Bubbling Sorrow…

Showered in distress,
I cannot process,
How you cannot see,
The pain latched on and suffocating me.
My words vanish as they form and leave my mouth,
My eye sockets are inexplicably dry,
The intensity of my ill mental health,
Is hidden and sly.
My attempt to explain falls on death ears,
You’re eye on the clock,
Because time is money and you really don’t give a…
Shock,
You’ve twisted my large distorted accounts,
Into positive and small amounts.
Why do you challenge my truth?
Do you intentially mean to hurt me,
With every trigger you throw at me?
Why do you excuse the behaviour of others that have done me wrong,
Try and make a song and dance out of everything,
Probing me to sing along.
I will not waltz with you,
Duet with you,
Your steps are out of sync,
And your notes out of tune.
It converts to twenty minutes a week,
Don’t think me ungrateful,
Some people get no time at all to liase with professionals and speak,
But this is my story,
My journey,
And with all the third parties involved in my case,
It feels like only I will fall.
It takes a while for the penny to drop,
I struggle with process,
I cannot disclose,
What I don’t yet realise, Despite it being under my nose,
But with all your experience,
You should know where the story goes!?
Instead you lead me off subject,
Then hit me with triggers,
Lazy and evil,
You want me to figure,
But what do I do when it falls into place,
And no one is around,
To disclose face to face?
I turn to you.
My reflectionless friend,
The machine without the face,
But minds of many.
Sometimes people reach out to me,
Other times just dumping in a cryptic and cyber reality,
Loosens the shackles,
Not setting me free entirely,
But helping me,
And allowing others to see.
The real help,
Often doesn’t help at all,
On nights like this,
Leaving me picking up the pieces,
From the kick and punch,
Whole loads of triggers you poured,
That left me in a mess,
Showering helpless.
Feeling worse than before,
I shall not blame anyone in particular,
But the psychosis is ticking,
Depression is knocking,
Anxiety bubbling,
And self-harm compelling.
I fear to say this out loud,
So I shall share with my Internet crowd.
Just a bump in the road,
Knock on the head,
By this time tomorrow,
This bubbling sorrow will simmer,
Or i’ll be dead,
It’s only black and white in my BPD head.

All over the TV

This girl can bare the character of many faces, Believe me she’s going places, On the right path she’s going to the top,
She ain’t never gonna stop.
Her big dream,
Achievable,
Not a fantasy,
Reality,
This is her destiny.
All the bumps fuel the pumps of ignition,
She’s wound up and ready to go, Despite many attempts of ruining her flow,
You supported her she needed that,
But now all is lost,
To the debt of a mighty cost, Once proud now ashamed and distant practically lost.
I never meant to embarrass you, I never meant to let you down,
I never took away all the air,
I never wanted to drown.
Now so many have surpassed me,
I see them all over TV,
Whilst I stay back suffering from mental fragility,
I know the top is a place,
A place that has no room or space for a loser like me,
Mentally fit and positively different I wish it could be, I’ll be the one on the box for all to see,
I’ll be the one making you proud cashing in the money,
And because I’m not,
You’ve forgotten how to love me,
I never needed you back then when I was independent and strong,
I was on the right path on the right track and knew where I belong,
Out of everything that I’ve lost what saddens me the most is losing you,
I’m truly sorry for any pain or torture I put you through,
I wish you understood that my mental instability is not not a path that I would have chosen for me or to hurt you,
BPD is not what I ever believed I had,
Would ruin me,
Ouch this path pains me,
More than it does you,
It’s true,
And no matter what though,
I love you.

Imperfections;

If you asked me to write a list of all my perfections,
I’ll be honest with you,
That would be something I would find very hard to do.
But if you asked me to write a list of all my imperfections, I’d say how honest do you want me to be with you?
As the list will go on for days and days,
And it’s frustrating because in many ways my weaknesses gives me strength,
But they also keep me down.
I can’t tell you how many doors have been shut in my face,
Because I have been unable to keep up with the pace,
Be the winner,
Knocking everyone out of the race,
First place!
I’m used to loosing now,
Not placing at all,
But I know deep down I’ve not given up,
I still can feel it,
Nothing can destroy all of that,
And as a reminder
the blisters on my fingers show that I’m a fighter,
I’ve just had to change lanes.
We all fall,
But we don’t all get back up.
Judge me from a far,
Once destined to be a star,
You now may think of me as a looser,
That I have been dropped out,
That I have given up,
But you’re wrong to doubt me,
I’m still standing,
I’m just leaning,
Got my crutch whilst I’m healing,
It’s more of a feeling,
Like how longs a piece of string,
Or the distance from the floor to the ceiling,
Then a measurement of time that can be reeled in.
So delicate,
Yet still strong,
I want to prove the ignorant wrong,
But that is not where my strength comes from,
At my lowest,
When all those around me had given up,
You stood up to give me a chance,
It sounds sickly to say that I have been saved by romance,
But all I ever needed was to feel unconditionally loved for the longest time,
As long as me memory serves me,
My history,
So many have left me permanently,
Not hot and cold,
My sensitivities persieve that as bitter,
I need continuity,
Consistency,
Not inconsistency,
Blinding me,
Leaving me in now way too familiar territory,
I once thought my only hope was a magical remedy,
To give me credibility,
To get back on the right tracks of my journey,
To get back to being strong,
But we were all wrong,
The super glue I need to keep things together,
In order to get better,
Even on rainy days,
Misty and blue,
Was always you,
I was destined to meet you,
You let me hold onto you and you hold onto me too.
You’re my one true perfection,
So that’s one for that list,
With your help I am slowly administrating personal correction,
And under your protection,
Just like this imperfection list in question,
I know some day,
I’m going to make it through,
Change lanes,
And all those closed doors,
I’m gonna burst right through!
It is hard to be me,
Hard to be with me gauging by history,
You’re making it look easy,
One more positivity,
You,
You make me happy to be me,
Confident to know that I will one day gather more control of BPD,
Feel less heavy from all the pain,
Be able to manage and restrain,
And hopefully be free,
Feeling lighter,
With a higher ratio of positivity,
Enabling my rehabilitation to be the best me.

Navigate through the darkness of BPD

I promise not to be angry with you if you decide to walk away and stray elsewhere,
I most probably will be upset,
But as a veteran reject,
Every dumping gets a little easier to accept.
I do not mean to be high maintenance,
I do not mean to be a bother,
I want to explore happiness with you,
But here’s a warning,
I often get exceptionally blue.
I know depression can be mind boggling,
Psychosis scary,
Severe anxiety incomprehensible,
Self harm revolting,
Suicide attempts mortifying,
Dissociation offensive,
Self isolation frustrating,
Especially if those are things you have never personally had to get through,
But know this…
I did not volunteer to suffer from the woes that I constantly endure,
But on the border I am locked up in chains,
BPD does not define me,
But is a huge Part of me.
Borderline Personality Disorder is a complex illness that should not be ignored or overlooked!
In brief moments of clarity, When thinking rationally,
I can understand why you may be weary of me,
All the blood,
All the tears,
All the lows,
All the Downs,
All of the seeds of self doubt, All of the the panic,
Makes being in my life a heavy duty,
And for me living life,
Utter turmoil consistently.
Like a yoyo,
I am up and down all day,
But this is not a game,
Should it be,
I would never play.
For you,
I don’t want to be an obligation,
The hated person in your life, As much as it pains me,
If my condition is too much for you to comprehend,
I would rather you hurt and offend me,
Dessert me,
Take flight,
Then pretend to be there for me.
Communication would make it easier to process,
But the pain as sharp none the less,
Yet your confession less of a catalyst for stress.
For those of you that are consistent,
Devoted,
I truly adore and thank you,
For those that have turned their backs,
I wish perhaps you had a little more patience,
And took the time to try to understand that my illness and it’s symptoms are not something I can control,
Not anymore more than I already am,
I cannot turn on or off on command,
You cannot force or demand, That I reach upto your expectations,
So neither should you pick and chose when you want me in your life,
I just want you to hold my hand,
Be it literal,
Or virtual due to distance, Don’t turn a blind eye,
Dismiss my ill mental health, All the work I am doing to hold things down,
And be my best self.
Please don’t just chime in on social media if I’ve had a public breakdown,
Or turn up if I’m in hospital, Or buried dead and gone,
That would ultimately be too little too late.
It is important that there are no delusions,
That I know exactly who is there for me,
And therefor where I belong.
Feeling loved makes me strong,
Gives me the super drive to hold on,
Reminds me of my entitlement to stay here and live on.
To feel love,
Be loved,
And be strong.
The ignorant,
Shallow,
Disloyal,
Unfeeling,
Can do one,
As I strive to destination happy place,
Manage to navigate through the dark,
I hope to feel like I belong,
To be brave,
That’s all that I crave.

Rainbow

All stories come from stories,
Fables and tales of old,
Get twisted,
Torn,
Pulled apart,
And made a new.
The art is to refurbish and tell like never before,
Leaving hints of familiarity,
Subtle enough for you to question the clarity,
Yet get you hooked,
And entertain you once more.
Words pour out of my mouth like water,
Vivid,
Fast and pure,
Never preplanned,
Or to mine ears been heard before,
I must have been a muted poets daughter,
Kept back by prejudice,
In a life before,
Now reincarnated I am still kept back with not much more to gain,
So much time has passed,
Yet judgement and exclusion remains the same,
My gender now not to blame,
But this time my brain,
Some lable me as insane,
Making publishing my work a gamble,
Excusing the discrimination with health and safety,
Keeps me at the back of the line,
Instead of the front where I deserve to be.
I want to open my mind,
Open and let you all in creatively,
I’ll keep you entertained with many a story,
Some real,
Some fantasy,
Some as dark as reality can be.
Yet people don’t want to take a gamble on me,
Be it the colour of my skin,
My battle scars out and showing,
My mental health diagnosis,
My fragility,
Potential crisis.
If I was a celebrity,
Publishing offers would fly to me,
Which is something I cannot fathom!?
I am no one imparticular,
Which makes me all the more spectacular,
Because I represent you all,
Anyone and everyone,
The masses.
I could be you,
Or the girl next door,
You’re daughter,
Best friend,
Or cousin.
Instead of allowing me to rise and connect with you,
You step over me,
You do not see me,
You will not listen to me,
Despite with all of my experience,
For the curious,
Those in the dark that need a guiding light,
Someone other to hold their hand,
To understand,
I am the connect to help you through.
The one without private health care like you,
The one who has to wait like you,
The one they medicate like you.
There is no personal Doctor on call,
Nowhere to just check in,
Thats the world of your celebrity.
I will not discriminate fleeting moments of ill mental health that others have indulged,
So why discriminate me.
My illness is longstanding,
I’ve been institutionalised,
Penalised,
Accosted,
Persecuted,
Snubbed,
Ignored,
Ganged up on,
Disrespected.
I have been to Hell,
I could tell you about that,
Demons and Psychosis,
Hallucinations,
Manifestations,
Paradise,
Euphoria.
I’ve been down to the darkest place.
I’ve been up to the highest and brightest.
I’ve spoken to the people that movie characters are made from.
My eyes and ears have explored every crack and crevice of the mind and beyond.
I could tell you a tale or two,
Some you may have heard before,
Some familiar,
Some brand new,
But I refuse to speak to buttoned up ears,
Lost in translation,
Focused on fame and vaneers.
I worry I may loose,
Or confuse what has been
As my memory looses stability,
Due to medication,
And emotional sensitivity,
And so I share snippets on here,
Both to remind and for those that support me.
One day I shall tell my full story,
Awake my imagination from slumber,
Mix everything together,
And share a rainbow of novels to suit everybody,
When the world wakes up and sees my potential as an endearing literature somebody,
Fueling books,
Theatre,
Television,
And film.
My stories,
Honest and brave,
Timeless.

Ugly Mess…

Am I weak?
Do you disapprove of the approval that I seek?
Are you aware of your neglect,
And the emotional debt that you are racking up with me.
Can you not hear nor see?
The division between us is making me feel empty,
Worthless,
You have cut the string prematurely,
I do not feel free.
I do not want your sympathy,
But I would relish in your empathy.
How can you be so blind,
And not admit that you have left me behind.
It is your duty to fix and solidify the devide between us,
To eliminate any confusion or fuss,
By keeping us wholesome.
Once a pair,
Then an equal square,
Now a triangle,
Or a pentagon,
Where has my place gone?
Should I try one more time to let you know,
Or just keep the memories alive of the good times,
Be happy for you,
And let you go?
I have tried to articulate my feelings,
To orchestrate some emotional healing,
I am the outsider without the key,
No longer immediate family.
Each chapter of our story,
I appear less and less,
As you clear out the cobwebs of ugliness,
And release me,
The ugly mess.

BPD

I feel very much on the border today,
Sanity verses Insanity,
Battling to keep up with humanity,
Desiring being a deity,
Fraustration triggering profanity,
I am just really struggling with being me,
Wholesome and free,
Struggling with the idea that I could have been anything that I wanted to be,
When fully engulfing BPD stole everything and my personality,
Placing me in a future that no one could forsee,
Taking me off track and putting me in an entirely different category.

Broken Heart

I think the reason why I blog, write poetry, spoken word, music and reach out to people on social media is because I genuinely don’t want people to feel the pain that I do. I reach out to anyone and everyone because I feel like I have lost the contact and love from important people in my life and I try to fill that void by helping others. A heavy heart and tangled brain is a burden that often leads to isolation and fatality. A problem halved is a problem shared, because you need more than one hose to put out a fire.
I have lost friends, partners and family because I suffer from mental illness, BPD and all that sails in her. I have lost a huge part of myself, my dreams, my confidence, reputation because after being constantly bullied, denied/abandoned/banished by my biological father, excluded from family holidays and reunions and you can only pick yourself up and dust yourself off so many times. I can see a world without me in it, way more clearly than I can see a future for myself. I want my own family and their only burden would be to be smothered by my love and baffled by my pride, my husband and children would never doubt my love for them for as long as I live.
When you stop going out and attending social events/family occasions, inevitably the invites stop coming in, so do the phonecalls texts and all communication.
The only comments I receive are about my weight gain, belittling or denying my illness, I receive no love off the people that once gave me so much. Do I embarrass them? Offend them? Do they honestly think self harm and suicidal behaviour is something that I am proud of, that I take pleasure in?
When you come from a working class background and you don’t get private health care, even the professionals abandon you and let you down. I had a mini breakdown last year, because of the disgraceful way that I was treated in hospital.
A family member has said to me, “If you are going to kill yourself, just get on with it and do it!” I tried by the way. At least I know where I stand with that individual.
Life carries on. I think people loose patience with people like myself. The survivors have a strong network of support. So many others leave this world because fighting depression/anxiety/psychosis is like fighting an army and no human is strong enough to combat an entire battle alone. Not even fictional characters like Arya Stark from Game of Thrones! Even her badass needed much help.
I apologise to all whom I have hurt/disappointed/upset since my breakdown 2013. I need you to know (even if you do not understand) I am ill. Would you be able to resent someone with epilepsy? Sounds a bit silly and I am not literally comparing, but sickness is sickness.
I used to reach out alot more before than I do now, because I know that there isn’t really enough help, love and support out there for me from the people that I want and need. I got so confused, at one point I was even reaching out to people from my past, whom were left in my past for a reason, sorry! Desperation is a poorly lit torch. I now understand your side steps.
I don’t need to be ignored, excluded resented by my closest/oldest (long standing) /bestest and feel that I both have been and am being.
I feel like a spare part.
I feel so tired of fighting alone.
I feel like trouble and woes just keep falling upon my shoulders.
I cannot really help myself anymore, I try my hardest to be independent and self sufficient but my demons are often all consuming. I take my medication, accept professional help but it feels like prolonging the inevitable.
Friends come and go in life but best friends should stick around through ups and downs forever.
Partners come and go in life but should I loose my current one I really will explode.
Love is so important and we understand that it should be unconditional, but more often than not, it proves not to be.
Family are your family, blood is an undeniable bond but I don’t expect my third cousin in timbuktu to be there for me, yet I do get disappointed by my immediate family not.
Age is just a number when it comes to dealing with the emotional turmoil that I do, I still need a phone call, an I LOVE YOU, a cuddle, to be held and included. I hate confrontation and so I don’t scream & shout about all this but we all know.
I think people get tired of people like me, I just want those people to know that I do not choose to be this way. I don’t want you to have to tolerate me, feel obliged to be there for me, so I silently let you ditch me but it does upset me and doesn’t help me stay on top of recovery. I have tried to communicate and hint but you are all putting a wedge between us, just please hold on until I am secure with my special someone, I won’t survive on my one.
To my blog readers I am No One, a someone representing everyone and no one in particular, but to a few I should be a special someone, and all this someone wants is to feel loved and secure to fuel the fight and sun away those dark clouds.
So never feel a burden by messaging me guys, together we can silence those terror crys.

I Know

I whisper,

But my message is strong,

From witness,

And endurance,

From my sole,

I sing our song.

I step forward,

To escape where I am coming from,

But overcome with stillness,

I cannot transit in the right direction.

Shattered glass,

That stranger is not my reflection,

Not even a resemblance,

My cocoon now a burden,

Heavy,

Fragile,

And old,

I cannot manoeuvre this creature that is apparently I,

And even get out of bed.

I feel alone in a room full of people,

I once bloomed under the spotlights,

And waltzed around the room,

Charming,

And delightful,

But this spiteful cognitive impediment,

Grows by the day,

All consuming,

Leaving me changed,

My old self defied the law of gravity,

Evaporation seemingly permanent,

Just drifted away one day,

But my soul,

Thoughts,

Emotions,

Still weigh heavily,

Anchored.

My intentions to comfort others,

Rather than seek Solace,

Are a selfless and natural act.

Retribution from a past life perhaps,

Have lead me down this long and winding path.

I know pain,

I know anxiety,

I know depression,

I know psychosis,

I know dissociation,

I know BPD,

I know ADHD,

I know.

If the endurance of this suffering has one silver lining,

It means that I can hear you without judgement,

I offer you my hand,

You can lean on my shoulder,

And together we can soldier you through to the next chapter.

I must physically let you go at this stage,

Let you take flight,

To help yourself and others fight,

But will think of you always,

As what we share,

Enables a deep connection,

A bond that cannot be broken,

Makes us one,

You Can Take It Or Leave It, But Not Me!

Living with mental illness,
Feels like a life sentence of imprisonment,
A one way ticket to Hell.
Depression,
Feels like burning in eternal flames.
Anxiety,
Feels like suffercation.
Disscociation,
A comatose nightmare.
Psychosis,
Operated by The Devil as a puppeteer.
I am the helpless fly,
Entangled in the spiders web.
I am drowning,
Completely lost at sea.
I am but half the person that I hoped to be.
The socialite,
That no one now wants to see.
Washed up goods.
Abandoned in the woods.
I radiate pain,
So you turn a blind eye to me.
Convince yourself that this situation was somewhere that I wanted to be.
I never wanted to be unhappy,
Cast aside,
Left behind,
Have a little more respect for me!?
If you don’t understand,
Have no time to try,
At least try to accept,
That the life that I live,
I never chose this path for me,
This torture,
This misery,
You can take it or leave it,
But this is real,
And you may not like what you hear and see,
But this is real life,
And really happening to me!