What did I do? How could you do this to me?
If he had done this, if she hadn’t said that, if they’d only listened, if I wasn’t misunderstood… this never would have happened.
-Blaming- Blaming is the practice of identifying a person or people responsible for creating a problem, rather than identifying ways of dealing with the problem.
I didn’t just make this up, there IS a reason I feel this way. For someone with Borderline Personsality Disorder feelings are always caused by external events. Thay have no control over their emotions or the things they do in reaction to them.
“Those with Borderline Personality Disorder tend to blame others for their problems and how they feel. Borderlines as a means of protecting themselves from the unrecognized and/or unconscious pain of the core wound of abandonment project their thoughts and feelings onto others. This makes everything seem to the borderline as if what is coming from or being done by him or her is actually coming from or being said or done by the loved one – the non-borderline.”
This is something I hate to admit to. I do take responsibility for my own actions. I acknowledge my faults, my involvement outwardly. I really do try to understand where someone else is coming from and that they have needs to. Sometimes I even succeed.
Somewhere, somehow, in the back of my mind that insidious voice taunts me. Plants those seeds of doubt and deception about everyone in my world. They don’t really care, if they did they wouldn’t have done this to you. They would know what you need and not withhold it from you, wouldn’t have allowed you to do what you did, dangled something you wanted so bad in from of your half shut eyes, within reach of just running your fingers over your salvation to happiness. It’s their fault for allowing it to happen. They should have known better. Known how it would affect me. Yet, they did it anyways.
I know, it’s not a one way street. All actions are only capable of entering into my lonely little world by my choice to open that door. Some part of it is mine. Some part of me knows that he was the one that did this to me. I let her in, but what she did is the thing that set me off. I can’t see that the way I react, the way I understand what has happened, isn’t what it seems to someone else.
I want what I want so badly I blind myself to what is capable of being given. I don’t understand that no one can give me that perfect gift I’ve built up in my mind. Some small thing, some big thing, some lack of that thing, any variation, brings my wish to ruins… and if they really understood me they would have known what to do. This is not my fault. It’s yours.
I know I bring these things on myself. I know my hopes are so high that no one can reach that mountain peak. The more someone tries, the further my heart is pushed. Setting myself up for a sharp fall. Pushed from reaching the pinnacle that promises happiness. Pushed by you. Not my own feet that slipped from underneath me.
I want you to be perfect. I want you to be perfect for me. It’s your fault when you’re not. It can’t be that I see some myth of human capability beyond the manifestation of anyone short of a superhero. A machine programmed to cater to every machination my mind moves me to.
|It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault though. Of course everyone messes up. People are people afterall. Sometimes things are your fault. But things are my fault too. I do know this, I promise I do. That hurt is not reasonable. In the moment all that exists is the need for something we don’t have. As time elapses and you don’t realize what you’ve done, in those moments we sit and stew and our thoughts swirl and collide until it’s become something so grand in its offense that we’re convinced you did this to us on purpose. You knew what you were doing and you did it anyways. Of course you probably didn’t.
I’m repeating these thoughts, because that’s what we do. Repeat these thoughts until they’ve been so blown out of proportion that we can’t see our own involvement. What we need to do… is talk. I’m ashamed of these things. Ashamed that I want so much from someone that I can’t provide for myself. That I’ve allowed someone to affect me so. And because I do recognize that these things aren’t rational, or I’m terrified that you’ll be even more mad at me because clearly you didn’t understand me enough to care, that you won’t want to listen. So I hold it in, until it takes over, shaking the fizz and pop, burst from the bottle in a fit of frustration.
Fear. Irrational fear that you want to hurt me. That you’ll leave me. That you’re showing that you want to abandon me. This is my fear; that I can’t help but see in you. Project onto you.
Then in complete contradiction to these feelings, we blame ourselves too. We know that if we were better, if we could be more, than you wouldn’t have said what you said or done what you did. It’s our fault for not being what you need. If only we were perfect… If we can’t be good enough for you, why would you stay. What’s to keep you from leaving?
Talk. Please encourage us to talk. It’s so hard to believe we won’t make you madder. It’s essential to diffuse the situation before we’ve had a chance to let the lightning strike and bring the monster to life.
I try to write things down. I know I need to let you know. I can’t bring myself to say what hurts me until I’m so worked up that I can no longer contain it.
For as much as I know that these actions set against me are mostly in my mind, it FEELS like the world is out to get me and there’s no one that cares enough to protect me from the storm. Even though I resent anyone that tries to take care of me.
“People with Borderline Personality Disorder blame others because they do not know who they themselves are because they lack a stable sense of self or any authentic connection to the lost authentic self that leaves each person with BPD in an often desperate search for his or her identity. People with BPD lose the authentic self to the arrested emotional development caused by abandonment. They live and relate to others through a defensive borderline false self that is at the heart of so much of the turmoil in what develops as a blame game.”