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…
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.

Violated, followed and all on film!

Today was a typical BPD day… A great start, planning festival, meeting with the team, coffee and tea with two wonderful people who are going to help me. I then had a well deserved nap. I woke up with plans to write up a blog, have a blast on the guitar and have a friend round to watch a movie, that didn’t happen, I got down, panic was involved, self doubt and harm. I had my dinner, felt crap, decided to go walk it off, distraction, distraction, distraction…. It was relatively late but so bright and warm outside, I never thought it would be dangerous, I always basically stick to the same route. I went out with nothing but my keys, looking like a tramp with a baseball cap, sun glasses leggings, trainers, a crap T-shirt and an Adidas jacket. I could not look anymore unattractive. A man that was walking past me in the opposite direction, commented on how sexy I was, this almost made me chuckle, it could not have been anymore untrue! I ignored him and continued walking. When I was speedily on route home I could here someone right behind me, a little to close for comfort, I thought perhaps I was being paranoid but reached for my keys for protection as I just felt unsafe but I never looked back, then I heard, “Your bum is so sexy, oh my God, I have my own flat…” When I looked back, I realised my paranoia was justified and he appeared to be filming me. At the crossroad I said, “Please leave me alone!” He continued following me and said, “Just listen to me, I have my own flat and you are so sexy…” He kept on saying I have my own flat and how I had to listen. He was then basically walking along side me. I stopped and pleaded for him to leave me alone and go away. As he got the message, I changed route, shaking and feeling extremely vulnerable. He just dissapeared, this made me more nervous. I then saw a man that looked descent, passing on his bike. I called him over and he kindly walked me to the top of my road. We then shook hands, he told me his name and asked me mine, so grateful, I told him and as I walked the remainder of my journey home, I wanted to kick myself, I had just told a complete stranger both my name and basically where I live! What an idiot! I really think he was harmless but of cause everything had escalated in my mind by then and I still felt unsafe. I mean, some pervert out there has video footage of me on his phone! I got home and called the police to report the incident immediately. It is so sad that trying to keep myself safe, fit and positive, resulted in me being unsafe and negative. I cannot believe how bold and crude he was and just hope that I will never see him again. I feel disgusted and unsettled, more anxious then when I initially left the house, which is so bad because I was trying to be proactive and apply distraction. Anyway the policeman came and I finally felt safe at home! Violated but safe!
So the policeman stayed about an hr, we talked and he made me laugh with his funny cop stories, like once he was called out to a lady who was distressed, it turns out that she just wanted him to a)get her some Chinese and b) pay for it c)pick up and deliver !!!???? Say whaaat!? When he left, as advised, I called the home treatment team crisis after hours number. I was not in the least bit happy about the receptionists tone, she was not at all empathetic, she disrespected and challenged me when she mentioned the long waiting period and I asked for specifics. She said, “you are not the only in the que, there are seven people before you.” I tried to explain my situation, the police recommendation but she kept saying, “What can I do, you tell me, what can I do!?” I said that her tone was displeasing to me and tried to explain that my disappointment and concern were not personal to her but personal to the supposed crisis service! As if I had not already been through enough that night, some hoity toity receptionist clearly had a bee in her bonnet, relished in her power and dismissed my needs! Two hours later I called again, it was typically the same woman. She denied everything and I just wish that I had called in front of the police, then and only then would I have been able to prove the huge chinks in the system. If I was less distressed, I should have made note of the time that I had called and the ladies name. I finally got a call back, two and a half hours after my first call of distress. By then I was exhausted and so the help that I received was debatable. The next morning, word had got to my CPN at least, and she called. I went to see her in the afternoon and she gave me a prescription, medicine is not always the answer but it has really helped since as I (now three days later) am still shaken. Let us just hope that footage of a curvy girl with a huge bottom, walking fast with holey leggings, dies not show up on YouTube! That is unfortunately out of my control but I have since purchased a rape alarm, huury up Amazon, I won’t go that route for a while but this Chick needs to get her walk back on!