Poem: My Sleeping Poem **trigger warning**

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:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/where-science-meets-the-steps/201512/the-destructive-power-borderline-personality-disorder

me and one of my best friends in December 2016

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

Poetry: Nostalgia

I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about my ex boyfriend A after I had a dream about him. That love story is actually super complicated but that’s another blog post.

Me at age 16

The light falls on his eyes for a few minutes

And I see the flecks of green in them

But what I really see is a different life

I see the life that could’ve been mine

I see the kids we never had

I see the us that was and couldn’t be

But mostly what I see

Is a world full of remorse

Because of adolescent lies and pride

That made us say 

Sorrowful goodbyes

Goodbye Hazel Eyes

And the almost happy future

Held in them 

Poetry: Waiting

This another poem inspired about the great breakup of 2001. I probably wrote this when it first happened. My sense of reality is shook up after a break up and it feels like a never ending nightmare that I’ll never wake up from after it happens. This doesn’t happen with every break up…just the ones that really affect me.

Waiting 

So I wait for the phone to ring
To hear you say
this loneliness has all been a horrible dream
So I wait for you to show up at my door
To tell me you can’t stand being away from me no more
So I wait for your love letter in my mailbox
To begin getting back together

Poetry: Unhappiness

I wrote this poem in fall of 2005 when I was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities of being a mother, a girlfriend, a student and a worker. As usual at that time, I took on too much and was trying to be everything to everyone. One trait of BPD that I’ve carried throughout the years is over extending myself sometimes to my detriment in order to make other people happy.

Me with my middle child circa late 2005

Feelings I can’t turn off

Quickly come in droves

Don’t know what to do 

My options are few

Do I follow my gut?

And get away from this rut

Or do i stay here ?

And become what I fear;

A woman that settles

And lets others meddle 

A woman with no mind

And with everything, she is fine

But can I turn off the real me?

And stay so unhappy

Poetry: False Stability *trigger warning*

I wrote this in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.

me in March of 2020 when I wrote this poem

Appearances were kept well for 15 years
the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs
I pretended like everything was fine
And yet there were ominous signs
I never felt like my authentic self
and always felt false
I tried on this so called suburban bliss
and mediocre routines
but knew it just wasn’t me
So I ended up in profound misery
And one day I wanted to forever sleep
To forget my mediocre reality
I took 15 numb feeling pills
one for every pseudo happy year
I wanted to slip into a forever dream
to never wake up to my false stability

Poetry: Long Ago

I wrote this poem about my husband in 2006 when we were in a rut of routine and being parents. I remember thinking how hard it was at the time to reconnect with him.

Long ago…

Passion was lost

Where did it go?

What has it turned into?

Perhaps into comfortable feelings

Of gratitude and friendship

And boring things like that

But how can we find once again?

The long lost passion 

That we once had. 

Poetry: Free

I wrote this in 2006 when I was frustrated and fantasized about leaving my husband.

deserving better

What if I don’t think?
About our precious link
And decide to go
Without letting you know
And let you wake up
Free of our never ending rut

What if I don’t feel your love
And am no longer good enough
And continue to fight for us
And leaving you becomes a must

What if I choose to be free
and leave you abruptly
and live my life without you
because I finally learned my value

Poetry: My Happy Place

I wrote this poem in 2006 when I was in the midst of my quarter life crisis.

There was once a place

It was my happy place

But it forever disappeared 

When puberty appeared 

Now I live somewhere else

Where almost everything fails

Where there are no more giggles

And everyone is fickle

Where being sad

Is the fad 

And no one cares

About anyone else

What I would give 

To get away from this 

And go back to 

Where no one is rude

And everyone smiles

And no one is a liar 

Poetry: She Flew

I wrote this poem in 2006 when my mother-in-law passed away. She was an incredibly kind and lovely person.

She flew one afternoon without warning

leaving us in a state of grief and mourning

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

And now everyone left behind

Has rivers running from their eyes

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

Regrets and remorse

Has become our two worlds

Why did she have to fly ?

Was it really her time?

No fancy words could ever express

How it feels to lose your best

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?