I wrote this poem 2002 and it was yet another poem inspired by the bio dad of my oldest child. For many years. I had so much unresolved rage and anger about how he abandoned my son and used poetry as a way to process it.
This playlist that I will share is titled: “For the Brokenhearted: Sad Edition (the one where you cry). I don’t handle breakups very well. Actually, I handle them poorly and go kind of nuts. Music helps me cope with the multitude of emotions I have. This playlist is the kind of playlist you play out loud in your car or at home with your headphones as you write mediocre and sad poetry. This playlist is based on the disastrous and heart wrenching breakups I’ve had throughout my life. These are songs I go to when I’m feeling numb or the waves of sadness come. I’ve put in bold the ones that I like to put on repeat.
Me around the age of 5, shortly before immigrating to the States
I was standing on one side of a closed door and I heard a conversation that I will never forget. I remember being five years old and running such a high fever that my vision started to get blurry and I had a massive headache. I remember the loud whispering between my parents. My father wanted to take me to the hospital, my mother argued they couldn’t because it was too much money. It was something that my newly arrived immigrant family could not afford. I remember that was the first time I felt something extremely heavy within me. I didn’t know then what it was but it would be the first time of many times I would feel that guilt of being a burden to my parents. Eventually it would turn into a certain type of guilt that made me swallow words and feelings so I wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. I have carried this guilt within me throughout since I can remember.This is a quiet BPD trait. This trait would lead me to becoming a people pleaser later on in life. As I have gotten older, I’ve gotten more aware of this and have become more assertive in making my needs known and met. I’m still not where I want to be but at least I’m way better than I use to be.
Life on the BPD 