Rejection. It’s not easy for the best of us. Least of all for a reason that we thought we’d taken care of way back when. But for me, suffering with Borderline Personality Disorder, it’s a whole different level of hard.
Tomorrow I should have been on a date. We organised it several days ago, we’d talked for a few weeks in the run up, got to know each other a little through email, and this was the final stage really, the meeting, to see if there was chemistry. But this afternoon I received an email cancelling the date, he is taking up with his ex girlfriend again, the one I’d actually questioned him over previously because he’d mentioned her a lot. He said no, she lived abroad and it was over.
So first there was anger. Pure, seething rageful anger. And with it of course, came the sadness of rejection.
Then came the paranoia; my ex has created this person just to hurt me more. To push me past repair. To finish what he started: my death.
More rage. Confusion.
And then all of it mixed up; tears, but rage, while figuring out why anyone would want to hurt another person so badly.
It all whirls inside me, not helped by zero hours of sleep the night before, worrying whether I would be able to trust him if it did come to something, after my trust was so badly broken in my last relationship. Irony.
So here I am again. ‘Dating.’ Only not, because of two possible men this week; one only wanted sex and the other was a liar. And I don’t know what to do. I want to say that’s it, it’s over, I quit. I want to yell “screw you,” to everyone out there that’s planning to hurt me. But I can’t, because all I want is love, and to love back. All I have to give is love, but that’s obviously not enough.
I not only feel rejected, I feel worthless. I feel like I am not even the shit on your shoe. I am unlovable, not good enough for anyone, not deserving. After all, I’m just a screwed up girl, the wrong end of her 20s, with enough baggage to sink a ship. What would anyone want with me?
Even I don’t want to be with me.