Is extreme fashionable? really?

Ever since I was 12 I noticed I tended to like things on the extreme side of things, like dressing punk, then goth, wanting tattoos, acting out in class (when I wasn't as quiet as a mouse), generally feeling alienated and like a rebel. And ever since, I've noticed pop culture glorifying it all and becoming more and more extreme itself. I guess it started a while ago in Hollywood but where's it all headed? We get so caught up in the rebel ideal in our naive teens and then as a young adult... Doesn't it make it harder to mature and take on more responsibility? Well, I guess most people turn out fine either way but what about us vulnerable ones? I wasn't extreme just to be cool, it was more the suffering from BPD developing but I wonder now for the ones who did. I'm sure they've all had to pay for their anti-social behaviour while trying to be accepted and some probably fell into addiction that way, or pick up bad life-long habits like smoking or unwanted tattoos etc... All to be cool for a while. Though I guess in a way it's a phase that's necessary to form your own identity but I think I'm a bit stuck in it. Try as hard as I might, I just can't seem to see myself as anything coherent or consistent. My pastor likes to remind me that Christ gives me my identity since I'm Christian and I do believe this, but I can't see or feel or experience it much. The only explanation is my BPD is impeding me. Otherwise, nothing is stopping me from fully living a Christ-filled life since I already believe and understand the concept of being a child of God, being loved as God loved His only Son.
Meanwhile it grates on my nerves, this rebel pop culture, when I see it around me. Like my good girl friends having bad-ass boyfriends (but with jerk tendencies since they've almost all got big issues). Very few are just nice guys. One can't stop drinking if he's at a bar or club where he feels it's a competition of who can drink the most and then breaks up with my friend twice and doesn't remember it, another is verbally abusive and probably has BPD himself, another loves to put everyone down around him since he's so insecure, one has a problem with the drink too and used to be a skinhead etc... And of course there's my last ex, who's a criminally insane addict (no exaggerating, we met in the psych ward and he transfered from a jail for the mentally ill) who has recently relapsed and is back to stealing and dealing. Is it just guys have more issues generally than women? Or that women are influenced by the rebel pop culture and want a badass for themselves? Or both? Or, humans are just all conflicted individuals? My friend with the over-competitive macaq of a boyfriend told me recently that out of our mutual college friends, I'm the coolest and I would be the least embarrasing to introduce to her other friends. That's nice and all but I think she's seeing through the pop culture lens that I am like the rebel, breaking rules seemingly out of cool self-posession. But really I'm in panicked desperation most of the time, too stressed to always pay attention to rules. There isn't really much that's cool about me underneath. I'm addicted, not in school or work and struggling with myself everyday. How is that cool or good in any way? And so as all Hollywood concepts do, the 'cool' me goes up in smoke in front of the complex truth. And no my naive 12 year old self, it's not cool to be self-involved and careless, alienated and full of angst. And so it shouldn't be cool to look it either. Of course, this does not mean I should or will give up my affinity for dark fashion styles any time soon.

like a deal with the devil

So I might not be the first to notice but doing psychoactive drugs on a regular basis is like making a deal with the devil. I don't even see at first how desperate a move it is, to basically say "I'll pay anything to feel better, for any bit of relief from myself." And how easy it is when you only have to pay more later. At first it looks like you only pay with your money but then you have to pay more later with your health, sanity and spiritual life. Then it claws back the benefits it used to give you so that you're forced to use only to function and eventually it can take everything, running you into the grave. And I can see all of this now happening in my life. I used to think that eventually the weed just doesn't seem to work as well without a break but actually it's because its negative side effects are getting worse as I continue to abuse it. So I'm getting more paranoid and more and more anxiety which cut through the comfortable haze of the high I get and it's getting heavier to endure. Every time I talk with someone I'm not sure if they're judging me, condemning me with every word that comes out of their mouths or not. I'm constantly on the lookout for invalidating statements that prove to me the speaker doesn't care or believe I suffer. It makes me more stressed and likely to yell and get upset. Also feeling scared of being watched by people on the street, like they can see my misery and problems. I really have to stop soon before I go off the deep end. No wonder my ex would take 2 week breaks from all drugs every once in a while and then go right back to stealing beer and smoking up and then break again. And you know, that's probably why I would feel better after being in a hospital for a week or 2 even though I would have awful episodes in the ER. Couldn't get drugs there, except for the time I got my friend who recently passed away to smuggle in a joint that I smoked in a bathroom in the psych ward and nearly got caught. I could never figure it out until now. I can't believe how much worse I made my situation by self-medicating. All that time I thought my cycling through being ok to being in the ER was only due to my BPD but my addiction was interfering and making things worse than they had to be.

grandparents

My grandma (from my dad's side) called me recently. She's so sweet and sounds lonely and always says so sadly how much she and grandpa miss me and my family and how she wishes she could come visit but she's too frail. We'll come visit in the summer. And I always say "miss you too" but to be honest, I don't think I do. Which then makes me feel guilty. It looks like I'm one of two ways, either I'm so self-centred that I don't even care about those not immediately having to do with me which is awful or I'm so sensitive to emotional pain that I'd rather cut people out of my mind if I can't see them regularly because I miss them too much. I think this might be an example of my black-or-white thinking, an annoying symptom of BPD. But that's really how I look like to me. Anyhow, all of this adds up to feeling woozy and weird every time extended family call me and say they miss me. I feel bad for not returning the feeling and yet I know there's fear behind the tunnel vision I enforce on myself. Makes me feel like I want to be left alone but of course I don't like being lonely...

the thrill

As I sat down to write this I started tripping pretty hard. Seeing my point of view distort alot and my imagination became alot more powerful too. Pretty patterns and colours from nowhere. Now I feel light as a feather and my head feels more separate than usual from my body. Everything's still undulating a little and tilting like I'm out at sea. My psychologist was so right yet again. The thrill is like an adrenaline rush from the danger or lack of control, like someone who enjoys bungee-jumping. Geez, how obvious do my self-destructive ways have to be? I guess it's also like amusement park rides. It's fun to be thrown around a little and get a bit scared because there's no control as a rider. I guess a part of me doesn't want to care anymore, I am getting tired. Because you can't ride over and over again, 24/7 without paying a price. I move through this vicious cycle pretty fast darn it.

sugary potatoes

I think it might be the combination of the Risperdal with the joints but I've been getting clumsy these days. I still cook quite well, especially since my brother and dad say so. But I think I've gotten messier. I got red pepper powder everywhere at one point and then got way too much brown sugar in the korean style potatoes. I had to add more of everything else but it was still very sweet. It's also hard to be sure of how much I should put in but I just have to force myself not to second guess myself and it always turns out ok. I'm also definitely getting a zombie effect from the Risperdal prescribed to help me. And I hate that. Makes me blank out more, makes me feel more slow and less enthusiastic about things. It's kind of depressing but I guess I'm supposed to give it more of a chance for now.

applause?!

I was forced to explain to my bro that it's hard for me to really feel any passion or pull from the Lord. It's hard to hear His voice when your stoned all the time and it's one of the worst side-effects of smoking up all the time. Although occasionally it makes it easier to talk to God because it makes spiritual things more real but only sometimes. It also mixes in my own distorted thinking and perceptions and paranoia which makes reality confusing too. Anyways, these are some of the reasons why I want to stop. Why else am I going to put myself in a wretched, locked psychiatric ward again (sometime in May)? At this statement he applauded me. This put me in further distress, why are you applauding me? What did you think I was up to this whole time? And my eyes started to tear up. He probably thought I just didn't give a crap and was just having fun at everyone's expense. These are the stupid little things that bother me.

12 hours

I did the stupidest and smartest thing the other day. I actually forgot my joints on the front porch and went out all day quite far away. It took me 2 hours to realize they weren't on me and panicked. I considered canceling everything and just going home but I decided to stick it out and see how long I could go. I went to the creative arts small group and chatted, ate, made cookies, played with the baby and then supper and had a cigarette. And pleaded for a beer in the fridge but didn't get it of course. ("I don't want to be an enabler") The activities were great distractions but it was still hard for me. I felt so out of it, shaky, anxious and uncomfortable in my skin and looking in the mirror sober was a little scary. My face kept looking like it was distorting a bit. And then the more depressing thoughts and outlook set in more. I feel jealous of the baby's so far happy, tended-to childhood. And then feel stupid for feeling that. And tired. Tired of feeling. And so I lasted about 12 hours clean and then went home. It wasn't as bad as it could have been but it's clear I need in-patient detox afterall. I'll be going in sometime in May. Probably the earlier the better.
One little thing to celebrate: one week no drinking. I hope it lasts at least a year.