I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Do I sabotage every love dream
because I’m insane and have BPD?
Or is it the men I pick who easily give up on me
when they can’t save me
Maybe I’ll put this love thing on hold for a while
to enjoy my newfound tranquility-
to focus on my emotional stability
because every time I try to love someone
I end up fucking things up
And it’s not fair to me or them
to make them love an emotional and reckless trainwreck
who never knows when she’s gonna break
Consorting with this newfound empowerment is overwhelming and lonely at times
I finally understand that never again do I have to depend on a man for anything-
and I breathe a huge sigh of relief
I no longer use them to determine my worth based on whether any of them
pay attention to me
I no longer use them for validation and no longer make myself small
for their ego
I now determined my own self worth and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for
since the age of 15
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Could you spare me some validation and affection,
so I can feel like a real person?
I thrive on the love and attention of lovers
I don’t know how to feel whole or enough by myself
And admitting it is so embarrassing
But wait, don’t go…
Fuck it! I’m done with this life of dishonesty
here comes my brutal truth-sorry if it bothers you
but I’m done reigning it in for the comfort of others
I’m clingy and melodramatic with emotional warts and all
and even though my truth scares off everybody
At least now I’m free to embrace and love the real me
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I warn potential lovers about me
about how crazy I can be
about how I fall in love easily
but they never seem to listen
and fill me up with adoration
and don’t proceed with caution
Instead I’m placed on a pedestal
Where they professed their love
That’s when I feel the pressure
of being everything they want
So they think I’m really the one
and their love will last long
but eventually I break down
in my emotions I start to drown
They’ll say, I thought you were healed
You’re so damn crazy
They see me as an atrocity
And once again I’m tragically crushed
By another temporary and fickle love
Who can’t handle me at my worst
Driving phobia filled me with shame and fear for 15 years
and on a windy October day,I took my power back
that day I learned not to listen to my inner critic
rambling on about my incompetence, feeding into my anxiety
and my constant insecurities
that day I took the keys and drove
and while it was absolutely terrifying
it provided me with the understanding
how I had the power all along
to take the steering wheel of my life
with a new determination and purpose
to never again allow myself or others
make me a passenger again
it had been a role I had long ago outgrown
that I had been afraid to let go of
but that day I said “fuck it, it’s now or never”
and I took a chance on myself
and never felt more empowered
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
my doubts, my fears, my insecurities
should pay rent for the immense space
they take up in my mind
they crowd me and make me question
my worth on my low days
they show up with intrusive thought saying
I’m not good enough
or I don’t deserve my wonderful life
my doubts, my fears, my insecurities
Constantly try to bring me down
and sometimes even my affirmations
aren’t enough
What does freedom mean to you?
Describe a risk you took that you do not regret.
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of wonder, full of splendor
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of sadness,full of sorrow
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of love, full of laughter
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of anger, full of hate
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I hide the craziest parts of myself
The parts that get sad,
The parts that get obsessed
The parts that lose hope
I hide the worst parts of myself
the parts that feel empty
The parts that feel numb
The parts that want to die
I hide the craziest and worst parts
of myself
so no one else will leave
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I wish I could be perfect to everyone in my life,
the perfect mom, the perfect coparent, the perfect mistress
but the pressure gets too loud within me
And I need to get away from how I want to be perceived
I’ll never be the perfect anything
I’m never be June Cleaver or the perfect dream girl
I can only be authentically and imperfect me
And maybe me and everyone in my life
need to accept that’s the best I can be
I wrote this in December of 2021.
Thanks to learning about my BPD
I’m finally free to be me
There is a reason for my numbness
and for why I’m such an emotional mess
Genetics and trauma played a part
for me constantly falling apart
There is a reason for my impulsivity
and for why I distort reality
There is a reason for men running away from me
when I go from being sweet to being crazy
And now that I know I have BPD
I can conquer the world of DBT
I hope that after I’m more calm
And stop going off like a bomb
Hopefully I have more control over my emotions
And there will no longer be hysterical explosions
I wrote this in March of 2022.
I never needed anyone to teach me how to love
what I needed was understanding and acceptance
while my love is kind and sweet most of the time
my love also cannot be tamed at times
when it gets wild and out of control
it’s better to just ride the big wave of it
until it is tamed and soft again
it wasn’t that I didn’t know how to love
It’s just that most don’t know how to handle it
my kind of overwhelming love is a crazy kind of love
it will hurt you, challenge you and bring conflict
it will make you want to slap the shit out of me
because yes it’s that intense
but my kind of of love is always worthy
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
I’m tired of the bustle and hustle
that comes with my social status
and the color of my skin
Why wasn’t I raised with privilege
and wealth instead of being raised
with poverty and trauma?
And I try and I try and I try
to find a way out of this cruel existence
but it’s futile
I take pride in my never ending hustling
but at times it feels so exhausting
There seems to no end in sight
for this fruitless fight
Life on the BPD 