Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/17/poesia-inquieta/
I am restless and unsettled
realizing you never loved me
I was just another girl to you
nothing special, nothing meaningful
just someone temporary to pass the time with
I’m growing tired of this repetitive story
Another love that expires when I ask
for something more
Another story that starts off with so much promise
only to end up as another tragedy
I wrote this in January of 2022.
my real diagnosis should be “failure at love”
childhood trauma gave me abandonment issues
teenage trauma cemented it and added identity issues
combined with chronic emptiness
I couldn’t stand the constant void within
so I chased love trying to fill it
constantly sought out validation from men
to stop feeling ugly and alone
I’ve used them and they’ve used me
as band aids for our mutual loneliness
and when I start to feel sure of their love
it suddenly disappears
and all of my issues came back with force
with suicidal ideation entwined
And still I dusted myself off
and tried my luck with love over and over again
thinking each time it will be different
except it never is
they always tire of me and decide to leave
and once again my insanity hits and I break
Intrusive thoughts spiral in my head in an endless loop
“’i’m a failure to love,i’m a failure at love,
i’m a failure with love,i’m never enough,
i’m worthless, death must be better than this”
this was my tragic love story for 26 years
but on year 26, I said “fuck this tragic love story”
and I got the courage to change it
I’m not a failure to love, I’m not a failure at love
or I’m not a failure with love
I’m enough by myself, I can be alone by myself
and I turn into a success story of love
I wrote this in December of 2021.
I was never the marrying kind
Don’t know why I forced myself into that line
Maybe because of society’s expectations
I made marriage my destination
But it wasn’t really who I ever was
Forever is not meant to be in my book of love
But still I tried for seven years
And by year 7, I ran into my biggest fear
I felt trapped in a cage of my own making
Happiness, contentment, and authenticity I was faking
But it was never truly me
Living this suburban reality
And one day I wanted to sleep forever
My mind collapsed from society’s pressure
to continue this facade of being the perfect wife
With my perfectly imperfect life
My authenticity I had to put aside
I’m a wife and mother of three
There’s no such thing as being free
But these were the lies I told myself
The critic in me I learned to quell
I learned I could be a mother but not a wife
My husband took our relationship’s demise in stride
There would no more anniversaries
We were done with self imposed forgeries
And a new chapter started with us
One full of laughter, friendship and familial love
Aqui esta en enlace para la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/22/poesia-dime/
Why did you break our romantic ties?
What did she have to make you leave me suddenly?
Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story,
of finding myself the woman used and scorned?
I’m fucking exhausted with rage
always making the same mistake over and over again
giving all of my myself to another confused man
who leaves me when I’m no longer easy
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. I guess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced.
There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears
Over something that would end soon.
There was no use in feeling devastated over
Something that never should have happened.
Vows that should never have been taken.
Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning.
Empty words that were never believed in.
8 years of marriage; an institution we thought
would bind us for eternal life.
So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect
wouldn’t break us apart.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
Just like he forgot all of his promises to
“Try harder” or “to change”
So I wouldn’t leave.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary.
And it’s fine.
You don’t celebrate something
That is already dead.
Para la versión en español de este poema, haga clic en este enlace:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/19/poesia-la-oscuridad/
You left me in an eternal darkness
Without any compassion, without any humanity
You caused me an infinite pain
with your malicious and false ways
You left me in a world of insecurity
How can I trust ever again?
But I promise you thing
you’ll remember me
After our painful parting
You had it all with me
And now there’s no way
To recover my love
With a unique and ardent warmth
I wrote this in January of 2018 when me and my starter husband had opened up our relationship. The person “B” who inspired this poem was the first guy I was with after this transition. It’d be the first of unstable whateverships/relationships from that year that would restart this unhealthy pattern. This poem is also a perfect example of my black and white thinking. I idealized my husband and devalued the other person. I also felt guilt and shame sleeping with someone else who wasn’t my husband even though we were in an open relationship.
I’m disappointed once again -being here with you
You represent everything I thought I wanted
But-
You don’t compare to him
You make my body sing with kisses
but don’t sweep up the mess that I am
You give me pleasure
but can’t handle my pain
You are there to fuck me
but never to rescue me
SO I choose him
Who chooses to be there for me
When I chase for death in a bathtub or a bottle
Because while sex and lust feels good
When it’s happening
It doesn’t compare to the love
and support he’s provided in keeping me alive
So I say goodbye to a life
Full of lust filled fantasies
and accept the one and only who truly
cares for me
So I had forgotten to post this poem from the great breakup of 2001.
I guess it was fate
For you to cross that thin line
Between love and hate
You were really a waste of time
Now you’ll never know
How good you and me could’ve been
Or how much I really loved you so
But your love was only a smoke screen
I even thought we had forever
because I wanted to believe you were true
but I guess you were another whatever
and I was another one you’d screw
Now there’s nothing left to say
and it’s time to forget everything
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.
Simple decency is becoming extinct
Manners and politeness is rare
rudeness and sarcasm is the norm
Being kind feels outdated
in this narcissistic society
filled with superfluous and superficial people
Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes
everywhere
There is no escape from this epidemic
of the nothingness
that tries to appear profound
It is a society that blames the victim
“ but what was she wearing?”
or
“He was hanging out with the wrong kids”
It is a society that’s prejudiced against
anyone different
“Go back to where you came from”
“You’ll never belong here”
“People will always remember
how you made them feel”,
Maya Angelou said
Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone
Is how this world makes me feel
I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself
to this world full of shallow feelings
I miss the kind and real people
in this world
It’s rare to find them now
They are almost extinct
I wrote this 2013 about my husband.
Silence, awkward silence is what was left after everything they needed to say was said
It was the same fight over and over again.
Old wounds were brought to the surface and reopened.
She blamed him for derailing her ambitions
and he blamed her for derailing the productive and selfish life he once led.
They both couldn’t see that they were both at fault
for not continuing to push each other to flourish
but instead they fell into a complacent spell
And a pattern of a comfortable
and the fruitless routine of suburban life.
And the years went on and they had nothing to show for it
except debt and wrinkles they both inflicted upon themselves.
And the years went on and all that was left
was regret for her for the things that she didn’t get to experien
I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.
Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you
Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks
Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me
Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation
August 2009
In anticipation of the night
I was excited to see you
But then we met
And the look you gave me
said it all
without saying anything
at all
I had warned you
I had changed
But you refused to believe it
and held onto
an idealistic image of me
in your head
Worthless small talk ensued
Even though there was
nothing left to say
Your body language screamed:
“Get the fuck away from me”
But a small trickle of hope
cemented my feet to the ground
next to you
And then a sorry excuse
trickled from your lips
And you left me stranded
that night
I wrote this in October of 2007.
Unanswered whys continuously haunt me
Why didn’t we last?
Why did “us” end?
We were the best love story
Where was our happy ending?
Why did our romance suffer an
abrupt and cruel end?
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from this even if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
Life on the BPD 