I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of wonder, full of splendor
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of sadness,full of sorrow
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of love, full of laughter
Deep inside of me
is a treasure chest
full of anger, full of hate
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I feel raw with emotions
It’s like someone has ripped off
the scab of an almost healed heart
and it’s bleeding once again
And while this time
it’s not pulsating with anger and rage
it still hurts
like a small paper cut
you can’t see but it’s still there
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/10/poetry-mixed-feelings/
eres mi sueño y pesadilla de amor
y estoy cansada de vivir en este caos emocional
esperando que me llames a escondidas
¿ valerá la pena esta tontería?
Viviendo en un mar de incertidumbre
que me roba mi calma y me llena con inseguridad
continuando hacerte mi prioridad primera
mientras soy algo apenas notado en tu vida
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
My diagnosis doesn’t define me,
It empowers me, it makes sense of my nonsense
I’m not crazy or chaotic or even hard to love
I’m a dream come true wrapped up in complexity
sure at times I feel like a nightmare
But don’t all of us get rough at times
So whoever gets scared and runs away from me
Sorry not sorry, I’m too much
and you’re just not enough
I wrote this in December of 2021.
Thanks to learning about my BPD
I’m finally free to be me
There is a reason for my numbness
and for why I’m such an emotional mess
Genetics and trauma played a part
for me constantly falling apart
There is a reason for my impulsivity
and for why I distort reality
There is a reason for men running away from me
when I go from being sweet to being crazy
And now that I know I have BPD
I can conquer the world of DBT
I hope that after I’m more calm
And stop going off like a bomb
Hopefully I have more control over my emotions
And there will no longer be hysterical explosions
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/16/poetry-coward/
lo siento por ser una cobarde al evitarte
debes de haberte dado cuenta
que no soy la santa que colocaste en un altar
que no soy la chica de tus sueños
que nunca seré la madre de tus hijos
estoy llena con remordimientos por esperar
tanto tiempo en cortar nuestros lazos de amor
ojala que tu no cuestiones tu valor
porque no supe valorar tu amor
ojala que encuentres a una mujer madura
que te aprecie y no te quiere cambiar
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/20/poetry-drunk/
borracha, me encontré en una cama extraña
desnuda y vulnerable
tratando de olvidar el pésimo dolor en mi corazón
cubriendome con el calor de un hombre desconocido
cedí a mis deseos salvajes para llenar el vacío
que llevaba dentro de mí
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
this year I lost myself in poetry
to help with unexpected loss and grief
to make sense of my nonsense
and I discovered my voice
And I discovered my brand of crazy
and there’s hardly a day that goes by
without using poetry as therapy
I no longer filter myself, I no longer judge myself
I allow whatever swims in my mind to land on paper
and sometimes it profound and great
Sometimes it’s emotional and angry
but most of the time it heals something within
Maybe poetry should be my new lover
because it’s always rescued me
from my chaos of emotional instability
What activities do you lose yourself in?
There are so many stories within me aching to get out
every single one wants to be a priority
but which one do I pick first
most are dramatic, some are angry and sad,
a few are happy and lovely
every story is important in a life
full of chaos and trauma
I don’t know why I attract so much drama
So I’m going to tell each story
Because I own everything that’s happened to me
Because I’m finally taking myself seriously
Are you superstitious?
is it the devil who takes over me
and makes me crazy?
Or is it God punishing me for past mistakes
or maybe it isn’t either
And I really have fucked up genetics
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
I fell into the trap of “acceptance”
not understanding I was slowly losing parts of myself
for the sake of fitting in, for the sake of other people
who loved to judge me
accept that you’re too fat to wear that bikini
accept that you’re too old to chase your dreams
accept that you’re too hard to love
it took me too long to figure out
the acceptance of others was costing me
my sanity and my self worth
and I said, “fuck your opinions on who I should be”
from now on, I’ll wear whatever I want,
I’ll chase my dreams, and I’ll always be worthy of love”
I had forgotten this poem I wrote in 2002 when I was going through something pretty hard.
I’ve fallen out of-
I’m no longer yours to-
I keep trying to find the right words
to tell you I’m done with “us”
but everytime I try
it all feels so inadequate
and I fall under a blanket of shame and guilt
and I can’t go through with it
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
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2023/01/09/poetry-silence-3/
me acuesto junto a ti en un silencio severo
Pospongo y pospongo
lo que tengo que decirte
y siento la culpa en mi estomago
y quiero sentir alivio de esto
pero como te confieso mi infidelidad
sin destruir tu alma
“te amo pero me acosté con alguien,
nunca fue mi intención herirte”
todo suena tan estupido
y la cobardía me consume
no quiero leer la devastación en tu cara
al confesarme
mejor esperare
quizás te mandaré un correo electrónic
Life on the BPD 