Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce: Dr. Rational Brains and Mr. BPD, the good and the bad cop of my thoughts. They will be your hosts for tonight – a Friday night after a very stressful week with too little time to recover. A Friday night after a long time of fighting. A Friday night of madness. Let the show begin!
Dr. R.B.: Wow, this week has been tough -let’s just relax this weekend and not do anything triggering.
Mr. BPD: Right…it has been tough. But you know how it would have been better if you hadn’t been such a wuss?
Dr. R.B.: Hey, you can’t do more than work, right? You’ve done your best. It’s fine now…Let’s play the guitar!
Mr. BPD: If this was your best…Oh my goodness! If I didn’t know what song this is I wouldn’t recognize it!
Dr. R.B.: Sorry, I’m still learning it.
Mr. BPD: You suck! It’s simple as that. You s-u-c-k. Oh, and by the way, behind your back there’s something very, very frightening…
So I jump and my heart rate increases and I start freaking out although I know there’s nobody there.
Mr.BPD: See, like I said – you’re a wuss! What’re you gonna do now in order to calm down? Call your yoga teacher and ask her to breathe through it with you?
Dr. R.B.: Oh give me a break! Let’s do some autogenic training, we just have to calm down a little, right?
Mr. BPD: Exactly, just think of cats and rainbow coloured unicorns and everything’s going to be fluffy and fine.
Dr. R.B.: Stop doing that! You’re only making it worse!
Mr. BPD: You mean the emptiness you’re feeling? This grey fog that’s hiding everything you’d like to see? That’s not me. That’s you realizing that whatever you do it will never be enough…by the way do you know about this scarless spot on your right thigh…?
Dr.R.B.: Stop doing this.
Mr. BPD: Yeah, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I also know you’d love to feel this body you’re trying to protect…
Dr. R.B.: Shut the fuck up! We’ve gone nine months or so without.
Mr. BPD: But the blood would make you feel so alive…and like you said, it’s been too long a time now…
Dr. R.B.: Okay look, here’s an icecube on your arm and curry under your nose and you’re right here, right now and worth protecting yourself, okay?
Mr. BPD: How is holding yourself back from something you want a protection? Do you call getting sick because of the pressure you don’t release protection?
Dr. R.B.: I…how about calling somebody? That would be the right thing to do.
So I take the phone. And dial a number. And delete it again.
Mr. BPD: These poor people who have to be your friends and family…you’re talking about your life being hard all the time and now you want to make their life miserable by telling them this bullshit on a Friday night? That’s disgustingly weak and selfish.
Dr. R.B.: But…cats and rainbow coloured unicorns…
Mr. BPD: But the thrill and the release and the…
So I do it. It’s so frighteningly easy. I don’t feel ashamed. I just don’t care very much.
Dr. R.B.: At least talk to someone now, you don’t want to hide all the time again, right? And it was an isolated incident, it doesn’t mean you’re losing control. We made it for nine months, you are really strong.
Mr. BPD: Blablabla…you’re weak and you know it!
Dr. R.B.: But this is what you wanted, right! You did this!
So I finally call somebody. And I feel so good afterwards (thank you!). I wonder if it was the only way. And of course it wasn’t – there’s always an option. But then again, both cops shut up right now and that’s something that happens very rarely…