OR: Is it the BPD or should I be keeping better tabs on my astrology? I don’t know but I fucking exhausted, y’all.
TW: Self INJURY
Back in the eclectic-exocentric days, I was more prone to just kind of talking about fucked up things that had happened to me, important life lessons I had learned recently, and recounting what was going on in my life. With carlykaxt, I’ve tried to be a little more focused with my writing, using my personal life as a way to relate to the topics chosen for each post. Today, however, I just… need to let some shit out. And it’ll wind up being related to Borderline Personality Disorder anyway I’m sure because the past week has felt reminiscent of a chapter from 2012.
Where do I even start?
Last week was Thanksgiving, as all my American readers are aware. I was in my hometown visiting family, as well as helping my mother into her new apartment. My mom, aside from being too old to move furniture in general, is disabled so I was there for just about every step of the process. Prior to the actual moving however, I had a few nights to just hang out. A recipe for disaster.
My Google Assistant played Devil’s Advocate as I had her flip coin after coin to determine everything I did – should I drink more? Should I message my ex? Should I cut myself?
Google must have been feeling particularly frisky because she told me to do literally everything I asked her. Once I was sufficiently wasted, I suddenly got very interested in theology. I texted my Christian friend in my inebriated state, asking him if he could call since I had questions.
We’re going to refer to the people in this post by their astrological sign. This story begins with Leo. And go figure, this friend totally relates to the BPD Trait: Difficulty Being Alone which I wrote about in October. Because Leo is the Unattainable Interest that I spoke of in that post. So of course Drunk Carly, who is NOT to be trusted, decided to ask this person to call.
Leo is unique in that he has never been drunk in his life. I can only imagine what a mess I must have seemed to him since I was in a partially brown out state. Pieces of the conversation still exist – me asking if his significant other is real for one, which will make me cringe until the day I die – though the next morning I could not recall if I had told him “I love you” or not. For clarification, I do not love him. I care about him and really wanted to know what his dick was like but classifying my feelings towards him as any more advanced than infatuation is drunken idealization.
There was definitely crying involved. After twenty minutes, he made an excuse to hang up. Immediately embarrassed by myself, I asked Google, “Flip a coin. Heads I cut myself, tails I don’t.”
It landed on heads.
So I rummaged through the bathroom, eventually discovering my best cutting implement to be a refill razor for my mother in law’s shaving razor. Not my favorite but it would do in a pinch. I popped it out of the plastic and threw on some music. The red light of the bathroom casted an eerie shade over my work. I recorded video of me finding the razor, then cutting myself. I’ve never done this before. It’s hard to watch.
The next day, Leo and I had a brief text conversation where I said “thank you” as well as “sorry”. How many times have I had to do this the morning after? He told me the next time I got into a state like that, that I needed to call my husband. We didn’t talk for days afterwards. We’ll return to our Unattainable Leo later.
I moved my mother into her apartment, made Thanksgiving dinner for my family, had three glasses of wine over the span of five hours.
I left the rest of the bottle there. After doing a lot of soul searching, on November 30th, 2019 I decided it was time for me to commit to being sober. Sometimes drinking works out. Sometimes it really, really doesn’t. It’s just not worth it to me anymore.
Weirdly this has already been harder than I originally expected. Nothing’s better at cutting the edge off of an awkward situation or persistent boredom than a drink or two. Literally just talking about it is making me want a drink. Or a Xanax, or a Norco. Some kind of downer to numb everything and make me stop caring. Instead, I guess I’ll just stuff my face with cinnamon rolls.
Another fun thing I did that drunken night? Hit an ex with a classic “wyd”. Followed by a really… revealing tangent. Honestly, I’d share it with you but I deleted my message history the next morning. I definitely mentioned a playlist I made about them which is arguably the most embarrassing thing you can say to someone.
They answered a few days later, this past weekend. Aquarius told me that he was in rehab but he’d like to talk sometime. I missed my ex-boyfriend’s call from rehab because I was busy getting railed. This is the second time I’ve typed this sentence and it’s still just as wild as the first time I wrote it out. For all the flaws Aquarius has, being boring is never one of them. He called later and we had a quick conversation before they closed the phone room for the night. I can’t wait to ask him about the fetus he’s responsible for – that’ll be a fun exchange, I’m sure.
Rounding out the latest boy drama, I finally heard back from a different ex who I hit up online a couple weeks ago. He had posted some pretty clear “cry for help” shit and me being me, I decided to answer him. In typical Pisces fashion, his words ended up making me cry with my phone in my hand while we untangled some of the details of our sometimes sweet, sometimes traumatically fucked up relationship. I’ll actually be going into this conversation in more detail on my Patreon because wow, it is too dark to put on the internet for free, for the whole world to read. The amount of guilt I feel for what I did to this poor, sensitive spirit is… immense.
Perhaps I should have realized that Leo would never be interested in me – it would appear that the only way someone could skew their judgment enough to find my high risk, not so high reward partnership to be an acceptable deal is with drugs. Most frequent consumption by my significant others: marijuana, alcohol, cocaine, opioids of every variety, and meth. And yet the hardest drug I’ve done is still MDMA. Go figure.
Leo is straight-edge despite having some pretty textbook bipolar disorder (the most common mental health diagnosis for my romantic interests also – this is definitely not related to the fact that my father has bipolar disorder, why would you think such a thing?), and frustratingly monogamous. We live hundreds of miles away from each other and will probably never see each other in person again for the rest of our lives and yet the man was kept up all night, racked with guilt because I sent him three titty pics. Oh, the horror!
The last conversation we had was only yesterday, just after the stroke of midnight. In stereotypical passive aggressive Carly fashion, after being ignored by Leo for several days following our weird phone conversation, I posted a music video to the group chat we’re both a part of with the caption “mood”.
After being successfully baited into messaging me, the conversation went a little like this:
him: what was up with those lyrics
me: lol wat
him: um k. it just seemed like… there’s an unhealthy attachment happening…
me: i mean i did literally say the words “I’m infatuated with you” to you once
him: wait what
me: wow r u really this naive or what
him: i love my wife, i just want to be friends
me: but my tits
him: i regret that immensely. i also don’t look at porn probably. i respect women
me: don’t worry i have finally woken up to the fact that i did that thing i always do which involves me idealizing your personality to the point where i erase the boring white bread parts of you.
him: so uh are we cool?
me: yeah fam
him: tight i’m going to sleep
me: I’m going to text my ex now
If you’re wondering if I’ve learned anything from this, the answer is mostly no. I did stop drinking so I must have gained enough exp to level at least once. One, two, and… tada! Carly forgot “Untampered Alcoholism” and learned “Sobriety”! If anything, I’m really just looking for an earth sign to balance out the energy of everyone else I’ve been messaging. Preferably a woman. God, please send me a sexy Virgo. Do you think Jenna Marbles is monogamous?
I guess that’s how I’ll wrap up this post, with a little news. Nicholas and I, my one true Leo whose love I crave above all others, will be going to California next year. For how long, we have no idea. We’ll be about an hour east of Los Angeles. When I was ten or so, I lived in San Diego for a while so I’m not a complete stranger to SoCal but it’ll be cool to go back there and enjoy it as an adult.
Surely I’ll continue to cyberslut it up as I like to do but pray for me to get a cute SoCal Virgo girlfriend. I’ll bump into her while I’m rollerblading back from the local vegan joint and we’ll talk about our favorite Pokemon. She’ll ask me if I want to do a raid battle with her and after spending a fun day in the warm sun, we’ll scissor back at her place.
A girl can dream, right?