxication for several hours now. So at least I’m not completely mentally at night, so I still notice such things and I can reflect about them somewhat adequately. Now all I have to do is draw the necessary conclusions. Cut the consumption. Once again. It is always healthier. Heavens, why can’t there be all this stuff without alcohol? I’m a taste fetishist, but this extremely unhealthy alcohol component is really annoying. Theoretically I could go to a Pisco tasting in a few hours. Considering my current condition and the fact that I already regret having drunk again anyway (and above all alone, hello, what’s up?!!), that wouldn’t be a very clever idea. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time that I don’t necessarily stand out with clever ideas. I just had to think several times about the internal logic of the last sentence to get the correct negation. I sincerely hope that I succeeded, otherwise my sober brain would be very embarrassed as soon as it reads this. That would be rather suboptimal. A ray of hope for tomorrow: I’ll have another look at Avengers: Endgame. Fantastic film. Yes, indeed, honestly. I liked it considerably more than Infinity War. An unimaginable amount of fan service and just a great movie experience. I think it’s the first film I’ve seen in a cinema for the second time since Inglorious Basterds. So that really stands for something. It will be good. I think. After all, I’m not alone, but have something like a social life along with me. Speaking of social life: Alicia has promised to stop by this weekend. I’m not so sure yet how I handle writing. Somehow it will be. In any case, it’s good to see each other. It’s been far too long since the last time and she belongs to those people who have always managed to steer a part of my extreme emotionality in meaningful directions. Sometimes thankfulness can no longer be translated into appropriate words. Obviously I have been incredibly lucky when it comes to the people in my life. That’s also kind of nice for a change.
It’s likely to be a hospital trip after all. Maya has persuaded me with her persuasive power to take care of a stationary admission. Sure, I’m feeling relatively well right now, but she pointed out that this is not a decisive criterion, as this mood can also quickly turn upside down again. When she reminded me that she had been with me for almost ten years now and had seen what this disease was doing to my life, I simply couldn’t disagree. All my knowledge, all the advice I give other people, I almost never use for myself. She said that my arrogance would eventually kill me because I am so presumptuous to believe that I can cope with this disease alone and overcome it on my own. I think it is time to admit to myself that I am unable to do so. I have tried it over the last few years, but if the last few months have shown me one thing, it is that this attempt has ultimately failed. I advise anyone suffering from a mental illness to seek professional help, but over the last few years I have done everything but listen to this advice. Maybe, no, no more maybe. Something definitely has to change. I have to change. Change my behaviour. One more time. If I want to survive the next few years, then I have to acknowledge that I need help from a doctor. That I can no longer do it alone, but better sooner than later do everything necessary to get along with myself and my life. I don’t know at this point how it looks with medication, because as far as I know there is no effective medication for the treatment of borderline and the last time I tried it (and when the diagnosis was not yet made) the consequences were rather unpleasant. Therapy will be absolutely necessary, so that I will learn strategies to deal better with the effects of the disease. I had always assumed that I only needed to read enough research to know what to do, and maybe that’s true. I probably have enough theoretical knowledge to actually know how to behave during these periods. However, it seems that all this knowledge is not enough to enable me to actually implement it. Or I overlook something essential. In any case, it is necessary for me, through professional care, to achieve the stability needed to restructure my life and live an organised life. Completely exaggerated, fucked-up characters are usually only exciting in movies, because we know that they fulfill their role within the structure of the movie and therefore work. But nobody sees how these people live their everyday lives. What daily challenges they have to struggle with and how difficult it is for them to get anything done in a reasonable way. I have felt this more than clearly in recent years. I have made so many mistakes, claim an unbelievably crappy impulse control to be my own and regularly lived a life to the limit and beyond. Of course such extremes are very attractive for an audience that sits comfortably in the cinema armchairs and is amused or repelled by the peculiarities of these people. But actually experiencing these excesses yourself is not necessarily the most enjoyable experience. I am not a movie or book character, rather I have a very real life. But living this life like a movie inevitably causes problems. If I ever write a book about how such a life actually feels, other people might understand that this is not a desirable state. Or maybe I’m also writing that book right now? Presumably, at least some of these thoughts will flow into the plot, for that they are too genuine and simply reflect too well through which extremes one walks almost daily. So there is probably something good about the fact that I take the trouble to write down this chaos. At some point I might actually be able to capitalize on it. A big toast to my materialistic worldview. It would be too bad, if I would use all these hours of writing only for myself, but nobody else. If I succeed in benefiting from it in a sustainable way, it would have its upside.