Sailors, adoption and The Streets

Have you ever seen Matilda? The absolutely iconic movie starring and narrated by Danny Devito? If not, I highly recommend it. Anyway, there's a scene towards the end where her mum leans on her back to sign a set of adoption papers that will allow Matilda's teacher to adopt her. I'm not sure if that's really how it works, but it makes sense in the movie.

Anyway, when I was at my first retail job, my boss Jill needed to sign a slip of paper, and so did it leaning on my back. My colleague commented that it always reminded her of the scene in Matilda, and thus, I became Jill's daughter. 

It was at this job that I also met and subsequently broke up with my first boyfriend. Looking back, it wasn't the healthiest of relationships. We worked together and met when I was 17, making him 4 years older than me at 21. Although this isn't illegal, it's kinda icky looking back and caused a very significant power dynamic. But I was 17, in love and didn't know any better.

As you can probably tell, the breakup destroyed me. Being broken up with over text after a year really wasn't fun for me, and it led to a lot of tears, valium and days off from college and work. When I finally went back, my boss found me sobbing in the jewellery cupboard and uttered a phrase that I've tried to keep with me ever since.

                                            "No daughter of mine is going to cry over a man.n"

I've been thinking about this today because I haven't heard from the sailor for 3/4 days, even though he's seen my messages, and it's making me feel like shit. I'm blaming myself for messaging too much, blaming my BPD and have altogether convinced myself that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. I feel like I'm being ghosted. 

He could, of course, be busy, or he could have bad wifi. He's on a boat in the middle of the ocean after all. But if he really does have an issue with me, he should really tell me and not just ignore me. As my friend Ian once said, people who ghost others are just cowards, and no one wants a coward in their life. 

One Fever  Later 

I've been in bed with a cold for the past two days, and I finally heard from him on Saturday night during a particularly odd evening that involved me staying awake with a 21-year-old on his birthday after his friends had left him doing coke for the first time. Despite popular opinion, I'm not a complete douchebag and refuse to let people do drugs on their own for the first time, so I sat with him until he went to bed, then Ubered home a few hours later. 

The kid needs better friends. 

Anyway. 

So I finally heard from him, and he said we'd talk about a relationship when he gets back because he doesn't want one on this trip, and I didn't quite know how to respond. I was under no illusion that we were in a relationship. I initially had decided to not sleep with anyone else while he was away, but I quickly got over that because, you know, Berlin. Yes, I like this guy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to ruin my holiday by 86-ing my plans to get railed in the back room of a club while the blissful sounds of techno play in the background. It's one of the main reasons I love the place. 

It was good to hear from him, don't get me wrong, but his message, combined with my friend sending me a link to Don't Mug Yourself by The Streets, has kind of changed my perspective on the whole thing. As the song asks, "Why should she be the one who decides  whether it's off or on, or on, or off or on?" I'm not saying I'm completely disregarding the whole situation, but the song's right. It's my decision as much as it is, and so I'm kind of done feeling sad. I'm not going to cry over him anymore.

Was it some kind of amazing connection? Or was he just nice to me. The boarderline's lullaby.

Stay safe on the road and don't cry over men. 

J

Armie Hammer, cannibalism and kink shaming

This one has been rolling around in my head for a while now, but I've just never gotten started. It's coming out today because I haven't heard from the sailor in days, and my back is still really painful, so I've been watching the Armie Hammer GQ interview to cheer myself up. 

In 2021, allegations of sexual assault and cannibalism circulated about the actor, which led to him being dropped by his agency and cut from several films and theatre appearances. Roles in films he had already filmed were either significantly cut or re-shot, his wife divorced him, and he moved to the Cayman Islands, where he was reportedly selling time shares to make a living. He was also the subject of a three-part docuseries from Discovery+ entitled "House of Hammer". 

My own sexual proclivities and love of cutting aside, it's difficult to understand why Hammer's career was so badly damaged by these kink allegations when other celebrities have been public about their sexual or romantic interest in blood. Angelina Jolie and ex-husband Billy Bob Thornton famously wore vials of each other's blood during their marriage, stating that it brought them closer as a couple, and musician Machine Gun Kelly and ex-fiance Megan Fox were known to drink each other's blood. Although it was said that this was for "ritualistic purposes" rather than sexual gratification. Why did these instances not end their careers, but not Hammer's?

There were also several allegations of sexual assault against Hammer that clearly have a connection to the discussion around his character. Allegations for which he was found not guilty by means of reasonable doubt. Putting these aside, what I don't understand is why certain kinks are tolerated by society and not others. Quentin Tarantino is well known to have a foot fetish, and many celebrities have been candid about their interest in role-play and BDSM. Mozart apparently loved rimming, if we are to believe the article I just read, the opening paragraph of the article I just read. Although as much as I enjoy it too, I was significantly happier before I knew this piece of information. Also, like, how did people know?

Mozart's love of analingus aside, when it comes to fantasies that we do not act upon, where is the line between the acceptable and the unacceptable? Why was Hammer's career effectively ended when it was suggested that he had cannibalistic fantasies, but others weren't? Why are some kinks okay and some aren't?

One of the reasons could be that people assume cannibalism is universally illegal, but it actually isn't. Focusing on the US because these are where the allegations were made, the only state my admittedly limited research found with laws against the act is in Idaho. The majority of states don't have any explicit laws. In comparison, 49 states have laws explicitly prohibiting sex with animals. The same number of states that have laws prohibiting bestiality don't have explicit laws against cannibalism. 

Just in case you were wondering, you can't eat people in Idaho, but you can have sex with animals in West Virginia. 

Fantasies aside, Hammer was never found to have actually eaten anyone. In an episode of Tyler Ramsey's Painful Lessons podcast, Hammer disregarded the accusations, saying;

"People called me a cannibal and everyone believed them,” Hammer said. “Now I’m able to sort of look at it with a sense of distance and perspective and be like, ‘That’s hilarious’. They were like, ‘Yep, that guy ate people.’ Like, what? What are you talking about? You know what you have to do to be a cannibal? You have to eat people! … It was bizarre.”

To me, it seems that the public's reaction to the allegations against Hammer is a clear example of kink shaming. Everyone has their own sexual interests, and many people act on them, but many people also don't act on them. Providing people don't force these fantasies on people without their consent, are they really hurting anyone?

Stay safe on the road

J

Trust

The good Lord has blessed me with many things. A great voice, an ass carved by angels and the ability to pick things up with my toes. Sadly, he also blessed me with trust issues that run so deep the guy from 127 Hours would feel uncomfortable spelunking in them. 

It's mostly because of my condition and subsequent agonizing fear of abandonment, but there are other situations where I find it hard to trust people, too. Employment is one of them. My old boss had complete control over whether or not I could pay my rent, and I didn't trust her not to punish me by cutting my hours. Partly because I've known it to happen with other jobs, and partly because she'd done it to me before. 

The current trust issue that is dancing around in my beautiful borderline brain is learning to trust the person I like. Not as in trusting his character, we're not actually a couple and even if he was going to fool around with anyone else, he's straight and currently living on a boat with 5 other men, so I don't think anything's going to come of that. 

Allllthough a girl might dream.

The thing I'm struggling with is trusting that he won't "go off" me, change his mind and not want to see me when he gets back or be scared off by my condition. I have absolutely no control over any of these things, but my compulsive over-texting isn't helping. It's so petty, but being left on read makes me feel like shit and the person who developed the "read" feature across social media should be cursed with an uncontrollable bout of the poops whilst stuck on the underground during rush hour. I hate feeling this way. It's childish, it's pointless, and it drives me fucking mad. 

The guy is also on a boat. I'm not overly sure how good the wifi is.

Learning to trust him is a big deal for me. Not because I think he might hit me the way River did, scream at me the way Dan did or use me to cheat on his pregnant girlfriend the way Jerren did. Although if I went two for two on consecutive relationships with that one, I'd be impressed.  

To be fair, he was roughly the fourth person to cheat on their pregnant partner with me. I think once you get passed two, that says more about me than anything else. But I digress. 

Trusting that someone not only likes me but will continue to have feelings for me despite my condition is a whole new thing for me. I really like this guy, and I'm so scared of his feelings for me changing. Of him not liking me anymore. But is that because of my own insecurity? Or because my own feelings change so quickly that I assume other people's will too. 

This is why I write, second to dancing to techno, it's the only sure-fire way of anything in my head ever making sense. 

The techno comes in October. 

Stay safe on the road

J

Borderline eyes and puddle ducks

When I meet someone, such as my sailor, I automatically assume that my BPD is going to scare them off. I'll either do something wrong, say something wrong, or they'll just decide they don't want to be with someone with my condition. Naturally, I assumed that he'd think the same, but the more I've gotten to know him, the more I realize that this isn't going to happen. 

When I first started dating post-diagnosis, I told people not to research my condition. This was ten years ago, and information about BPD was even more scarce than it is. Now, there are at least some educational videos about what living with my condition was like, back then, it was just articles about how to "recover" from being with someone with BPD. It sucked reading these, and it was easier for me just to tell people not to than have them assume that I was the big monster the internet was telling them I was. 

Once I realized that my sailor wasn't going to abandon me just because I'm sick, I said something to myself that I've never said before. I'm used to people telling me that if someone is the right person, they will understand, but my thought process has now changed. If they're the right person, they won't just understand, they will make the effort to learn. 

Now, I'm not saying he has to scour the internet to find resources that explain that I'm not going to leave his life in shambles and that he'll need therapy to recover from being with me. For one thing he's currently on a boat with limited wifi, and for another, it's difficult to know what to look for. If I don't know what's going to be helpful and I'm the one living with this piece of shit disease, how is someone who's never encountered it meant to do?

I've never found a useful video until now, and strangely, it involves ducks. The channel is called Diplomaduck, and the video is called BPD Explained by Ducks. It's actually a perfect description of my condition and the channel covers everything from BPD and Capitalism to ADHD and the American history. It's incredibly varied, and I've only really watched one of the video,s but it's really helped. Yes, I would like it if it covered more of the mental health conditions that the good lord blessed me with, but with PTSD, BPD, and Anxiety covered, I've got a lot to work with. Self-harm and EDNOS descriptions can wait. 

I've watched this video an obnoxious amount of times and sent it to pretty much everyone I know, including my sailor. 

Another thing I've tried to teach him about is BPD eyes. I found an article on the Grouport Therapy website and it was actually pretty helpful. Also referred to as the BPD stare, not everyone who lives with the condition gets these, but I do. I zone out, my eyes are empty, and although you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours...I simply am not there.  

I sent him an article about this partly because it will explain why I sometimes look like I've been neutralized by Will Smith, and partly because I found an article about it. I'm not going to bombard him with every piece of information I find. That would be overwhelming even for me, and not everything is helpful. But if I can help someone I care about learn a little bit more about me without worrying that I'll scare them away, that's good enough for me.

Stay safe on the road, my beautiful borderlines. 

J

Dos and Don'ts

Last night I heard my neighbour railing two twinks, separately, within the space of 90 minutes. How do I know he railed two twinks? Because one turned up, opened the door, and uttered the phrase, "I'm your honey baby." The other, I just assumed was a twink because of the sound he made when he came, but I could be wrong. 

Hookup culture is iconic. 

This got me thinking about the things I do and don't know about this man. I know he's into dick, I know he's a top, and I know he likes twinks. What I don't know is his name. 

This then spiralled me into thinking about dos and don'ts in general. What things need to, or don't need to happen in my life for me to be happy.

Yes, a very tenuous link, but that's how my brain works, so let's just run with it. 

So without further ado, here is my list of things I do and don't need. 

Do

I need to stop self-harming. As much as it's my favourite thing to do, there's no denying that it is really, really bad for me. I started when I was 1,3 and ever since it's been a way of dealing with my feelings. Fight with mum? Cut. Bad day at work? Cut. Rejection or feeling like a failure? Cut. It's been doing it for over 20  years now. It's definitely going to be difficult to find another way of feeling better, but I need I to find a way of dealing with my feelings without causing bruising, bleeding or burns.

Don't

A couple of months ago, my doctor and I put together a mental health plan. I was all for this until I received their reply. First of all was the cost, I simply do not have that kind of coin, and second of all, I know what my issues are. Self-harming aside, I do not need to spend $175 an hour to be told my issues are with my mother. I'd much rather use my own methods of dealing with her shit, such as working out, than spending half my rent on being told something I already know.

Do

I need to have a job. I've recently found employment after quitting my last place, and the difference in how I feel about myself is immediately noticeable. It's not just about the money, although that is a big part of it. The most important thing is that I have a specific purpose and reason to leave the house. It's easy to fester when you're unemployed, and all this does is make me internalize the negativity I already feel about myself. When I'm working, I feel confident and worthy, and finding work is a straightforward way of addressing and nurturing my self-esteem. 

Don't

When I went out for my friend's birthday on Saturday, our friend Eve was there. Eve is lovely, beautiful and on her way to becoming a lawyer. She's also ten years younger than me. When a mutual friend asked her how old she was, she assumed she was older because she had a "grown-up job", and I used to think that's what I needed as well.

For years, I thought that I needed an office job in order to be successful. That I needed to work 9-5, 40 hours a week, to feel confident. Now I realize this simply isn't true. For Eve, working as a lawyer is amazing and a great achievement, but it's just not what I want. It's going to take a while to get out of the more hours at work=more success mindset, but as long as I'm paying my bills and enjoying my life, I don't care what I do. 

Stay safe on the road 

J 

Ghandi verses Regina George

I'm going to be perfectly honest, there are some parts of me that are so aggressively borderline that it almost brings me joy. Most of the time, I do try and be a good person, but if I decide I don't like you, I will hurt you. 

Not physically, of course, I have the upper body strength of a paraplegic flea. No, I like to hurt people in other ways. 

At my last job, I worked with some of the worst managers I've ever had. Actually, probably the worst. I've had bad managers before, but at least they, much like myself, were upfront about the fact that they were complete dicks. A particularly awful one shouted at me, insulted me, told me I was lying to get bigger tips, and I'm pretty sure she threatened me at some point. If anything, her actions made me the worker I am today. If I can put up with an ancient ginger chewing me out, I can put up with a customer threatening me. 

I didn't see this at the time, though; I was only 21. My skin wasn't quite thick enough yet. 

The manager in question believed lies about me, watched me on CCTV from home, which is illegal by the way, and kept notes on her phone about me, which is just creepy. Like, why are you so obsessed with me?

Obviously, I've recently left my job, and so I wanted to hurt them the way they hurt me. Her actions caused me to have panic attacks and self-harm again, and your bitch ain't Gandhi. An eye for an eye, my friend, the rest of the world won't go blind. 

Ghandi also used to sleep naked next to virgins to prove his commitment to abstinence, so I don't think we should be looking to him for advice anyway. 

It's very, very rare that I have the moral high ground, mostly because I'm a terrible person. Fat people are the bane of my existence and actually make me sick at times. Put down the pie fatty, or hurry up and eat yourself to death. Straight people also annoy me, and anyone who believes they're any kind of witch. 

I hallucinate, and I get a police escort to a psychiatric hospital. You do it and think you're working on your third eye. 

News flash, you ain't got one. But I digress. 

Anyway, one of the things I don't quite understand is racism. I hate everyone that I hate equally, and I have no interest in the colour of your skin. If you smell, are rude to me, or if you just piss me off in general then yes, I will hate you, but that's got nothing to do with your race. Some people are just butt munches. '

People at my last place of work were incredibly racist. Using the words koon, abo or black cunt. Refusing indigenous people glasses of water, or not letting them use the bathroom, and banning indigenous people from smoking in areas that white people do. 

Segregation was outlawed in Australia in 1975, just for reference. 

Obviously, because I wanted to hurt my former managers, I reported them to the owners of the company and let them know. I'm not a complete cunt. I'll give you a heads up when I've caused you pain. Thing is, I've since been told I'm "not welcome" at my previous place of work, and that just rubbed me up the wrong way. 

I have at least 3 friends left there, what if I want to say a quick hello or pop in for a bottle of Pinot Gris?

These things aside, I don't like it when people I don't like keep my name in their mouths. It's unnecessary, like doodle my name on your binder and be done with it. And so I may have to make another quick call to the owners of the company, just to let them know the manager has been stealing money from the pokie floats to loan to his friend. 

I did say I was a bad person 

Stay safe on the road

J

Ribbons, rage and unemployment

I quit my job last month. Necessary, inevitable and if I'm honest, I was probably on my way to being fired anyway. All these things are besides the point, because right now I'm drowning. 

To me, there are few bigger failures than being unemployed. A pickle because being unable to hold down a job is a common trait of people with BPD. I quit my job because it was stressing me out so much that I started self-harming and having panic attacks. Ironically, the feeling of failure associated with being unemployed, having no money and having to ask my parents to help me out is also making me have panic attacks and self-harm. 

Not as much, but it's still happening. 

Right now, I want to slice my arms to ribbons. I need to feel something, I need to see blood. But I can't. I want to self-destruct so badly. I want to drink, I want to scream. I want to work. I hate myself so much for not having an income, and I feel pathetic and like people are looking down on me. I only have 4 more weeks until my trip, but I swear to god if one more person asks how my job hunt is going, they're getting a used tampon in the post. 

And then there's the trouble of having to be able to pay for my visa and for my rent when I get back. I had to get out of that job, but I also have to have an income. 

My beautiful sailor told me to call him when I wanted to self-harm, but I can't do that right now. Partly because he's working and partly because it's so difficult to get people to understand. My self-harming isn't hurting anyone; it's not affecting anyone else. Especially now that I'm not working. So why can't I spend my afternoon watching my arms bleed? Why can't I do this when I want it so badly?

I mean, aside from the fact that I don't have any blades other than the ones I'd have to break out of the razors I use to shave my legs, and heating up a knife and burning myself didn't have the same effect. 

For the most part, feeling pain calms me down. Cutting, burning, biting the backs of my hands, all these things bring me peace when I'm feeling stressed. I don't quite remember why I self-harmed for the first time, but I can remember a few of the reasons since then. Feeling fat, wanting to punish myself and when I'd had a fight with my mum and didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling. 

My boyfriend didn't want to look at me after I did that one. It was a fun night. 

BPD represents an inability to control emotions, and self-harming is one of the ways I attempt to control mine. I take medication, have tried countless types of therapy and try to do the obvious like exercising, distracting myself or going for a walk. Thing is, no matter how hard I try, nothing quite feels as good as cutting. 

Writing this has helped me calm down a little. I'm still angry. I still want to cut, and obviously I'm still unemployed, but putting words to a screen has definitely taken the edge off. Yes, I could now fall down the rabbit hole of feeling like my writing is pointless because no one reads it, but hopefully I can save that one for another day. 

Stay safe on the road

Jess