I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was frustrated with Matt and blamed him for my life going awry. Looking back, it was misplaced blame on a situation that only I had control over. At the time, it was much easier to blame Matt rather than take a look at myself and how I was responsible for the mess I made of my life.
So I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was dating my husband and maybe I was foreshadowing my future with him (sort of-haha). I think that maybe I was paranoid he had someone else at the time because he was such a private person. Reflecting on this now is kind of strange because I was the one that ended up with the indiscretions. I was 22 when I wrote this and I have I think that this is a good example of “splitting” meaning that I went to black and white thinking about him.
I knew I wanted to write a post for Borderline Personality Awareness month, but I didnβt know it would be this post-about having suicidal ideation once again. Itβs hard to write about this since I havenβt been here since last summer. Here is a place where I want to do everything or anything to stop the intense emotional turmoil and pain, Iβm in. Here is a place where I write dark poetry about ways to end it all. I mean my poetry got so dark; Sylvia Plath would have been proud of me. Here is a place where I cry multiple times a day and any little thing is a trigger, and my coworkers start asking me if Iβm okay. Here is a place where it feels like none of the healthy coping mechanisms (writing, music, keeping busy, talking to friends, mindfulness, long walks in nature, etc.) are working and I started to wonder what the point of it all is. Whatβs worse about this happening this time around was that there was no tragedy or life changing circumstance to trigger these feelings of wanting to die. If I had to pinpoint the trigger of this major depressive episode, it was as simple as upping the dosage of my mood stabilizer. Now, I was already in a low mood since last week because my quality of sleep had gone to shit lately so last week, I asked my medical provider to up the dosage on my mood stabilizer that I take at night to sleep. I was also working an extra shift at my second job, so I was more tired than usual.
My stubborn and determined ass making it work each day
On Monday night, I started on the new dosage and on Tuesday morning I woke in a state of extreme anger and agitation. Iβve been here many times before but this time it felt different. Everything and everyone annoyed me to the point that I wrote some really mean and cruel poetry and played my ANGRY AF playlist on repeat. This was the alternative to what I really wanted to do, which was to punch walls or smash something to bits and pieces. I also imploded on myself and went into self-hate mode where I hated my brain chemistry, my BPD, and well basically myself. Being in this negative mindset felt like several steps backwards based on all the progress Iβve made and that made me spiral even more. I cried at lunch that day. I went to my second job and felt fine after.
That anger tho
On Wednesday, I felt I was in a better mood and thought I was in control of my emotions. I even wrote a poem about how my therapist was so instrumental in helping me. Then the afternoon came, and I got a rejection email from a grant I applied for that really hit me straight in the gut. Once again, I was extremely angry and agitated. And I almost went into my βIβm going to be reactive AFβ mode. However, I was able to stop myself. I headed to my second job and cried on and off the first two hours of work while I was stocking. Luckily, I reached out to my friend βKβ through text and she was responsive. Also, I was closely working with my supervisor the latter part of the night so that kept my mind busy. I ended up going to sleep later than Iβm used to and woke up on Thursday a complete and utter emotional mess. Because of the state I was in, I made the responsible decision not to drive that day, but I still went to work. For the first two hours at work, I cried, and I couldnβt do anything to stop it. My coworkers kept asking me if I was okay and I lied and said I had a raging headache. Iβm not completely out to the whole office yet about my BPD or all my mental health issues. Maybe they bought the lie or maybe they didnβt. Throughout the morning, I tried my best to practice mindfulness to calm down and it helped a little. Then I had a second cup of coffee and that did the trick because I was finally able to be coherent enough to chat with a couple of my coworkers. I want to think that my βmasking skillsβ from the past really helped in making my coworkers not suspect how much of an emotional mess I was. I reached out to my friend βKβ once again and other friends and they were all responsive so that helped. And then lunchtime came, and the dark and intrusive thoughts came out in my poetry, and I cried a lot. I guess getting the worst of it out helped because my mood improved in the afternoon. I decided to clean up and organize my office. I made a list of tasks to occupy me at work for the next few days. I made a separate list of tasks I wanted to accomplish in my personal life. I also decided to do something kind for myself and signed up for swimming lessons since I never learned how to swim.Β I went to my second job and that also kept me busy which helped me tremendously. On Friday, I woke up in a much better mood and drove to work. I felt this huge sense of relief, but I finally felt like I was back to what is now my normal optimistic and confident self. This sent me into a bit of euphoria that got me side eye from one of my coworkers. Lol. Okay, I know itβs kind of ridiculous for a middle-aged woman to get excited at the supermarket over cuatro leches cake and a sour patch energy drink but damn after a 3-day suicidal ideation episode, itβs the little things that count. I took the terrible experience as another way to learn about myself and maybe try more preventive measures next time I switched meds or upped a dosage.
Back to myself on Friday
Β I learned that my mental health was declining when I started listening to the same angry or sad song over and over again. I donβt know how many times I listened to βThatβs Hilariousβ by Charlie Puth last week. I also learn that when Iβm in the worst of it, I need to listen to the βFuck Love βalbum by The Kid LAROI. Donβt ask me why, something in my brain finds his teenage angst and anger comforting. I also learned how I dissociate during these episodes. It was like a watching this train wreck of emotions take over my body and mind and not being able to do much about it. It was difficult and scary to experience. The best thing I did was keep going to work at both jobs no matter what. I feel like this kept me busy enough from spiraling even further. Also, planning something to look forward to like scheduling swimming lessons was extremely helpful. Reaching out to friends about how I was feeling bad and getting their love and encouragement helped me as well. And of course, understanding that the feelings of hopelessness and despair wonβt last forever and honoring those feelings through journaling and writing poetry is important. For some reason, documenting whatβs going on helps me process and get through an episode like this quicker. When I get into a major depressive episode that causes suicidal ideation, it gets scary and lonely. Having a diagnosis like borderline personality disorder makes me 1 in 10 people who could give in to that hopelessness and take action to take my own life. Even at my worst, there is a voice inside of me that is determined not to be that 1 in 10 because well, Iβm too awesome to die. Also, if anything else, I donβt want to do that to my children and leave them with that trauma. Iβm proud of how I handled this depressive episode. I listened to myself and used all the resources I had to get over it quicker. I remember that last year and the year before then, I had many of these episodes and would either try to drink it away or buy something from Amazon or do something self-destructive. I didnβt do that this time around. The fact that itβs been 10 months since this happened shows how much my mental health has improved. For anyone going through this, understand that youβre not alone and itβs okay to feel how you feel. The important thing is to keep going because even if it doesnβt feel like it at the time, there will always be something in life to look forward to or get excited about. It could be new food to taste or that new album from your favorite artist thatβs about to come out, or even seeing a rainbow after it rains.Β
I wrote this in January of 2004 when I first started dating my husband. The age difference between caused a real uproar in both of our families and my friends.
I wrote this in June of 2003, it wasn’t inspired by anything in my real life. Sometimes I have these crazy scenarios come up in my head and for better or worse I write a poem or story about it.
After making love to him for the first time I lie there and wonder How I am so fortunate to have fallen in love With a wonderful man Who loves and cherishes me like no other And then I leave and I forgot something I come back Iβm across the street and I see a woman come out of my boyfriendβs house and to my astonishment It was someone that I used to know
I wrote this in 2003 about Lucas. I was again obsessing about him.
Everyday I think about you more and more My heart canβt help itself I close my eyes for a brief second and your wonderful and attached self is what my mind sees. I catch myself missing you and it doesnβt make sense to miss something I never really had. You did something to me without having to do anything. Maybe you accidentally put a spell on me . I still canβt figure out why you, Mr.Forbidden has become my new unrequited love obsession Maybe love really does come out of the least expected place Or maybe I will always Desire the one that I canβt have.
I wrote this in May of 2003 when I was going wrestling with a terrible bout of depression. I kept trying to find the light of the end of the tunnel but it was hard.
A sponge is what I am as I start to absorb this mortifying and painful experience From a sponge I become A meatloaf of frustration From a meatloaf I become A tall and full glass of self pity and regret From the tall and full glass Iβm trying Very hard to become a hard rock of acceptance