I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
What do I do with a mind that won’t quit?
It keeps me on this never ending guilt trip
These racing thoughts keep me up at night
And tell me write, write, write
And I want it all to stop the overflowing inspiration
from my muse cup
But this is who I am
and forever will be
a bipolar and BPD me
trying hard to deal with existing
Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
even as I lost her in parts
first came the extra pounds and inches I ran off from the curvy girl who used food as comfort
and for a while a stranger stared at me from the mirror as I wondered where my cleavage went
or how my waistline got so small
then came the spectator and the passenger I lost as I gained confidence and power in sharing my truth, in sharing my art and I became the main character and the driver of my own life
finally I lost the princess who held onto others for safety, who relied on others for acceptance and love-she left on a windy October day when she conquered a phobia that haunted her for 15 years
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
but she couldn’t stay around if I wanted to grow, to evolve, to become the mother my children
always deserved, to become the woman I always wanted to be
I wrote this poem in March of 2022
I want to be soft again and fall in love
without thinking
that feels like a special kind of freedom
to share the burdens with someone
to share the laughter with someone
to share a unique kind of love with someone
but my heart is locked under a fortress
and I refuse to let anyone in
because in all honesty I don’t think
I could stand the pain again
when another lover leave suddenly
and I’m left again with the shards of my heart
to put them back together and carry on
Aqui esta la version en espanol de este poema:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/24/poesia-que-espera/
I can’t wait around for you to choose me
I’m losing sleeping with dread and anxiety
imagining you loving her
I think this needs to end soon before I lose it
I’m not made to be the “other”woman
I’m not meant to be a third party
in anyone’s love story
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
My solitude comforts me and completes me
this much tranquility is a gift
I thought being alone meant wearing a misery crown
Instead I found serenity and calm
I found a love I thought was impossible
self compassion and self love fill the void within
to care only for myself is a blessing
And I need to stay like this for a while
anything else feels too draining
being alone feels like the ultimate prize
in this beautiful thing called life
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in
I wrote this on Valentine’s Day of 2022.
I fucked many recklessly without a purpose
some part of me was looking for love
it was a temporary cure when I wanted to avoid emptiness
it was a temporary cure for my painful loneliness
so I used the the magic of my body
to feel like somebody, like I was worthy
But one day I got tired of how it wasn’t enough
and found my worth and self love
I mean, sure it was fun but I’m done, done and done
I forgive the person I once was who mistook lust for love
I didn’t know any better and settled for prince charmings
when I really needed a king to match my love energy
A king who accepts all of me and not just her body
A king who wants to evolve and grow with me
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I wish for sleep to take me away to a dreamless land
but I’ll take unpleasant dreams about ghosts from my past
just so my body can get a full night’s rest
But sleep evades me,it runs away from me
like a lover who lures me with a taste of love
only to abandon me on a whim
and I try and try and try to shut down my mind
but tonight an emotional triggers hit me and trauma visits me
My body and mind remembers the adrenaline rush
of emotional and physical wounds and it scares sleep off
I wonder what to do next and get angry at my traitorous body
but I remember-trauma is complex and while most of it has been processed
There are still remnants that come out to be seen, to be addressed
And I end up here with the nightmare of insomnia that won’t let me rest
And while it’s scary I remember it’s also temporary
eventually my body has to give in and I’ll fall asleep
How does death change your perspective?
word press prompt of the day
lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-
lately I feel like I’m not doing enough
and lately this fucks me up
so I over work, over exercise,
and over post
to make myself worthy of my existence
I want to make sure I’m leaving
some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy
behind that I’m remembered by
but it’s really me trying to please
the inner critic in me
who comes out when I’m most vulnerable
in my grief
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m constantly shunned from men who profess their love
when I show up feral and without a filter
They’ll call me their princess until I show them my wild
They always love me beautiful and submissive
and they leave when I get assertive and subversive
They feel deceived when they fall for a polite princess
And somehow end up with an amazon Queen
Maybe it’s the Incan in me who can’t reign it in
They say, “you’re too much, you’re too crazy”
Is there a man out there who can handle my duality?
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. I was angry.
Fighting for my cause
I question everything I learned
I take time to pause
my childhood lies burn
and make feel lost
Fighting for my family
I get so fucking angry
Why are people so shitty?
insulting my ancestry-
projecting their insecurities onto me-
Wait, are they jealous of me?
Fighting for my life
I pause of a while
thinking about all of my strife
and the past I need to reconcile
to move forward with my life
but this fight is worthwhile
I wrote this in January of 2022.
I’m at another one of life’s crossroads
trying not to make a turn for the worst
don’t stop but don’t go too fast
I want my momentum to last
I slow down and observe
and carefully ride life’s curves
and this time I really listen
and reach out to close friends
I’m not okay but I will be okay
soon I’ll find my way
I’m still grasping for a stable sense of self
and learning how to love and accept myself
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 January of 2022.
My emotions cloud and distort my reality
anger brings out passive aggressive social media post
sadness tells me I’m worthless
joy makes everything seem magical
numbness makes me want to end it all
hyper-sexuality makes me want to fuck almost everyone
My emotions cloud and distort my reality
I get paranoid, mad, sad, happy, and horny all in one day
My escapes used to be fucking and drinking
But I got older and wiser
And now I run and I write
My emotions cloud and distort my reality
And I learned to regulate and control them
I observe, I listen without judgment
and I honor my emotions
My emotions cloud and distort my reality
but now only for a short time
And I’m in control again
I’m no longer a mess of destruction and chaos
Life on the BPD 