My FP

While you’re busy looking for the perfect person, you’ll probably miss the imperfect person who could make you perfectly happy.

Brace yourselves, this is a longish one!

As all good stories start… Last night I got drunk. I don’t think I was THAT drunk. I went to the pub alone, nobody to hang with was around, I had a couple of drinks but I hadn’t eaten so I grabbed a KFC, and another bud to wash it down. I decided to go to the park, and that’s the last thing I remember. I woke this morning with a black eye, and a pounding head. Unfortunately I also woke to find I had messaged “him”. 

Haven’t read what I sent, neither has he so far, hopefully he will ignore it forever. I regret it. I really do. I don’t remember it. I don’t know what happened. Probably hit my head in the park or something, and I associate the park with him. Long story. It got me thinking just now, on my way home from my third viewing of Rogue One (go watch it), how he had been my favorite person. It’s common with people who have disorders like BPD to have a “FP”. This will be someone who we latch onto, someone who is our everything, the one person that matters, that one perfect person.

Being someone’s fp is huge pressure, it’s a big deal. You may not even know you are the fp. Your actions as fp can have an enormous effect on us. For example, with my ex (this is nearly 9-10 years ago), my fp/ex said he liked a girls shoes (bright pink doc martens), I lost my shit. How dare he like another girls thing? What about me? What about MY things? Does he like MY things? What if he prefers HER things? I was so upset. What was worse is she replied “I want you”. I was inconsolable for days. This is the thing about fp’s, I don’t think they’re very healthy for you, but it’s hard not to have one person who is your everything. “Don’t base your happiness off a person”. With BPD, that’s the hardest quote to understand.

So “HIM”. As we can do, I fell hard, and fast. He was my fp. I enjoyed every moment I had with him. They were magical. I was happy. I was healthy. The world revolved around seeing him, and talking to him. I barely knew him, but he was everything. Why? He came into my life and changed it, for what I thought was the best. For so long, I had refused to give my heart to anyone (After the aforementioned ex, I couldn’t bare to have my heart broken again). This guy, he was different. So different, he broke most of my “type” rules. Then I discovered small traits about him, that were actually something I had idolized. Small insignificant things that connected to this “perfect man” I had made in my head. That obviously fueled the fp thing.

Here’s the problem with him being my fp. He said I was putting to much pressure on him (OK understandably), but that made me HATE myself. How is that a good thing? Hating yourself?! Our time together consisted of a couple of weeks of good times, then he would “run away”, scared to make any commitment to me, but then would come back… (his reason being he was fresh out of a 3 year relationship, so I let him off). This happened for a couple of months! (AND is reason I associate the park with him…long story). THIS behavior just fulled my severe fear of abandonment. Which eventually resulted in me having a “blip” (self harming), and frightening him off for the last time. Do I blame him? Yes I fucking do. His come and go attitude to seeing me, made me terrified that the next time we were meant to see each other, he would cancel. Then he promised he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t believe him, and freaked out. Doing the only thing I know to stop the pain. Causing a physical pain (cutting).

Since I met him, I made excuses for his behavior, gave friends reasons as to why he did the things he did. He could do no wrong in my eyes, he was my fp! He treated me badly, and I let him! All because to me he was perfect, he made me happy. He rocked my world! He made everything alright again! In reality, he didn’t. I’ve realized, he should never have been my fp. I should have stopped it the first time he ran away. If you are my fp, and I’m not yours… well, you just aren’t worth my time.