BPD: Friendship Betrayal – Sexual Assault & Accused of “Playing the Victim Card”

If you’ve experienced sexual abuse or assault, the following post could be potentially triggering.

This article was written in August 2018.

As someone whose fear of abandonment is as extreme as it is, the very last thing you would ever expect me to do is put an end to what little relationships I still had in my life. Self-sabotage and attempts to push people away out of my own fears and insecurities, sure. That’s not an uncommon cycle of symptoms for borderline personality disorder. But never would you see me leave a friendship behind on purpose. I’d never make that decision — I couldn’t.

I push people away; I test the limits of what someone is willing to put up with and for how long. More often than not, I’m not actually truly aware that this is what I’m doing. It’s self-sabotage. It’s also a kind of self-defense mechanism.

To the outside world, to the people on the other side of it, I can guess it looks and feels a lot like manipulation.

The idea of choosing to leave someone in the past, especially when I don’t have many people in my life anymore to begin with, is one of the hardest things to wrap my head around. Even still, 10 weeks after I suddenly found myself in this very situation, the thought is absolutely ludicrous.

My last true friend — whom I’d grown up with, who literally saved my life after a suicide attempt and whom I trusted more than anyone… violated that trust.

Hanging out on the day in question, he was suddenly quick to change his mind about how much time he had for me that afternoon. It was originally just a quick trip into town for some groceries — any excuse to get out of my isolation and even better, back with my best friend, no matter how little time. He has a busy life. So, it meant a lot to me on the drive home when he suggested we watch a movie or a couple episodes of a TV show — he could squeeze that into his day. Anything he did meant a lot to me, especially when he’d find some extra time like this to hang out and keep me company.

So, the unimaginable happened. And in the aftermath of it all, it’s been a lonely battle in my BPD mind of knowing this new isolation I’ve found myself in is for the best.

To this day I still can’t imagine what he was thinking.

Nothing violent occurred, but he crossed lines he had no right in crossing — as a friend, as someone with a significant other, as someone who knew about my past physical and sexual assaults. Just as a human being in general.

What should’ve been just 80 minutes of enjoying catching up on a TV show together, turned into 80 minutes of me on the brink of a full-on panic attack, of me wanting to break out of his hold and off of that couch, wanting to scream and cry and yell at him, get his hands off of me, away and out of my house. But instead, I stayed frozen. Considering the situation being the very last thing I could ever imagine happening with him, it dawned on me I clearly didn’t know what he was capable of.

No, the assault wasn’t violent, but he had no right in touching me like that. Knowing how fragile a state I was in at that time — he took advantage of it. He knew better than to touch me anywhere close to where he did.

He’s the nice guy; the one who talked about how disgusting the stigma was that women are actually ashamed and scared to say anything, afraid of not being believed — of the victim shaming. When I’d start to blame myself for what happened, or even question if it was my fault, he’d put a stop to it.

And now, here we are. From denying anything happened, then saying he didn’t think it was a big deal… to accusing me of harassing his girlfriend (which was me simply telling her what happened and saying no to her insistence to fix things — which meant she clearly didn’t believe me). And worst of all — he accused me of playing the victim card.

There’s no justifying his actions or reactions. He stopped being my friend that day. And it was both the easiest and hardest decision I’ve had to make. But I made it without hesitation because I don’t want someone like that in my life, even if they were the last person in it. Even though it means making my worst fear as someone with BPD come true. It’s what’s best for me and my well-being — my safety.

I’m an open book. I wear my heart on my sleeve, even though I’m both ashamed and embarrassed of my life (and lack of one) I know I’m not alone in this. I’m not alone in the isolation and anxieties of BPD. I’m not alone in being left, or betrayed, or violated. I know this, but I still feel like it all the time. I feel like an idiot, honestly. How could I have been so wrong about someone I’d known most of my life?

So after all that being said, though written long before now, this poem of mine still feels very relevant. It’s something I desperately needed, still need, to hear… and I know someone out there right now needs to hear it too.

Saying “I’m sorry” might not mean much, but I mean it.
I’m sorry for the hurt. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through
and for all of the people who left you.

The way we love is unique and special, and
they don’t know what they’re missing — pity them.
They lied and betrayed you, leaving you alone
in pieces over their abandonment;
no goodbyes or explanations — they took the coward’s way out.
Be grateful to at least know the truth, even without the details.
You do not want or need people like that in your life.

And I know it doesn’t take away that ache in your chest and
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, more than I can say, that they turned out
to be temporary or even worse — one of life’s lessons.
But you will find people who are meant to stay,
or they’ll find you. You will. Maybe not today or tomorrow.
Be patient, do not give up hope.
Do not shut everyone out, no matter how tempting.

Your mental illness is something that makes you special.
The ability to love and feel like we do is special,
despite it feeling more like a curse most days.

We are not meant to go through this world alone.
Remember that. Make peace with it and take care of yourself.

You do deserve love. To love and be loved in return.
It won’t be like this forever. It won’t always be like this.
Being open and able to trust, to live with your heart
on your sleeve is a gift and
I am so sorry they took advantage.

And I know saying “I’m sorry” doesn’t mean much… 

but I mean it.

https://themighty.com/2019/05/borderline-personality-disorder-sexually-assaulted-friend/

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BPD, Heartbreak & Valentine’s Day

This isn’t necessarily exclusive to the upcoming “holiday,” but in light of Valentines Day approaching, I thought the timing was right. That, and the fact that this just recently happened near the end of January, so it’s all still very fresh in my mind and my emotions are still raw.

With or without a mental illness, with or without a significant other — February 14th can be a particularly hard day for people due to the fact that it’s simply everywhere. There’s really no escape of being reminded. I have the same hard time specifically with New Years. Even the popularized “Galentine’s Day” thanks to the TV show “Parks and Recreation,” is now something I struggle to avoid being reminded of. These occasions being about celebrating with your loved one(s).

But right now, the struggle for me is that commercial holiday coming up on February 14th — Valentine’s Day. I want to avoid sounding like that cliche, bitter upset girl who doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with. Because for the most part, that’s not what it’s really about. It’s more just funny timing being close to the 14th.

I have a number of mental illnesses. The most predominate being borderline personality disorder (BPD). And the man I fell for but am no longer with, broke my heart recently by using my BPD against me. Unfortunately, he used symptoms of the disorder — which are not actually true to me — as excuses and reasons not to be with me, or even directly talk to me on the phone or in person. I don’t know which hurts most — that or him saying he just doesn’t have feelings for me anymore.

Along with this, I’ve had a difficult time ignoring it. I want to ignore it because of how deep the words he said cut me and because I’m sick of crying. So I try not to think about it. Meaning, I haven’t been writing — not just about this, but in general. Writing is not just something I like to do — it’s a part of who I am. A huge part. And for the last week or so since it happened, I allowed him to take away this essential part of me because I was tired and afraid to feel or acknowledge the reality of the situation. I still am, honestly. But in doing so I’ve restricted myself from healing — my writing, which I know is only doing more harm whether I see it or not. Things get harder before they get easier. You have to hurt in order to heal. 

A sort of writer-friend of mine told me something the day after that I’ve held onto — put it into my art. No shame in staying in bed all day, but refuse to let him take away my words. This is the time to cry, write and let it out. “You’ll be amazed at what heartache can create,” she said.

Mental illness is what had connected us in the first place when we met — we were working together temporarily. A couple days into the job, I was just having a bad day. And he saw that. He recognized someone with more going on inside than they let come to the surface, something he related to. And so that was the first time we talked to each other. What was the most refreshing thing was was his “no nonsense” approach. Instead of tiptoeing around and walking on eggshells like everyone else, he said what he was thinking, he was blunt. More than that, he was vulnerable back with me about himself. While we don’t share any disorders, he’s experienced his own fair share of anxiety and depression. 

From the very beginning of our friendship, before the beginning of us dating, he knew about my diagnoses. Always asked about my BPD or anxieties, just trying to understand it and me a bit better. Even throughout us dating, I often tried helping him to better understand what my mental illnesses made me felt, why they affected me in the ways that they did.

He knew. I opened up to him about everything. And despite my insistent, “You’re going to get sick of me,” “You’re going to regret me,” he wanted a relationship. He assured me he knew that maintaining a relationship would be difficult, but he knew the signs of a bad day, the symptoms that affected me the most and I didn’t mean any negative things I may or may not say — some days are harder to keep under control than others, especially when it came to my BPD.

In the beginning, he did an honest job of trying/understanding. But it quickly became apparent when he wasn’t trying anymore — when he was giving up.

What’s someone like myself who lives with BPD like?

My moods can change in the blink of an eye. The “go away, don’t leave me” routine. I could be doing fine months or even years, but then wake up one random morning wanting to die all over again. I tend to feel a lot more than others, on a higher and more extreme level. I can’t think of a word strong enough for the fear of abandonment and/or rejection. I’m incredibly sensitive and take things to heart a lot of the time.

Sometimes I have a hard time showing my emotions, or am just too scared to for fear of being judged, rejected or abandoned. Sometimes I self-sabotage. Sometimes I don’t feel enough; through the constant feelings of worthlessness, sadness or self-hatred, it can become easy to internalize everything and make myself numb. On purpose or not. Because of this, I’m often called or thought of as unlikable, uncaring and hard to deal with or be around. I tend to look too deeply into what is being said to me. Therefore I’m accused of making something out of nothing — creating problems for myself and those in our lives. I am called an attention-seeker. More often than not, I’m accused of being manipulative. My feelings tend to be invalidated. I can be called a liar. People can think I’m difficult or I’m overreacting. I’m in extreme pain. A lot of us scared and embarrassed; ashamed of being this way, even though it wasn’t a choice. 

We know it’s exhausting to be around us because we’re the ones actually having to live with it.

We live with one of the most stereotyped, stigmatized mental disorders out there.

And despite all of the assurance he’d given me, last week I found myself — my self-worth, my very being — being torn and belittled by the man I love. And it was one of the most painful of heartbreaks I’ve ever experienced. Hurt turned into anger and back to hurt again. It just keeps repeating.

Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe these things don’t make sense to be hurt over. But the reality is is that it does hurt. And it’s easier said than done to “not think about it.”

In the midst of this heartbreak, I can’t seem to escape the fact that February 14th is coming up. Going over the same questions… How am I ever going to find someone who will understand, still want to be with me and actually stay if he of all people couldn’t in the end? 

I know I’m not someone who is particularly fun to be around. I think I’m pretty forgettable. I feel way too much and that makes me hard to love. But it’s not my fault. This wasn’t a choice. And I am not my disorder.

What It’s Like to Be Heartbroken on Valentine’s Day When You Have Borderline Personality Disorder

Summer Pop-Punk Days | June Gloom + July Sunshine | Hungover Love (poems)

Proud to have three of my poems published in my friend Jen Roomes’ kickass zine crapnation!

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Hush (poem)

Got this little poem called “Hush” published today over at Horn & Ivory Zine for their last issue!

Fun story behind it – I wrote it during my recovery from surgery back in January while loving my life on morphine! I have very little memory of actually writing it but I’m proud of it. It’s actually a song still in progress – the poem version of it just got published first.

Thanks to the folks at H&I ❤

HUSH
by forrest jamie
He’s playing me
acoustic heartbreak in
the scale of Lies
but it’s my time now. It’s my turn
so hush down and close your eyes.
No, you don’t know this one,
only I know the words to this song.
Hush down now and close your eyes.
I’ll sing us to sleep –
you for a few hours,
me forever.
A Tylenol lullaby bye baby,
composed of some whiskey and codeine.
A cocktail hymn of shallow breaths and SSRIs.
My narcotic lullaby bye baby,
for your ears and one night only.
Under stainglass stars and porcelain moonlight.
My lethal lullaby bye baby,
my song of goodnight
(goodbye.)
hi

One Year (April 17th 2016)

April 17th 2016. A day I won’t forget – can’t forget.

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Today marks one year since my last suicide attempt.

On this day in 2016 I swallowed a cocktail of pills, slit wrists. And I was saved by two friends.

Life has changed in so many ways since that day. Some for better, some for not. And some things are exactly the same. It’s crazy thinking back on what I’ve been through in just a year. So much. Too much, at times. I look different now, in a very noticeable way if you know me. Last year I was already fading fast and it’s all taken its toll on me, both physically and emotionally.

Heartbreak and betrayal. Successes and failures. Friends found and lost. Illnesses and surgery. Abandonment.

So many ups and downs.

I’m still just a fragile girl, a scared girl, lost and unsure. Loneliness is still my closest friend, but I’m moving forward in life. I’m making things happen. Things I never would have thought possible on this day last year.

Baby steps.

A year ago today I gave up on life. But I’m still here. I wanted it all to end but two amazing people saved me that day, and I found hope. I’m still here.

Coda, Poetry by Forrest Jamie

Thanks as always, WILDsound ❤

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

 Genres: Breakup, Closure, Heartbreak, Love, Relationships, Romantic, The End

—-

Darling boy
I know how this story goes –
it’s ours, after all
and I could read it
with my eyes closed.
And why must re-reading those chapters
of our one-sided love story
hurt so good?

You said that
my coffee brown eyes felt like home,
but you’re the wandering kind
and so
the timing is all wrong.
You never stay (in one place)
for too long.

I’m an open book.
I give myself to you
anywhere
anytime
and every time,
you leave with another torn up page of me
but I couldn’t care less if I tried.

We will always be
my favourite
romantic tragedy.
 

 

 

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Deadline: FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Poetry performance readings:

Watch…

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The Best and Worst of 2016

2016 has been a clusterfuck, we can all agree to that I think. But in some ways, this year has been the best I’ve had in a long, long time… which is fucking sad, considering.

Let’s get the worst out of the way – my health, both physical and mental. At the beginning of the year, I was diagnosed with BPD and PTSD. Learning how to live with these and my other diagnoses continues to be a struggle. There are good days and bad days. Always will be. These things are not curable.

I did attempt suicide in April. Not awesome.

Other health stuff that’s going on physically, which are irrelevant for what this blog is about. But lots going on there… Though I will say – 2 days ago, the 13th, I was in the hospital again and finally got an answer to an ongoing problem I’ve had since I was a teenager – gallstones. Yup. One of the causes is rapid weight loss which is more than likely the case here.

Experienced my first real heartbreak, and fucked up my friendship with him along the way. Also not awesome.

But when I think about it…there’s actually been a lot of good.

Starting with reconnecting with one of my oldest friends that I grew up with. It was right at the beginning of the year and I honestly don’t know if I’d even be here right now if I hadn’t reached out to him. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I would not be here. Not enough words to describe how thankful I am for him putting up with me hah – he’s a true, genuine friend. He does his best to understand what I’m going through with my mental health and everything else, has supported and encouraged me with my writing. And it’s just been good to have that again – just having a friend, you know? Someone who has known me for most of our lives.

Getting to know a friend of sorts better – over skype and texts and online. She called me in the hospital after my suicide attempt and got me through that first night. She just has the kindest heart. We have some very big differences but that doesn’t stop either of us from appreciating eachother. I’m so thankful to have gotten to know her.

Another friendship this year. We’re polar opposites but similar in so many ways, and I love that. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a friendship like that – that girl friend all girls have where you just kinda click and it’s easy (for the most part lol, as all friendships go) and fun and special. I haven’t had that since highschool. I’m truly grateful for her. I’ve been burned so many times by people closest to me, and it’s been a challenge to put that trust in someone again… but no matter what, I can’t thank her enough.

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DBT is another good thing. It made me nervous and I was skeptical but it really was one of the best things I could’ve done for myself at the time.

I started volunteering at the SPCA. Honestly, those animals probably help me more than I help them. The best therapy.
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Kittens for days.
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Me and the big grey one here had a bond. He thought he wasn’t gigantic and could fit in your lap like a kitten. That’s all he ever wanted – the comfort of contact. Didn’t take long for him to steal my heart. As happy as I am that he found a loving home, I’ll forever miss my huge lap kitty. Lol saying goodbye was emotional for me.
And then there’s my writing. This time last year, on a whim, I emailed one of my favourite authors about this book idea I had and her confidence in saying that I do have a talent and something important to say, a story to tell, completely blew me away. It took a while, until June, to actually start submitting my writing to places, but I did it. And it’s been terrifying and so exciting. My first publication in print was such a surreal time. Believing in myself is a very new thing…but I’m trying my best. Thank you Charlotte, for lighting that spark in me.

It hasn’t been an easy year but I have made progress. I can only hope my recovery continues.

Make Me Forget, Poetry by Forrest Jamie

Thank you, WILDsound ❤

WILDsound Festival

Genres: Breakup, Denial, Friendship, Hurt, Love, One-sided, Painful, Relationships, Sad, Unrequited, Used

Your mouth leaves bruises and it makes me forget.
Forget you’re anything but mine and
tonight is all we have
and you’re lying.
Lying to yourself and a girl who is powerless to unlove you
because somehow it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter when you’re holding me
that you’ll leave soon after.
Because it’s so easy to ignore the future
when you’re on top of me
trailing kisses down a familiar path
and when your lips burn bright
so I don’t think about the aftermath.
It doesn’t matter,
because we’re so good you make me forget
and you count on that.
So why agonize when you’re here
that soon you’ll be there
but there has to be something more that keeps you coming back
and you’ll always make sure I forget that.

 

 

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Read NEW Poetry Readings from all over the world – October 2016 — WILDsound Writing and Film Festival Review

Thank you, WILDsound ❤

Deadline to Submit your FREE Poetry to the Festival: http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html OTTAWA, by Forrest Jamie https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/ottawa-poetry-by-forrest-jamie/ WALLS OF FLESH, by Shannon Rohn https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/walls-of-flesh-poetry-by-shannon-rohn/ LESSONS ON THROWING SHADE, by Nigel Toussaint Bray https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/lessons-on-throwing-shade-poetry-by-nigel-toussaint-bray/ FAREWELLS OF MT. AUBURN, by Mark Curtis Dunn https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/farewells-of-mt-auburn-poetry-by-mark-curtis-dunn/ THE COLDEST WINTER, by MS the Secret https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/the-coldest-winter-poetry-by-m-s-the-secret/ IN DARKNESS, by Kerry Valkyrie Baldock Kelly https://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2016/09/16/in-darkness-poetry-by-kerry-valkyrie-baldock-kelly/ %5B…%5D

via Read NEW Poetry Readings from all over the world – October 2016 — WILDsound Writing and Film Festival Review

Short Story: One More Last Call by Forrest Jamie

2nd day in a row my name was published incorrectly lol…but this is still hella cool. Thanks WILDsound for this and the cool little interview, and shoutout to Becky Shrimpton for reading my short story 🙂

Novel Writing Festival

Watch the July 2016 Winning Short Story Reading. 

One More Last Call  by Forrest Simcoe

Reading Performed by actor Becky Shrimpton

Get to know the winning writer: 

1. What is your 1pg Short Story about?

My story is about two people coming to terms with the fact that their relationship is over. It starts in the aftermath of the breakup, and so much of their history is hinted at throughout the story. This is their final goodbye to each other; accepting that it’s the end for them not only as lovers, but for their deep friendship as well.

2. What genres would you say this short story is in?

Drama, Romance.

3. How would you describe this story in two words?

Love. Acceptance.

4. What movie have you seen the most in your life?

Oh man, it’s probably a tie between Donnie Darko and A Walk to Remember – two vastly different…

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