Secrets

On my nan's 80th birthday, we had a party. There were flowers, and long-distance family members and I wore a black spotty dress and a sparkly necklace. It was a lovely day but I remember the person I was messaging, the person I liked, telling me they didn't want to talk to me anymore. That they didn't want to "be" with me. 

I also had a fight with someone about drugs but that's another thing. 

I remember sitting on my bed crying, asking my mum why no-one wanted to be with me, and she said she didn't know. This was about 9 years ago now, and I still don't know. 

My family always made relationships look so easy. They were so pretty and everybody liked them. No one liked me, and even if they did they wanted to keep it a secret. This is how I'm feeling now, like someone wanted to keep me a secret. 

I don't understand why this has happened. Why this keeps happening. I have friends that skip happily from one relationship to another and yet it took 2 and a half years for me to find someone who wanted to be my boyfriend after Dan broke up with me. I know I'm hard work, I know who I am. But what I don't know is what I do to make people treat me like this. 

I've been hiding under the covers all day. I just feel sad. I've told my ex I can't be his person to talk to when he gets back and that he shouldn't have kept me a secret. I don't understand why he kept me a secret. Is there something so fundamentally wrong with me that I have to be hidden? Is it my BPD? Is it how I look? Is it my drinking or addiction? 

Borderline personality thinking is very black-and-white, it's one of the main characteristics. When I'm the one that keeps attracting these awful guys or being rejected all I can think is that it must be something wrong with me because I'm the common factor. I'm the one who keeps getting into these situations and because of that, it must be my fault. It is my fault. I am the one that people hurt. That people don't want to be around. That people keep a secret. 

I don't know why people do this. I don't understand. And if I don't understand, I can't fix it. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Sometimes

My ex-boyfriend is flying back to Darwin this week and I'd much rather he didn't. After unearthing all of his lies last week I could quite happily never see him again. I do not care for being lied to, and I'd much prefer it if he stayed in Barker with his ex/the mother of his children. Unfortunately, she doesn't want him around either and a small portion of his things are up here so I'm going to have to see him at least once more before he gets the idea. 

Seriously, he talked about us getting a place together the other day. The delusion runs strong with this one. 

Since I found out about his lies I have been talking to his ex a lot. I'll admit I harboured quite a strong hatred for the woman when he first moved there, but that was until I spoke to her and found out what had really happened. You could ask if she was lying to me and that his behaviour and actions weren't what she said. But she really has no reason to. She doesn't want him back and has had to deal with his bullshit for a lot longer than I have. As much as I would like her to take him back so I don't have to deal with him, the woman really doesn't want him either. 

I can't think why. 

One of the things we've talked about is the fact that she thinks he has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and this pissed me off a little. 

The term narcissism is being thrown around a lot at the moment, in a similar way to ADHD. Every so often there seems to be an "it" diagnosis in the mental health world and it seems to have moved on from anxiety and depression to these two. I'll admit I don't know much about narcissism, but from what I can tell it doesn't seem to be a condition that is regularly medically diagnosed. 

Unsurprisingly, my ex did not respond well to this armchair diagnosis. From what I can tell he just shut down and ignored her and, as much as I am relating to what she has told me, I can see why. 

When I was in the process of being diagnosed with my condition, I thought that finding out what was wrong with me would solve all of my problems. That I'd magically be cured by a single pill and that all of my issues would go away. As you can probably tell, this wasn't the case. 

My issue with people throwing around certain terminology is that it feels like people are doing so without a proper understanding. There are a lot of conditions I know nothing about, but as someone who spent years trying to find out what was wrong with me, self-diagnosis really doesn't sit right. 

Don't get me wrong, maybe my ex does have NPD. I'm not a doctor, I wouldn't know. But making these claims and telling people they have these conditions without medical examinations is only making excuses for what is just shitty behaviour. 

Sometimes it's not a personality disorder or a mental health issue. Some people are just dicks. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Lucky

I'm currently, and most of all ironically,y balls deep in the show adaptation of Invisible Boys by Holden Sheppard. I'll go into depth about my feelings about the show/book later, but it's got me thinking about my own sexuality. 

I'm bisexual. I will always be bisexual and, looking back, I've always been bisexual. When I was in infant school I would purposefully move myself in assembly so I could look at a girl in the year above and I once wrote a story about a girl I knew because I thought she was so amazing. I didn't quite realize or understand I was into women until I was in my early twenties, but staring at my friend Tilly while completely sober, desperately wanting to kiss her, made me realize that heterosexuality just wasn't for me. 

I didn't tell my parents or family until covid. I was living off of vodka and cocaine and, during a particularly upsetting week, glue and I sent them a message coming out to them. Before that, I told my mum when I lived in the squat, and she had the exact reaction that I thought she would. 

She decided it was now time for us to bond over my love life, that our relationship would suddenly change and we'd gossip about the guys and girls I was dating. I shut this down immediately. 

As I have previously mentioned, my mum's boyfriend is a total dick. I told him during my cocaine and glue sniffing phase and told me to "not let it define me". This man is a drugs and sexual health worker by the way. I didn't even bother to reply. I define who I am, not my taste in genitals. My aunty was lovely about it and my dad didn't even reply. He's a simple fellow, we don't talk much. 

Other than that no one has really mentioned it. Other than my brother I don't talk to my family about personal things and I'm not overly close to my dad. I talk to my mum pretty much every day but that's because we've moved past the screaming at each other phase and onto my constant need for her to pay attention to me. We catch up on what's going on back home, she tells me about my family and I purposefully avoid any conversation about her fuckwit of a life partner. 

Watching this show and thinking about films I've watched in the past, I've realized how lucky I am that my family reacted like this. I don't think it's because they don't care, but more that they're not bothered. As with most boomer families, homophobia can run rife at times. But if I ignore them and they pretty much ignore me. They never made a big deal of it, and I've never really thought about how other people may have had different experiences. 

I didn't necessarily want to be into women, no one wants to be different. But knowing I am has made my life a lot easier. For one thing, it makes me the perfect girlfriend, and for another, it prevents me from hiding who I am. Meeting me in person makes it very obvious that I'm not straight, and I know how privileged I am to not have to hide anything about myself. I know there are places in the world where my sexuality is illegal, but as long as I don't spend any time there, being bi is a pretty simple ride for me. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Reflections

I haven't written anything in a while, because things haven't been going so well. I made it 13 days without a drink and then drank for reasons I can't remember. Since then I've made it a maximum of 3 days in a row without a drink. 

Not quite the same. 

I've been making a lot of excuses. The parole review, the inevitable demise of my hideously dysfunctional relationship, problems at work and my "friend" absolutely trashing my apartment. I'm also back to feeling insecure about my writing career, but there's no escaping that one, I just have to keep writing and pushing myself to succeed. The rest of them are complete bullshit. 

The parole review actually went okay. He's staying put and not being paroled or moved to an open prison. As always, I kept this from my boss which led to me screwing up at work. I'm very open and honest about having been raped, but I'm also terrified of being fired. I have awful trust issues and know that I'm expendable at work. If I didn't turn up to my shift today I'd be replaced by tomorrow and I'm constantly worried that my hours will be cut and that I won't be able to afford to pay my bills and have to move back to England. As you can probably imagine, this isn't a good head space to be in.

The breakup was inevitable, but it still hurt. Turns out he'd been lying to both me and his ex-girlfriend. They didn't break up 9 months ago, they split on New Year's Eve. He never did tell her we were together, I was just someone he'd slept with once. I ended things the second I found out, but just because I was the one to pull the plug hasn't made it any easier. 

I want so badly to be loved. I want it more than anything. But this means I fall for people's crap over and over again. I actually defended how badly he treated me by saying he didn't hit or scream at me like my exes. According to his ex, he's pulled crap like this before, but this doesn't make me feel any better. I'm so tired of being someone's second choice, of people apologizing for hurting me and I've been hit with so many "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings" texts I could print them out and turn them into wallpaper. If he didn't want to hurt me he wouldn't have, plain and simple. 

I guess this is a sign that I need to keep my focus on my sobriety. It's actually advised that you don't enter into a relationship until you've been in recovery for at least a year. I don't know if I'm going to this rule, I don't want to cut off all chances of finding someone. But I'll need someone who doesn't lie to me or make excuses for hurting my feelings. 

Trusting someone with my feelings for the first time was hard and it's not something I'm going to be able to do again anytime soon. But as my fairy Glenn mother says, just because trusting someone didn't work out the first time, doesn't mean I won't be able to do it again. 

Preferably with someone who doesn't smoke meth. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Vulnerable

Being vulnerable is not something I like to do. It's not something I'm able to do. I'm strong, I've always been strong and I always will be strong. I was strong when my mum first got sick, I was strong when I was homeless and I was strong when I was raped. There was never any choice in the matter. We just isn't an option.

One of the significant factors in my current relationship was that I tried to be vulnerable with my boyfriend. To let my guard down. I wasn't good at doing it in person but I did my best to let him know how I was feeling and when I didn't feel good. I asked the questions I needed to ask even if I didn't necessarily want the answers. I showed a side of myself that I normally keep hidden and it was a very big learning curve for me. 

Now I'm waiting for him to return so I can break up with him I feel even more determined to not be vulnerable ever again. I feel foolish for letting him see a side of me that I like to keep hidden and I want to hide it away. To lock it away. To make sure no one ever sees me feeling this way again. To me, vulnerability is a weakness that I need to avoid at all costs and I feel like burying my feelings down even further than they were before. 

As is probably evident, I also suck at talking about my emotions. I'm English. We don't do the talking about our feelings thing and we never will. It's one of the many, many reasons I detest therapy. I don't like opening up to people at the best of times but opening up to someone who's paid to listen feels like a joke to me. To me, everyone is just pretending to care. No one is really interested in how I'm feeling and I refuse to let another person into my life that doesn't give a shit.

This relationship has made me feel foolish. I saw the red flags from the start and chose to ignore them as I've ignored every red flag in the past. He should have told the mother of his children about me the second we got together. But he didn't. He should have been there for me on the day of the hearing when I needed him so, so badly. But he wasn't. He said he wanted to be here to support me but, if he really did, he would have been there. 

I've always said that I hate getting close to people because, when they inevitably leave, the pain of them being gone is worse than the pain of being alone in the first place. I don't actually know if this is true this time around. I'll be happy when he's not there anymore, because I won't have to go back to being yet another person's second choice.

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Somehow

Fuck knows how but I managed to not self-harm on Wednesday. I got black-out drunk instead, which obviously wasn't great either, but we have to take our small victories. 

I'm not feeling great today. I've lost my focus and, as it is abundantly clear, I've been drinking again. I'm determined to go back to an AA meeting next week. I've been making a thousand reasons not to, but as the person I've been talking to to support me through my sobriety said, I'm only setting myself up for failure. 

I'm clearly in the "don't kid yourself" phase. 

The one day at a time thing is true though. I'm managing three days sober in a row at the moment but there's no way I can stay sober if I focus too far ahea. Putting pressure on myself never works and only leads to more self-destruction. 

I'm also really upset about my relationship. I know I need to break-up with my boyfriend when he gets back but having made my decision already doesn't make it any better. I'm not going to break up with him over the phone but I think, or I'm assuming, that he's in the same place mentally. Although he's finally told his ex-girlfriend about me it feels like too little too late. As I think I've said before, although I trust that they're not sleeping together, she's living in his dad's house and driving his car. They're still in some form of relationship whether he admits it or not. He told me he felt bad about our relationship because she was still pregnant and although he said he wanted to be here to support me on the day of the hearing, if he really wanted to be he would have been. I needed him and he wasn't here. He's there mowing her lawn, renovating her kitchen. I thought I was over letting myself someone's second choice, but somehow I've found myself in the same situation once again. I wanted this to work out so badly. So so badly. I trusted him with my feelings and was more honest with him than I've ever been with anyone I've dated before. But, the fact is, he kept me a secret and told me he felt bad about our relationship. And, as I've told myself over and over again, I deserve more than that. Telling myself and believing myself are two different things. But I'm hoping I'll get there one day.

I'm also over dating stoners.  

I don't want to listen to someone telling me I've done something wrong again. A friend told me the reason I talk to him is because I know he'll tell me the truth and that he's one of the only people that like me for who I am. Which was a real kick in the balls by the way. It's also not true, not the being the only person telling me the truth thing. People tell me I've fucked up and that I'm a bad person all the time. I grew up being made to feel like I'm a bad person, and I'm just not in the place right now where I can be told I've fucked up again. I also can not handle anyone telling me I told you so.

As you can probably tell, I'm a tad emotional today. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Something Stupid

Gonna be honest, there's a pack of razor blades on my bed. Not the kind you shave your legs with, but the kind that you shave your face with that is perfect for self-harming. It's been a rough couple of days and all I want to do is go to town on my arms with the same intensity as Courtney Love going hard with a heroin-filled needle. I can't because of my work uniform, but the left side of my stomach is fair game. The only scars I have on my stomach are from when I self-harmed while driving and couldn't reach anyone else, so adding to the collection isn't going to have much of an effect. 

Or affect, who knows. 

People have had odd reactions to my self-harming over the years. By far my favourite one was my mother's "Go and cut your arms, do you know what that does to my son?" but there have been some other fun ones. 

Side note, after her saying crap like that I really do wonder why people are surprised that I want to go no contact. But you know. Families.

I've also had "You don't need that teenage emo shit" which was expected. I'll admit I am a card-carrying member of the emo crew, but my love for seeing myself bleed has nothing to do with me stealing a My Chemical Romance/ Simple Plan mix CD from the guy I had a crush on in 7th grade. 

Looking back, I also fancied the pants of his sister. I even wrote a story about her. How I ever thought I wasn't a raging half-homo I'll never know. 

The reason I love self-harming is because it makes me feel better. As I've said before just seeing that beautiful trickle of blood does things to me that even cocaine couldn't do. It's better than your best orgasm, and nothing will ever come close to how much I love it. 

As one of my stranger friends once said, adrenaline is one hell of a drug. 

What really irritates me is that the only reason people have a problem with my self-harming is that it makes them uncomfortable. Someone once complained about me at a previous job and I'm still trying to work out why they would do that. Nothing quite like potentially taking away someone's livelihood because you feel a bit icky. I've also had employers tell me I couldn't show my cuts at work. I worked in a student bar, I've seen someone be fingered while buying a jaeger bomb. But god forbid someone off their tits on MDMA should see a little scratch.

Most recently someone tell me not to do anything stupid, meaning my cutting, when I got fired from the job that was going to sponsor me for my PR. I wanted to respond with "Well I find your morbid obesity stupid honey" but instead I kept quiet. I settled with telling the fatty she wasn't allowed to judge me. Because nobody, especially someone who can't see their own feet with a house smells like deep-fried cat pee, is allowed to do that. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Boundaries

I'm not good at setting boundaries. I let people treat me badly on the belief that I don't deserve to be treated well. I believe that I should take this bad behaviour, whatever it may be, because of how much I hate myself. 

I'm working on it, don't worry. 

My boyfriend was with his ex for 12 years and they broke up, roughly, nine months ago. I'm not saying that there is a time limit on moving on from one relationship to another, but I'm realising that he's still in a relationship with her. 

Not necessarily a sexual relationship, she just gave birth after all. 

She lives in his dad's house. I don't know the ins and outs of this situation but I can get behind the idea of him wanting them to have somewhere to live. This part doesn't really affect me, I don't live where she does and I have no desire to do so. Renting isn't the right choice for everyone and buying a house is expensive. If there is an empty property she can take advantage of I understand that. He is the grandfather to her children after all. 

Next, she drives his car. This I understand a little less. Once again I can understand him wanting a safe way of her transporting her children but it is his car. He talks about buying a car up in Darwin and, if he already has one, I really don't see why he doesn't use it. Yes, there is the issue of driving it here, but the amount of time and money he would spend on getting it here is nothing in comparison to what he would spend replacing his car. 

It would also make his life a hell of a lot easier and save him a lot of money on Ubers. 

Thirdly, they own land together. I was unaware of this until just before he left. He said he had to sort out the documents to the property he owned with his uncle, but then I found out he owned property with her and had to do the same. Now, there's a chance he also owns property with his uncle and coincidentally had to print, scan and email this information to him and at the same time he had to send it to her. But this is unlikely. 

And then we have the kicker. 

I messaged him the other day asking where he sleeps when he's there. Same room, different beds he told me. At the time I told myself that was okay. That I understood because it would be easier to take care of his newborn in the night if they were both in the same room. Now I'm not so sure. Unless they live in a mansion it would be easy enough for him to hear the baby cry and tend to her when he needed to, and where exactly did he sleep when they stayed with his mother immediately before the birth? 

Some people have said that's understandable, and some people have said that it's not. But I'm realising that I'm really uncomfortable with him sharing a room with his ex-girlfriend whatever the situation. Would they be doing the same when he nexts visits? What happens when the kids grow up and they don't need attention in the night? I want him to spend time with his children. I'm not a fan of the deadbeat dad trope. But it's the moving in with his ex for weeks at a time and sharing a room with her when he does so that I'm not so happy with. 

And that my friend, is a boundary. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess 

Support

Tomorrow is the parole hearing, and I am alone. 

My boyfriend is with his children, sleeping in the same room as his ex-girlfriend in the house his dad owns, that she lives in. My parents and best friend are thousands of miles away and I have no one here to support me. Asking for help and support is not something I'm good at, and even thinking that's what I want is a big deal for me. 

After the hearing, it will take two weeks for me to find out the result. From what I can work out there will be three further weeks where the decision is appealed/finalisd and if he does get released I will then be able to appeal. To put it briefly, this is going to take a while. 

I have to go to work today. I'm working a 9-hour shift and although I know it will be good for me to have the distraction all I want to do is hideaway. I'm still not feeling great, my relationship is taking its toll and there are so many things I want to say but feel unable to. I'm achy and tired and it's payday so I've been hit once again by my all-consuming fear of having money. Not to mention the side of self-hatred that comes when I think about my credit card bill, even though I'm pretty close to having it paid off. 

Luckily I have tomorrow off because if I plan to do anything more than hide under the covers I will definitely break. 

Another thing that I think will break me is if I don't hear from anyone offering their support tomorrow. I know everyone has their own lives but it's also 2025, people use their phones on the toilet. Sending a message of care takes seconds, and I don't know how I'm going to feel if I no one thinks to reach out to me. 

Well, I do. I'll feel even more alone. 

I'm trying to stay positive and to tell myself that he won't get paroled, I was his eleventh offence after all. But I'm also one of the unluckiest people in the world. My life is going to change more than I can put into words if he does get out, and there is a very strong chance of it happening. I'm not allowed to have any contact with him. I don't even know where he is. But if he does get paroled I have no idea how the rest of my life is going to pan out. Moving back to England has never been at the top of my bucket list, but given that I can't put a restraining order in place I doubt I'll even be able to visit. We have the same last name, he knows who I am. And I can see why he may harbour a little animosity towards me.

I have so much more I want to say about that night, but that's a post for another day. All I know now is that, after all these years, I really wish he would stop ruining my life now. 

And I wish my boyfriend was here to hold my hand. 

Stay safe on the road.

Jess 

Monday reset

Last week was a bit of a washout. After drinking on Tuesday, sleeping all day Wednesday and going out again on Saturday night I haven't been following my husband's 2025 "don't fuck it up" rule as much as I should. Don't get me wrong I had so much fun on Saturday night, dancing to live music makes me happier than almost anything else in the world, but I have fallen off the wagon in terms of sobriety, regular writing and productivity and it's time to get to it. 

I've also run out of clean pants. 

My boyfriend and I also had an argument during the week. With the parole hearing coming up and him having just had a baby we're both tense, and it's difficult to express those emotions when he's so far away. Plus drunk me is even more honest than sober me. 

I'm feeling a lot better this morning, and I'm more determined than ever to get back to where I was. Not going back to a second AA meeting was my first mistake, and although I can't make it to the meeting I first went to there are always other options. I could even go to a Zoom meeting if I wanted but I don't know how helpful I would find that. There's no harm in trying though. 

Second up, writing. I loved being productive and writing/publishing every day but after missing just one day I got myself out of the habit. I'm never going to get back into writing professionally if I don't stick at it, so I need to focus on my goals. 

Thirdly, give myself and my boyfriend a break. Not a Ross and Rachel "WE WERE ON A BREAK" break, although they totally were, but a break from putting pressure on us. We're both going through a lot, and neither of us could ever understand each other's situations. I've never had a baby, and he's never put a mass rapist in prison only for him to be eligible for parole. My being angry at him isn't helping anyone, and although I've discovered some boundaries I didn't expect and we have a lot to talk about when he gets back, nothing can be resolved when he's so far away. I'm anxious about calling him because he's very busy and we both have dramatically different schedules at the moment. Even if I wasn't, the conversation we need to have can't be had over the phone. 

Fourth up is finances. Although I paid a good chunk of my credit card last week, getting it under $800, I also got a bit spendy and treated myself to some new skincare. This isn't a bad thing, after all, I need to remind myself that I do deserve nice things, but when I'm not budgeting for the rest of the week and having to borrow money from my parents it's all a bit counter productive. Although I definitely get a treat this week because it's Valentines day, one of my favourite days of the year, I need to go back to basics and start using my cash envelope system again. Working hard and being promoted is one thing but it's all a bit pointless if I'm still approaching pay day with less than $5 in my account. 

And finally, chores. Like I said, I'm running out of clean pants. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess 

Saturday Scribbles

I feel like I've lost all my energy and motivation today. 

It started on Tuesday after I had my IUD fitted. I drank afterwards, which was a big mistake, and although I had fun on the day obviously Wednesday was a complete wash out. I slept, barely ate, and read in bed all day which isn't the worst way of hanging out but it still isn't productive. 

Since then I've struggled to get my motivation back. Forgetting to take my meds on Wednesday made me feel out of it for most of Thursday and I felt groggy from spending all day in bed. You could say that's a good thing, because it means my body is no longer used to bed-rotting. Although this didn't make me feel any better. Since then I've been achy, unmotivated, and had no desire to write or go to the gym. 

There's a 99.999% chance it's stress-related. Having an IUD fitted takes its toll on your body. I had an inanimate object shoved into my uterus and it's a very invasive and painful procedure. My day of nothing probably helped my body recover a little, but it's still only been a few days and my body has been through a lot. 

On top of this the parole hearing for the man that raped me is on Tuesday. It's been cancelled and rescheduled multiple times over the past 4 years, and I doubt it's going to go ahead this time, but it's very stressful for me either way. This has been hanging over me since Covid and, no matter how many times I tell myself he's not going to be paroled, it still causes me a lot of stress. I also don't feel great about the fact that I'll be alone if it does go ahead. It's a timing issue plain and simple but it's making me feel the way I did when I was in hospital. Worried, scared and upset about the fact that I'm going through this big thing without anyone here to hold my hand. 

Metaphorically and physically. 

I also feel like people are taking the piss out of me at the moment. Taking advantage. My boyfriend isn't replying to my messages and although I know he's very busy with his new baby but my head is still telling me that he's ignoring me. I feel like he's "having his cake and eating it too" by living the family life with his ex-girlfriend and children and having me waiting for him at home. I really want him to come home now, or at least book his flight so I have a vague idea of when he's coming home. This entire situation has really hurt my heart, and I want it to be over. 

My friend is already making me feel pretty used. I'm subletting my apartment to her while Jerren is away for a massively discounted price. I'm staying at his and she's been staying at mine since I went away. I feel like she's taking advantage though. When I went over last week she had rearranged my furniture, she'd been smoking inside which no one has done since the 2000s and my saucepan lid was being used as an ashtray. She even sent me a message by mistake made for her drug dealer looking for heroin. 

I had to ask her not do to skag in my home. I didn't think that's a message I would ever had to send. 

She's also been paying me my rent a week late and having a go at me when she didn't feel like I'd been empathatic enough. I know I need to tell her to leave but I'm so over people having a go at me and telling me that I'm a bad person I just want to ignore the entire situation until Jerren comes back and I have a reason to ask her to leave that doesn't involve her disrespecting me and my home so much. 

But, like I said, I have fuck all idea when that's going to be because my boyfriend isn't replying to my messages.

Oh de foof. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Childless by choice

I hate children. I find them repulsive. They're sticky, loud and they smell. Why do they cry? What have they got to complain about? They don't pay bills. They don't work. They just lay around all day whining and shitting themselves until someone comes and gives them what they want. Seriously, human babies are pathetic. Giraffes can walk within minutes of being born but human babies can't even fart. What's with that.  

As you may have guessed, I don't want children. I've never wanted children. Even when I was a kid didn't. I remember telling a friend I never wanted them and she asked what kind of monster I was. I simply told her I was the kind that didn't want kids. 

As I'm getting older people are becoming more vocal on their opinions about my lack of desire to reproduce. I had to put my foot down with my mum when she repeatedly kept telling me I might change my mind. It's been over 20 years, it's not going to happen. A customer once apologised when I told him I didn't have them. The temptation to tell him I was infertile was intense, but I kept quiet. 

Now I simply tell people I can't have kids. I had a miscarriage when I was 19 and I just say that there were complications. When I was at the pure height of my addiction I would hallucinate and I repeatedly saw the dead baby I'd lost. That was a particularly rough one but luckily it was 86-ed when I stopped sticking things up my nose. 

I will admit I've had periods where I've thought I wanted children, but this was only with certain people. I used to joke with a friend of mine that, in another universe, we're living together somewhere in a house with a white picket fence and a bunch of kids. Instead we crashed and burned and would kill each other if we ever dated. 

Dick for days though. 

I also thought I wanted kids with my ex. I honestly don't know why but when we broke up it was hard for me to accept this wasn't going to happen. I took a while to move on from this but eventually I was able to see that, once again, it was the drugs talking. When you live for nothing more than feeding an addiction it can be easy to fixate on a future that doesn't really exist. 

I even once considered telling a guy I wanted kids and then "shockingly" finding out I was infertile years down the line. That would really have been a cuntish thing to do but I really liked him. That one wasn't a go-er either.

As I've mentioned my current boyfriend, however long that term may be used for, has three kids already. If we stay together this will take a lot of pressure off of me because he already has the children he wants. There is no pressure on me to fulfill his desire to reproduce. That job vacancy has been filled no matter what I feel about the situation. I'm off the hook. 

So next time you meet someone who doesn't want children, treat them in the same way you'd tell a fuck boy not to treat a lesbian. Stop trying to convince them they'll change their mind and keep your mouth shut. No one cares about your opinion anyway. 

Besides, my pussy is perfect the way it is. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess 

Dirty Little Secret

Growing up I wasn't the biggest fan of how I looked. I had glasses, braces, bad hair and transitioned from bone-thin to obese practically overnight when my eating disorder flipped its switch. I would stare into the mirror screaming at myself asking why I was so ugly, calling myself fat and picking out faults in my appearance that weren't even there. I hated how I looked so much that I'd cover my mirror when I got home because I couldn't stand to look at myself. So I didn't have to look at myself. People would laugh and say I needed liposuction or tell me that I looked like the morbidly obese celebrity of the moment. My cousin's boyfriend nick-named me ironing board and it spread around my year group. Bullying was rampant and, combined with how my mum made me feel about my appearance, I hated the way I looked more and more each day. 

It wasn't just how I looked that presented a problem for me. I have been severely mentally ill for most of my life. I started self-harming at 13 and was never very good at hiding it. For a while, I blamed hair straighteners, my cat or moving around too much in my sleep as a reason for my cuts and bruises. I hated myself and cutting was the only thing that made me feel better. It still makes me feel good and I miss it even more than I miss cocaine. It was the only thing that helped but it ostracised me further. At the time self-harm and other mental illnesses weren't as well known about and were often seen as attention-seeking. I didn't want attention, I just wanted the pain to stop. 

I've mentioned in other posts that people were often ashamed to say that they liked me. On more than one occasion I was told that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that they'd said they were attracted to me or that we'd slept together. I was a secret that wanted to be kept because people didn't want anyone else to know. I was an embarrassment. Something to hide. The feeling this gave me still follows me around today. 

This is why I'm having such a big problem with my boyfriend not telling his ex that we're together. I trust him completely, I know he's not going to cheat on me and I know he loves me. But there's still that voice in my head and the knot in my stomach that is telling me he's hiding me. That he's ashamed or embarrassed of me, and I don't know how to shake it off. 

I want to tell him this, to explain why his not being honest about our relationship is hurting me so much, but he's not been replying to my texts. Once again, I know that this isn't personal and that it's because of how busy he is with the new baby but it's still playing on my mind. I'm working on being honest with him about how I feel but I'm still scared of texting too much. I told my ex I missed him once and he told me he felt like I was obsessed with him and that wasn't attractive. 

I really do have diabolically bad taste in men, but that's low self-esteem for you. 

Deep down I know that he's not hiding me, that he's not ashamed of me, but I really don't know why he hasn't told her. I get that emotions are high immediately after having a baby, but the child has been born now, and putting stress on his ex no longer has any affect on the child. If I'm perfectly honest I really don't give a shit about how she feels, she's irrelevant to me. But I really, really care about the fact that he hasn't told her about me. 

The entire situation is making me feel like a teenager again. Like I'm something to be ashamed of and that he's hiding me. I don't want to keep bugging him about it because, like I said, he isn't replying to my messages although I know that's not personal either. Once you are made to feel like you are something to be embarrassed by that feeling never really goes away, and I don't think it ever will. I've probably quoted this before but, as John says to Abi in Happiest Season I "deserve to be with someone who shouts their love for [me] from the rooftops!" and I do. I just don't understand why he hasn't told her we're together and it's grinding my self-esteem into dust. I don't want to be hidden, I don't deserve to be hidden and I didn't fight this hard to be hidden. 

So why do I feel like he's hiding me?

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Ass Kicking

My BPD is kicking my ass at the moment, to the point that's getting to be unbearable. 

I haven't spoken too much about my condition on this blog. Although I plan to eventually. It's not exactly something that I manage well, but I do what I can by taking my medication and I've tried so many forms of therapy that that's going to be a post of its own. 

In the past I've said that I'm going through bad patches, but they've become so frequent that that I've come to realise I just have really bad BPD. My main symption since I stopped self harming is my mood swings. And recently they have become unbearable. 

Last month I was incredibly manic. I constantly felt as if I was being electrocuted and I was so hyper that bouncing off the walls doesn't even come close to describing my mood. Sadly, what goes up must come down and now I'm sat on my desk on the verge of tears wanting to go back to bed and hide under the covers. 

It doesn't help that I can see my ex-boyfriend's apartment from my window but that's not something that's going to change anytime soon. 

My BPD puts a block in front of my brain. I can't focus and when my mood tanks I feel as if I can't do anything at all. It took me 2 hours just to get myself into the shower last night and washing my face seems like an alien concept. Sleeping sometimes helps, but when I have a list of things I want to get done during the day I don't have time for a 4 hour nap. 

Outside of sleeping going to work has become a great help. Now that I have been promoted I have a lot more to do and so I can keep my mind occupied with daily tasks. I don't work every day though, taking on a second job isn't an option. And the fact that I'm not employed as a writer means I have no deadlines to work towards. Applying for work seems futile as I'm drowning in rejections and non-responses. I have so many things I want to get done but this thing in my head feels like its taking over. I don't want to be like this, but I don't see things changing any time soon. 

I hope they do though, because I don't want to live like this anymore. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

The Vagina Diaries

This morning I had an inanimate object shoved into my vagina, and it fucking hurt. 

Well, I say my vagina, I mean my womb. I had my IUD fitted and I have mixed reviews. 

I unfortunately psyched myself up into thinking it would be awful, even though I've had one fitted before. This was when I was at university though and I've heard so many horror stories since then that it made me forget what the actual process was like. It wasn't even remotely pleasant, but it didn't kill me. 

I had my first pre-appointment in October/November time last year. That wasn't the greatest. I paid $120 for a woman to read out a form to me. I did get an STD test at the same time, but I can get them for free at Clinic 34. 

I initially wimped out when I booked the first appointment and didn't bother to reschedule. I thought I was moving to Perth. After my surgery caused me to cancel my flight and stay in Darwin for the foreseeable future I decided to rebook it. Not only because I knew if I didn't do it now I never would, but also because I spent 3 days on the pill to fend off my boyfriend's bionic sperm and turned into even more of a hormonal mess than usual. 

I was also bamboozled this time. The woman I'd booked my appointment with called me just as I was waking up from a nap and asked me to pay over the phone. Had I been fully conscious I would have changed my mind, but given that I was still practically comatose I was unable to say no. It was done, the payment was sent. I had to go. 

Unless of course, I wanted to lose $150 which I  did not. 

I booked the day off and prepared myself for the hideous event, psyching myself up by listening to Insane by Eminem which is a particularly aggressive tune. After confirming that there was no fucking way I was getting the bus, I hopped into my Uber and travelled to Family Planning. 

By the time I arrived, I was over it. I just wanted them to shove it in and get it done. I signed in, chatted to a woman waiting for her daughter and awaited my fate. 

The doctors were really nice. One of the reasons I was nervous about my previous appointment was that they told me a student doctor would be performing the procedure. Normally I'm open to anyone dealing with my medical history, but I did not want anyone who wasn't 100% qualified fannying around with my lady bits. I had to pay more than I initially planned but I definitely made the right choice. 

I walked in and chatted to the doctor who'd be sticking the thing in. Last month I received a letter from the doctor saying I was due for a smear test, so I organised to have that done as well. If there down there they might as well do everything they need to. It's why I had another STI test while I was there. 

You can never be too careful with these things, and I've had chlamydia so many times I could fill one of the stamp cards they give you at coffee shops that give you a free latte. 

I took off my undypants, laid down, spread my knees and covered my cooch with a blanket. Why they thought I'd need it covered I'll never know. This woman was wearing a headlamp and looking into my womb, she was seeing everything I've got already. 

I was very clear that I didn't want the "it's going in, take deep breath" treatment. I understand this can help some people but I didn't want to feel even more nervous than I already was. Insane by Eminem was helping once more but the only thing I heard was "slight pinching at your cervix" and that was more than enough. 

Admittedly it didn't last that long. From shoving the speculum in to taking it out it only took 7 minutes. It felt like the longest 7 minutes of my life but it really wasn't that long. Don't get me wrong it was still incredibly painful, but nowhere near as bad as I'd convinced myself it would be. Besides, I've had anal without lube. Same thing different hole. 

I felt a little bit faint afterwards so I was thankful that I'd had breakfast. They gave me a mint, I paid my fee and I booked my Uber home. 

I'm pretty uncomfortable right now. The pain in my cervix didn't last but I've got pretty bad cramps. I changed out of my pyjamas, my outfit of choice for the event, and put on my biggest pair of pants and my most comfortable outfit. I'm also wearing the biggest pad known to mankind. Sexy? No. Necessary? Yes. 

I'm trying to keep moving around to distract myself and I'm still going hard with the Eminem. I'm completely checking out from life today and giving myself cart blanche to do whatever want, even if that means inhaling a bottle of wine and falling face first into a $50 GYG order. All in all it wasn't awful, and I'd recommend it to anyone who screams like Tyra Banks during her "WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU" monologue in season 4 of America's Next Top Model every time they take the pill. 

Seriously though, get your smear done at the same time. Any opportunity to limit the amount of time you have to spend with a speculum in your vajimjam should be taken.

Stay safe on the road

Jess

If you want to get your own bits checked out in Darwin, follow the links below. 

Clinic 34

Family Planning NT

Baby mama

 

I have absolutely no idea how I feel about my boyfriend being away. I mean I don't know how I feel about most things thanks to my BPD but this is different. This is a genuine issue that I'm 90% sure everyone would struggle with. But I can't work out what my issue is. 

First of all, I miss him. I even started crying in bed the other day. I'm hoping he didn't see but subtlety and hiding my emotions have never been my strong point. I didn't want him to go, I wanted him to stay here with me. 

Learning how to be in a stable relationship is difficult. I've never been able to do it because I've never been in one as an adult. Manipulative college boyfriends, 3-year situationships, physical and mental abuse, all of these have set me up for what might be a fear of stability. I'm also terrified of being vulnerable. Talking about my emotions feels weak to me. If I tell people how I feel I have to talk about it and that's not something I want to do. I need to keep my feelings hidden away because if I tell people how I feel they will think less of me.

We'll touch on the self-hatred later. 

When he first went away I even messaged him asking if I was "allowed" to text him while he was gone, because his ex didn't know about me and I didn't want to cause trouble for him. I know he's not keeping me a secret, he's just waiting until after his daughter is born to tell her. I don't even know if I care if she knows about me or not, I care that he hasn't told her I exist because it feels like he's hiding me. 

Another emotion I struggle to work out is jealousy. Which you would think would be one of the few constant emotions I feel as someone with BPD. I'm jealous of people's careers and successes, but I feel absolutely no jealousy towards this woman. I'm shallow as hell and she's about to pop out three kids. I know I'm more attractive than her. 

I'm very happy my "why am I so ugly" phase is over. That's something I really need to write about. 

I'm also on the fence about how I would feel if they got back together. It would suck to break up with him but if he wants to get back with her be my guest. What's that line? If you can take my man, you can have him, regardless of whether or not there's history there. 

I could also be worried about the emotional aspect of them having another baby together. I've never had a baby, I will never have a baby, but even I know that it's an emotional experience. I'm not overly fond of the mental image I've conjured up of her holding her hand when she brought their child into the world. I don't know if this even happened, but the image is there all the same. 

I also spent a few moments worrying that he was going to be looking at his ex-girlfriend's vagina while she gives birth, but then I realised they don't look so good immediately after having a baby so that feeling went away pretty quickly. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Riding in cars with regret

The man who raped me is up for parole on the 12th of February and I couldn't put how I feel about this into words if you paid me. This feels like the 9 millionth time this has been scheduled and there's a good chance it will be cancelled and rescheduled again. But that doesn't mean that waiting to see if it's going to go ahead isn't a hoot and a half, 

You'd be forgiven for thinking that the man that raped me is the person I hate most in the world. It's actually the cousin who left me homeless at 19, but it's pretty close. This man took fucking everything from me, and he keeps taking from me day after day. Knowing that there's even the slightest chance he can get out makes me feel sick. What do I do if he does get out? 

My dad tells me not to worry, that he's not going to come and find me and I'm safe in Australia. I don't believe that for a second but I understand why my dad brushes it off when I try and talk about it. My mum just ignores it. I told her when the hearing was the other day and she just replied by saying she was at bible study. Apparently, her only daughter's safety is less important than reading a book about an imaginary man in the sky. I want to say I was surprised but I just wasn't. 

My boyfriend said I can talk to him about it but I just can't. Does he really think I'm going to be able to pick up the phone the morning of the 12th and talk to him about how I feel when he's with his ex? The cunt doesn't even know I exist. How exactly am I meant to talk to him about how much I'm hurting when he's with her? What's he going to tell her? That a work friend is in trouble? After all, he did tell her we were just "hanging out". 

He has until he leaves to tell her, otherwise, we are going to be having a very important conversation. 

It was my fault I was raped. I got into that car and it ruined my life. Ruined my dad's life. Affected my mum, my nan, and even my brother. Oscar was never meant to know it happened. He was never meant to find out. But when I was told about the parole hearing my mum and his asshole of a dad had to tell him in case it was released in the media and he saw it. Oscar was 12 when this happened and because of me, he didn't get the support he needed when he was growing up. I fucked everything up when I was too disgustingly fat and lazy to walk home that I got into this man's car. I did this, this is my fault. There's no way around it. 

I have no idea what's going to happen if he gets out. And he will. This is me we're talking about and luck has never been on my side. Will he try and find me? I can understand why he'd harbour a little bit of animosity towards me. Will he try and find my family? I have pre-emptively put restriction orders in place to keep him away from my mum and my dad's house but even they are pathetically small. I guess I could find out if I can put a restraining order in place, but what would be the point. People break those all the time. 

I don't know how I'm going to feel if the hearing does go ahead on the 12th. I have even less of an idea of how I'm going to feel if he's paroled. I don't really know anything right now. But I do know that it was my fault, it will always be my fault, and there's no amount of talking that's going to change that. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess

Sunday Scribbles

These past few days have been hard. I went into full self-destruct mode and got absolutely wankered on Friday night. Even ended up crying in the pub because my boyfriend wouldn't answer the phone. 

This whole thing is taking a toll on my self-esteem I can tell you. 

Anyway, yesterday I spent the morning sleeping off a hangover and eating junk food which, as you can probably imagine, didn't make me feel much better. Work managed to cheer me up as it was a chilled Saturday shift and, other than waking up to no messages from aforementioned boyfriend, I'm feeling good today. 

I never thought I'd be this person btw. It's just the wondering why he won't tell his ex that I'm his girlfriend that's playing on my mind. There's a fine line between understanding and door matt, and I feel like I'm straddling the edge. 

A very sweet Irish guy did spend a good few hours hitting on me though. Jess of a few years ago would have gone home with him but it seems I've actually developed some sense of loyalty in my old age. Who could have predicted that would happen?

I want to laugh today. I've been moping for two days straight and that's not going to fix anything. Wondering why he hasn't told her that we're together isn't going to make him tell her we're together. Checking my phone to see if he's messaged me isn't going to make him message me, and feeling bad for drinking on Friday isn't going to turn back time. He hasn't told her, he hasn't messaged me and I got drunk. I can't do anything about it so I'm moving forward. 

One of the ways I'm moving forward today is just by laughing. I'm fully aware that I'm not at all funny, but I find myself hilarious and that's all that matters. I found Ally McBeal on Disney+ when I was on the phone with my mum and remembered this gospel choir version of Short People by Randy Newman exists. I've been replaying it on a loop since I hung up the phone. 

Seriously, how could anyone not love this 

Other than short people of course

Another way that I'm moving forward today is by going to the gym. I know, not my usual style, but I actually joined a gym near my apartment earlier in the week and there's no way in hell I'm letting the ridiculous joining fee that I paid go to waste. I even signed up for a 12-month membership. That's the most committed thing I've done since I moved in with my ex. 

I'm hoping it helps as a way to distract myself when I want a drink. I'm also hoping that it improves my fitness so I don't get out of breath walking up the minuscule incline between my apartment and the city. I'd also eventually like to be able to lift the weight of a full keg of beer but that's a rather specific, and pointless, goal. My friend said that I should be proud of myself this week for joining and only drinking once and, although that one day of drinking made me feel hella guilty, she's right. I should feel proud of myself. 

Anyway, I'm off to find more things to make me laugh and drag myself up the hill for a workout. I figure as long as I make the effort to leave the house I'm likely to stay for at least 20 minutes. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess