Apparently, you’re not supposed to post on social media when you’re depressed, angry or lonely. Today I am all of these things.
I am depressed because I am alone, and I am depressed because I feel as though my anger will simply be absorbed into the world without generating a blink from anyone. I am alone because I feel friendless, with only my cat to keep me company on cold January nights while my partner sleeps in Texas.
I know that the truth is, I am not friendless, and that I have a strong support system in my partner, in my best friend Erin, in my friends from work. But on days like this, I simply feel isolated.
Today, I am angry. I am angry with myself for taking on this woe-is-me persona.
As though my problems are meaningful. As though my problems are not meaningful.
This is the duality of being borderline.
I’m upset with myself for avoiding feeling, I’m upset with myself for thinking I matter. I’m upset with myself for having the audacity to imagine I don’t matter, and I’m upset with myself for indulging in feeling.
I’m well aware that these dichotomies don’t make sense. That doesn’t stop me from living them.
I can’t seem to shake the depression off my back. Being alone in upstate New York can be terribly, terribly cold.