I wrote this poem in October of 2020. This one was really hard to post because of the content that includes sexual assault but I believe it’s important to share this part of my story.
so true
There was no way out- and so I pretended – I acted the part of a willful lover even when I wasn’t willing
There was no way out And he refused to read -the subtle hints of no -in between the lines of forced complacency
There was no way out And he kept taking me Every which way he wanted Even when my whimpers turned into sobs
There was no way out and I was terrified I needed to let him have my body to save my life
love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos right now I stand alone, get myself together before trying to fall into the magic of love again
maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there in another state, another country who needs a roadmap, Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom in navigating a hard situation they never thought they had to face maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple out there who’s struggling can find something useful in my story, in my prose, and my poetry to get through their own hardship through the worst of it and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together in intimacy and find their own happy ending
When I saw this prompt from wordpress, I was going to write maybe a poem about how blogging has become an outlet for my storytelling and healing but the day had other plans for me. Today, I woke up exhausted as hell because I haven’t had a day off in three weeks and my emotional bandwidth is extended to the point it’s about to break or snap with my upcoming divorce hearing and every fucking feeling is just coming up. Still, I decided to go to work this morning even though I didn’t want to. I was trying to fake being okay but I just couldn’t. I felt this ball of rage inside of me seethe and persist and I started crying. I went to the bathroom and tried to compose myself and called a friend and she calmed me down to the point I didn’t feel like rage quitting my job anymore. And I got back to work, tried to mask and then the rubberband of my emotional bandwidth broke and I started dissociating. It felt like what I was doing and living wasn’t real. I told my boss and I left work early. As soon as I got into my car and started it, I felt this wave of relief. As soon as I got home, I called my friend who was incredibly supportive and felt better. It’s really hard to write to this blogpost and be so candid and vulnerable in trying to explain the challenges I face with BPD. Throughout the past two years, I’ve been able to convey how living with mental illness is like through poetry, essays, etc. It’s not easy but something in me thinks it’s important to share my story. With therapy and hard work, I’m able to manage my symptoms 80 to 90 percent of the time but today was one of those days when this episode of dissociation came up and it was scary as hell. The best way to describe it is this “inside me” watching me go through the motions of life faking it while “inside me” is in flight or fight mode. Normally, I just fight it until I feel grounded again with one of my coping mechanisms. That could be writing in my journal, calling a friend, exercising, or any one of my DBT skills. This time, my dissociation felt out of control and impossible to manage because I started to question whether or not what I was living was real or not. It was me asking myself, “is this reality or a dream?” . I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I didn’t saw this episode coming. My mood swings have been between extreme highs and extreme lows. I describe it as between a euphoric “Pollyanna” I have the best life viewpoint on one day to “Debbie Downer” Everything sucks, I just need to get through the day viewpoint the next day.
their used knicknacks, their used clothes their used whatever is taking up too much space in their closet or garage all of this is given to their browner and poorer counterparts act like ever act of charity will bring them one step closer to heaven when at times their recipients feel like it’s a act of condescension, arrogance a way to remind them where they belong a way to remind them of their working class status the haves need the have nots to have someone to feel superior to while the have nots cannot escape the cycle of poverty due to the greed of the haves
I’m a real monster when I can’t see past my anger I want to burn you down I want you to drown And at times I can control my impulsivity and revenge But sometimes my anger can’t be caged And I try to keep it in between the pages of my journal and notebooks but the resentment becomes too loud to let you off the hook So a passive aggressive status post happens with an intent to insult and offend I want you to feel my anger all the way revealed Maybe one day I’ll get much better not allowing my anger to turn me into a monster
I want to hold on to what’s real and not be stuck in a daydream I want to live in my present And not stuck in my past I want to be over you and not be triggered by the memory of you
Pretty gets me in a man’s door but also makes me feel like a whore I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean men love me when I’m pretty and submissive but not when I’m pretty reclusive men want the pretty girl who’s fun but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt pretty gets me notice but also gets me dismissed
with this new strain of COVID, all of my cell are mutating and regenerating and making be at a standstill where I have time to sit and think about what I really want, about whether or not I’m doing enough to live a life worth living or if I’m just existing in a routine of monotony that leads nowhere in a routine I’ve deluded myself into calling healthy but really it’s far from it
hold onto hope, don’t let go one day you’ll laugh about this one day you’ll be okay hold onto hope, don’t let go Remember all of the times you’ve been strong Remember all of the times you put one foot in front of the other hold onto hope, don’t let go your story is still being written you’re still in time to change your narrative
lately I hate everything I have written Sometimes I get the urge to burn Or delete everything but something tells me this is how I know I’m growing I’m evolving in my craft
I keep trying to manifest the one worthy of me but I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist I swipe and swipe on the dating apps but no one is of interest to me and so I find solace in an unrequited love that will never be more than friendship it’s the best I can do to quell the romantic in me
you’ve change from spring to autumn within moments never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism I’ve made it as simple as possible for you and nothing happens and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background
my dreamy pisces energy has gotten me in more trouble than it was worth always viewing things in extremes always making devils and angels out of people who are really just mortals my dreamy pisces energy is either my biggest curse or my biggest blessing depending on the season, the weather or the day
Life on the BPD 