The Good Fight
"Don't be afraidWhat your mind conceives
You should make a stand
Stand up for what you believe
We can truly say
Together we're invincible"
Yes, they are Muse lyrics. Muse lyrics I just happened to hear immediately after being given what felt to me, in my currently precarious mental state, like an utterly decimating piece of news. I listened. I wondered why the fuck I couldn't just be like everyone else, and go along with a comfortable salary and not a lot of responsibility - A.K.A. the easy life. But I knew that nothing but the outcome I'd pinned all of my hopes on and worked my arse off for, would do. It wouldn't matter that I know I'm damned lucky to have a job I enjoy, working with people who are real friends as well as colleagues. I'd missed out on a key role whilst on maternity leave, and now, here I am, ten years behind my peers, with what I perceive as capability befitting of someone much more important and experience proving I've got guts many can only wish for, and yet I'm working to the detriment of my family and my mental health to wallow at the bottom. I'm a bottom feeder. I feel untrusted, unrecognised, underrated, underachieving; WOUNDED. AND COMPLETELY UNREPENTANT. Hell, I would've stood up to the CEO without fear to fight my corner at that moment.
Doing what you believe in doesn't win you many fans. Or at least not fans who have the power to reward you for stupidly risking everything that is stable in your life. I'm not even sure I know what the reward means any more.
It can be hard to separate the BPD from the responses that normal, rational people have under the same circumstances, granted, but it becomes bitterly obvious once it starts kicking off that it makes me into a bull in a china shop. I frequently find myself a passive bystander whilst the wrong words are rolling off my tongue, doing irreparable damage to otherwise good relationships. As I float off to watch the scene unfold from the outside, in a somewhat similar fashion to how I imagine a near death experience to be - only without the awesome tunnel bit - the other me lays waste to my hard work and makes me appear to be what others have described as 'a loose cannon'. In combination with my inability to be disheartened for more than 24 hours at a time, I imagine this presents a strange image to the outside world. Despite my ardent atheism, I somehow believe that doing the right thing should result in the right things happening. I do things that make a difference to people, because I can't do anything else.
Now of course I hate the term 'unstable' and I see that and 'loose cannon' as interchangeable terms. Both apply as little to one's mental state as 'GSoH' does on a dating website. We're all capable of thinking randomly at any given time, and therefore a stable mental state is a misnomer. This is my opinion of course and yours may be different. Therein lies the beauty of the breadth of experience all humans have during their lives, no matter who they are. Our ability to constantly change our thoughts and feel such a range of emotions is what makes us human in the first place (that or taxes). Suffice it to say that this pair along with my good friend 'impulsive' are as yet the only terms I've found that are appropriate. It seems odd, but I know quite a few people with a lot less impulse control than I have and whaddaya know? They're also my superiors.
I find it almost impossible to explain myself to those who are on the receiving end of this, and I'm painfully aware of my inability to give any adequate reason for the huge importance I place on things that seem absurd to everyone else. Why is it important to me to get a label that means nothing to anyone outside of this little bubble? I wish I knew. The best I can do is this: a higher ranking label lends weight to what I say. It gives me the air of someone with a clue. My creative vision suddenly becomes something that others have to go along with. Something they automatically trust in.
I can assure you that although thus far, this post has painted a picture of someone with an ego the size of a planet, I am not (consciously) self-important. In fact I'm more the reverse. And no, none of this makes sense - welcome to the dark side. When things are weird, they're really very weird. You'll have to excuse me. I'm having a rather difficult time at the moment. BPD is a strange beast. This was probably a rant. I do apologise. Please join me again when I manage to regain some sense of sense.