My safety just left the house. It was actually my husband. But I call him my safety when I am feeling like this…emotionally unsafe, precarious, transparent, and purposefully floaty to dull the internal sense of panic.

Click went the door as he left for work and the beginning of two days away from me. He works away and stays away overnight every week without fail. I hate it. I always have. I always will. I dislike separation when it is my significant other, my partner, my best friend. He is one half of the 1 plus one that makes me whole. Please guys don’t shout at the screen with your chants of  ” YOU SHOULD NEVER LOOK TO SOMEONE ELSE TO COMPLETE YOU.” You evidently don’t have BPD and emotional wounds such as I. Someone with BPD would never tell me I was wrong for feeling incomplete, for feeling half a person, and being lost without that other half. If you have BPD like me you will understand that on bad days like today, I am not sure I am even a half. I am more a slither of a person, a segment, a fragment.

‘Don’t leave. Not today. Not when I feel like this. Please.’

I said this in my head. I spared my husband from hearing me say it. I didn’t need to say it. He knows I will be thinking it. When I say to him quietly “I will miss you” the sub-text reads…please don’t go. But he has a job to do, and I’m an adult *apparently*, so I have to be a grown up woman who can emotionally cope when her husband, her safe person, goes away.

I use the word ‘apparently’ because when I crumble like this, there is nothing much adult about me at all. My voice goes little girl like, in a subtle way, though I try and put on my normal voice with my daughters. I cannot be an dismal role model to them giving the message that alone I have no strength…so I feign strength when they are around. Seconds after I heard the door went click and my safety left, I was chatting with daughter no. 1 excitedly about the (second hand) iPhone that is arriving from ebay for her in the next few days. In her little world, getting an iPhone is all she has ever aspired to. It signals the beginning of her belonging with her peer group, who all incidentally had their iPhone’s years ago. Daughter no 2 is a toy obsessive who not only gets immersed playing with her toys, but spends hours watching some American eejit called Cookie’s world C opening blind bags of shopkins and other such tat. Her world is very much a toy world.

But in my world, I am the forgotten toy. I am not plastic, more cloth and china. I have substance, and my maker is more bespoke and original than Mattell, but I am still fundamentally just a toy. A forgotten one.

‘Don’t leave me here on the shelf. I’ll cry when the lights flicker off and the shop closes and I realise I’m alone, unsold, unwanted’.

Except that is rubbish. Firstly, I’m not something to be bought and sold. I have a deep soul. I am also not unwanted. I know that rationally. My husband wants me very much. He loves me. He would not stay away every week if it wasn’t a requirement of his job.

So why do I feel like this?

Why do I feel I will disappear into the chair I’m sitting in if there is no-one here to observe that I’m sitting in it?

Why do I feel like I’m melting into a pool of water?

Why do I feel like I’m slowly sinking under the ground?

Why do I feel like the walls are closer than they were a second ago and are gradually encroaching on me and will eventually swallow me whole?



I dissociate when I feel emotional pain. I can’t easily help it, and I hate it.

My perception alters (Derealisation.) Things look different. It’s quite scary, but I’m used to it. I know it won’t hurt me, it’s just a perceptual/attentional disturbance which I instinctively did as a traumatised child to help me survive.

But why the heck do I do it when my husband works away for fecks sake. Is derealisation/dissociation really called for in this situation? Nope.

Basically this whole post should be titled “Summer inappropriately dissociates when husband leaves for work, to numb her from reminders of emotional pain created by traumatic childhood in which she very much felt like she epitomised the lost and forgotten toy” but I didn’t think it’d be as catchy ;)

Everything I have written here in this post is irrational, but I AM irrational, so I guess I can only write introspectively about the irrational stuff that does actually happen inside this brain box of mine. If I didn’t write about it, I’d be lying on my blog, and what is the point of that?

Does anyone else have these reactions when they were left alone by people who are important to you? I hope I’m not the only one. If I am, ho hum, I am used to being different. This is my dissociated life.