Are you ready for Part 2 from our friend LostInTransit? No need to delay. So where were we…
Confessions of a Male Borderline – Part 2
For one thing, I am not outwardly aggressive. I have a lot of aggression, but I tend to Act In, not Out. I can scream bloody murder in my head and picture the world going up in flames while helping an old lady cross the street with a smile on my face. Yes, I do get into fights every once in a while, but not more than any other person I guess. I do tend to get drawn to violent situations though. I even put myself in them for the adrenaline kick it gives me. Those situations and situations involving sex (I quickly started to combine the two) are the only situations I feel truly alive. The only few precious moments that the empty gaping void within me can be filled and I am truly in the here and now instead of locked up somewhere in my own head. I like demonstrations that get out of hand, fights that break out in the street, police chases, fires, well you name it. Please understand I don’t create them though, I merely manage to get involved in them if they happen. For example, a few weeks ago there was this big manhunt in my neighborhood for this burglar just as I came back from a party in the middle of the night. You can imagine what happened next. I was the one being stopped and frisked because I might be that burglar. Annoying? Yes. Exhilarating? Absolutely. It’s all I can do not to start running just to get the police to chase me. I guess that’s what makes me a high-level borderline, the ability to stem certain urges in their tracks before they get the best of me. But for the most part I keep up a façade and implode only when I’m at home and alone, taking it out on myself as best I can. I won’t pick a fistfight just because I feel bad, I tend to not want to bother others with my problems and prefer dealing with them alone and in the dark.
Like I already said I quickly started to combine sex and violence although not in the way you’re probably thinking of right now. I do not own a black van with tinted windows, I don’t lurk in parks to bother jogging women and I definitely never, ever raise a hand against my partner. No, it’s more subtle than that and I direct the violence at myself. Violence comes on many different levels, and need not involve hitting of any kind. I have always been highly sexual, finding from an early age how much sex interests me and always hungry for more. Sex is the thing to fill the emptiness within me. I use it to feel alive, and to connect to someone. In the heat of the moment, with two bodies using each other up to the core, that’s when I feel at peace with myself and the world. I feel one and whole instead of my usual shattered self. I depersonalize and derealize very quickly, and I need the touch of another person to know I’m there, to drag me back to the present and this earth. And the feeling that comes with an orgasm frees up the dopamine my mind seems to lack continuously. But of course, having sex every once in a while wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. After a sexual encounter I can last two days before getting edgy, a week before I get nervous and after that I feel like a heroin junkie in need of a quick fix. I have done it all. Watching endless amounts of porn, visiting prostitutes, phone sex, chat sites, cam sex, blind dates via the internet…
Ah yes, those… It is not a female prerogative to be promiscuous. Me, a heterosexual (well mostly) male, can be more promiscuous than any girl. I will stake my reputation on that. It’s very hard to get in touch with women over the internet (at least the non-paying kind) for the kind of blind date I was looking for so I resorted to gay sites instead. It was a goldmine. Most of the men coming on those sites are hidden gays with a wife and a job who don’t want their natural inclinations to come out in the open. I’m tall and very slender, with dark hair and I have this gothic vibe going on, complete with the tattoos and the black clothing. So they cued up for me. It was intoxicating to get someone, a man I have never met, who hasn’t even seen a photo of me yet, to beg for me to come over, especially after I revealed what I might let him do to me. It combined the kind of rush I need to kick start my brain. I was never certain what I would get into. Was it a hoax? Would I get beaten up and robbed (That actually nearly did happen to me once)? What if something happened and I would wake up seropositive or something? What if I got raped? With these kind of blind dates you simply don’t know what will happen. I found that dark unknown to be utterly exhilarating and I was living this hidden life next to my own everyday life. Online I would be someone else completely, with a fake name, a fake background, and I could switch between my personas with ease.
But of course no one can keep up that kind of thing for long. I was slowly self-destructing, letting myself be abused and used, and drowning in the murky swamps that have grown rife on the internet. I was a plaything, a toy for the pleasure of others, nothing more. And in the end it only fed the despair and the hopelessness I seem to have such an unlimited supply of. I knew it was only a matter of time before something truly bad would happen to me, something I could not recover from, so I opened up about it in therapy. It has lessened my behaviors, but I still haven’t found a constructive replacement for the ecstasy that comes with that kind self-destruction.
I never did substance abuse. For one, I’ve lived abroad for most of my life and we just didn’t have hard drugs back then. We did have weed, and I used that, but that was very much for recreational purposes, half the fun coming from it being illegal. I remember smuggling weed and joints in school and chases by armed military with tracker dogs in the middle of the night. When I moved, I quit because the fun got out of the stuff pretty fast. Also, people already used to think I was on drugs most of the time even when I was completely sober so I definitely didn’t need that to be able to party. I do drink and smoke though. I always find it difficult to draw the line between abuse and a “healthy” consumption of both alcohol and cigarettes. Admittedly, smoking three packs a day while drinking a bottle of vodka could be termed as substance abuse but I never did that. I am on the other hand, hooked on both and while my daily habits have never impaired my overall functioning it is something I have to keep a lid on.
I’ve always wanted to smoke. Don’t ask me why, it’s just one of these things you can crave and when I was fifteen I decided the time had come. I took to cigarettes right away and it’s a decision I never came to regret. For me, a cigarette represents a moment of relaxation and introspection, a moment that is truly mine. But I also am attracted to the slow destruction cigarettes came to represent. I like the idea of slowly wasting away my life, and help myself to what’s hopefully going to be an early grave. That comes under the header of self-destructive tendencies right there, and I know now that I will have to give up my favorite pastime in order to help tackle those tendencies and disturbing thoughts.
The same goes with alcohol. I know quite a lot about alcohol, I’ve worked in a liquor store and it’s something of a hobby of mine. I’m known for it and people often come to me with questions about what to buy or how something tastes. But I also use it to drown my sorrows. It’s one of the reasons that my evenings are usually better than my days. I keep a firm grip on myself and only drink in the evening and almost never to excess, but I am very much aware that all in all I partly drink for entirely the wrong reasons. It’s not something I need to give up straight away, but it is a point to consider.
Obviously, I could go on and on, but I will leave it that for now. What I have tried to do is paint a picture of borderline being not so black and white as most people think, but a spectrum disorder that has its overall focal points but is also unique to each individual, and a picture of a disorder that is strongly colored by cultural perceptions of gender differences, as viewed through my own personal experiences. Gender differences in BPD is a subject that is being researched more and more, but that definitely needs even more attention as I believe that it would come as a big benefit to therapists and patients. What’s more, it might help give a voice to those men out there who are borderline but don’t come out about it or can’t relate all that well. I thus gladly put out the call to let yourself be heard. Lastly I would like to thank Haven for this opportunity. Her blog is a daily source of much needed information, advice and understanding and I can only hope to contribute to that.