Excuse me whilst I rant

I had a really really bad episode that lasted a few days. Maybe even a week, I am not to sure. So I decided to send some links to someone to help them understand me better. Well that was idea until I ran across this lovely article that…well…it pissed me the freak off.
This site is, Mental Health America, said a few things that set me off a bit.

See it started off extremely insulting

What is Borderline Personality Disorder?

The symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder can be summarized as instability in mood, thinking, behavior, personal relations, and self-image. Individuals with the disorder may:

demand constant attention and make unreasonable demandsavoid being alone by acting out a crisis or dramatizing a problem

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha no.
See I am an adult and what they are describing is the toddler nect to me who is currently upset and crying because she didn’t get to eat more then one gummy vitamin. 
Not an adult who struggles with reality and sometimes does or says things to correct said reality. Who feels way to much or not at all. Who is afraid of being alone even if they person they want most is just in the next room. They are not some clingy girlfriend that demands you log your whereabouts every tens minutes.  They are people who constantly worry about you every tens minutes though. Who have to fight the urge to check up on you every few hours, because if they do, they feel like they are bugging you.
They are not some child lying their way unto mommies good side ( No she isn’t getting any more vitamins, I refuse to clean that blowout if I was to give her more)
It is someone who tries their hardest to please someone because they are afraid of them leaving. They are afraid that their true self, what ever that is, will not be enough for someone. So they hide. They create a different version of themselves. They hide in the shadows for so long that it becomes reality.
Not everyone does that though, lie that is, some are capable of expressing how they feel. Those feelings tend to be high though. What feels like a papercut is not an arm being chopped off.

Despite that my all time favorite is this

histrionic personality – self-dramatizing, self-indulgent, demanding, excitable, vain
narcissistic personality – intolerant of criticism, self-important, lacking in empathy, envious, constantly demanding special favors
antisocial personality- callous, reckless, impulsive, irritable, deceitful, and emotionally shallow.

Your basic psycho right!???

So this person who wrote this is basically making BPD put to be this horrible thing and that people who have it are the lowest of the low.
Which is strange because although our emotions are an extreme high many of us are way way empathic.  Which means we feel for others way to much and out them before ourselves. I won’t even eat unless my daughter has had at least two meals. Yes I starve myself till dinner so that I know my daughter really does have enough to eat.
Envious? I want a dog really bad. I got jealous at a couple next door because they can have one and I can’t.  Hell yea I cry but I talked to someone else who doesn’t have BPD. Guess what she did for years cause she couldn’t have a dog. She cried about it from time to time. We love animals. Guess that makes me not only envious but vain because I compared myself to her.
This pisses me off and just goes to prove just how much things need to change. How much BPD needs to have more recognizition. But don’t take my word for it. I am deceitful, remember?

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BPD & Parenting

I am a mother with BPD. A single mother at that. Someone who is unable to see the world as this shinning place. Not like her…no probably never like her. My daughter loves and loves and yet I have times when I feel like I am bringing her down. That she would better off with another family. Someone who isn’t tainted as me.
Who is able to walk outside without checking the doors and windows as they leave. Who is able to walk outside without the fear that someone will follow behind and hurt them. That when they get home someone will be waiting for them.

There are things I worked past. I no longer knock on my front door before I enter and I can finally open my blind enough to let in sunlight. But so much hasn’t changed or has even gotten worse. I get frustrated with myself. I try to much to be perfect for her that I hadn’t noticed that it made it easier for her to see me being weak.
I cry at night…nearly every night. I distract myself to stop the whispers from taking over my mind. It is the whispers that make me insane.

We have our traditions. Our mommy and me activities that no one else is allowed to join in. I can tell she loves those times. Yet why don’t I feel good enough. Worthy enough to be her mother.

This post though…this post made me realize those faults. Made me realize that in the long run I could be setting her for a life much like my own. A life where I can even go to bathroom when I am home alone. At least not without knocking on the door first.
I don’t want this life for her.

I know it won’t happen overnight but I pray to God to give me the strength to be there when she needs me. I know she needs me. I am her momma. I know she loves me as I love her.

Forced nightmare

I remember it all and not a day goes by that I don’t try to forget. Drown my troubles in my own dark vices. Some gaming, music, books…. Drown my sorrows in false realities.  World’s of vampires, of dragons, of magic and passion. Filled to the brim with things they aren’t and may never be.
But why do you continue to force love out of me?
I am trying to move past, in my own special way. So why make me relive it, every fucking single day. Why make me feel pain for not wanting to go insane?
Why make me hide my true feelings for some else?  Why should I when they won’t even do the same for me.
I should suffer for their happiness. 
Forget the horrors they helped give me.
So what!!? Why did I need to pretend to forget? That I don’t have anymore nightmares. That going to the bathroom doesn’t scare me. I can’t work without jumping everytime a person moves to close. Sudden movements scare the shit out of me. People. …people disgust me.
Especially females. Untrustworthy.  I just over feeling like many of them were nothing but useless worms. People who are more then willing to sit there as a child is hurt.

I know better now. I know so much better now.
Doesn’t change that fact that at one point I was scared to do normal things. Couldn’t bath, couldn’t eat, all I did was sleep.
I am getting better. But don’t you dare force love unto me. Don’t you dare try to make me forgive someone who shouldn’t be forgiven.


I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. 

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. 

I hate it
I hate my body.
The world does to.
Magazines lie to me, telling me that my body shouldn’t bring me shame.
Toss it all up and wait a few days.
Cause if you take a bite , you will gain even more weight.
Look at the fatass giving a go.
Look at that fatass trying to make her goal.
She isn’t worth it.

She will fail.

They don’t know that, she is burning in hell.

Day in and day out, I hate myself.

I ate out today. I haven’t been able to eat in awhole. Not unless others made it. Not unless I could heat it up. I got hungry though. I ate something..and now I want it gone. I want to get rid of it. I am a horrible person. I am disgusting. No wonder no one loves me. No wonder no one answers my phone calls when I need them. No wonder I am alone. No wonder I am hated. I deserve it. I am disgusting. I can’t stand the lies people tell me.
I am NOT pretty. Stop trying to change the subject. I am a fat ugly blob.
Why can’t I be more like her. 

She is pretty. 

Everyone loves her. 

Why can’t I be more like that. 

Why can’t I matter. 

 I just want to matter. 

To someone…anyone. 

I don’t want to be alone anymore.


The preacher heard me prayers
Asking for my sins to fly away
Forgive me Lord and everyone
Know that I have faults
For I am a sinners son
Preacher heard me lie that day
He knew sin wasn’t done
He sat there with a smirk
Knowing I wasn’t the only one
I yelled and praised as all before me
Sundays best clothed me
The preacher heard my praise in vain
Cause he knew I would sin again
Once the day was over
I went outside with all the rest
Went home that day
And stabbed my father in the chest
Preacher could see it in my eyes
So it came to no surprise
He felt the world had wronged me so
So held my hand throughout the day
Whispered evil deeds in my ear
Came to no surprise you see
To the church, those who were forced to grieve
The preacher wasn’t a



Such a shame he passed that day


Passionate surprise
There is danger in her eyes
Come clean upon the slate
Dying is her fate
She slips into a dream
And starts to demands once remembering

She isn’t suppose to feel
But the dreams make it real
Danger in her eyes
Addicted to her lies
Dying is her only choice
Yet if you listen to her timid voice
You will find
Something sane and yet not so nice.

I like and hate this
But these are my mistakes to bear
Silly how I once believed
That you would always be there
I write to make dreams come true
I write to get over you
I write to protect
To grow
To show
I write because it is the only thing I know.


I want…what the heck do I want. Do I want to sit in bed and cry.
Or do I want to go on an adventure. The adventure never goes right and staying in bed is a bad idea all on its own.

Outside maybe? Nope, there are people out there.
Maybe I should take a bath. That would require me to move. Yes laying in bed all day is bad..but is it really that bad?

Maybe I can fake it. Force myself to go get something to eat and then take out the trash. I am not hungry though. The trash is full but it can wait another day or two. There are people still aside.
They may hurt me…what if they hurt me…
But..but…I can’t stay in bed…I have to get up and do something.
I am scared though. I am scared to greet the day. I am scared of failing. Scared of winning. I am scared at not knowing.
Bed…yes…my bed is my safe place. ..but…but what if it isn’t.
What if the nightmares come back. What if the whispers start. I have to find another place. I have to find a safer place…

I need to hide. ….but…but where…

I am so scared


I have been reading a lot but never know how to review them.
I mean I have a general idea. I don’t want to be to harsh on them though. I can be a bit nit picky even if I do love the story. I have found many books that I adore and many books I want to burn in a pit filled with my enemies.
All books have some mistakes. Hell this isn’t a book but it isn’t without mistakes.

They happen.

So I will get up tomorrow and post a review. I want to so bad. I am just glad that none of the people’s whose stories I hated will ever read the reviews. Those who stories I like won’t either so I guess lose-lose..win possibly lose.

Lovely lies

What is it like to love someone. No not someone who is related to you, like a parent or sibling. No, what does it mean to love someone else. Someone like a friend. What does it feel like?  Do you feel it everytime you think of them? I am good at pretending. I am good at saying the words..but I am not good at knowing if it real or not. I have been told that when it happens I will know. I have told a person I loved them a lot..but I can’t tell if it is real. Is it when my heart beats to fast…is so..why can’t I cry when they are gone.
Isn’t love suppose to make you sad. Why can’t I cry over them. I don’t want to be alone anymore, but I don’t think I can put someone through that


Whispering my name.
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
And over
And over
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
Make it stop…

As times changes
So do the phrases
The words spoken
The way they are told

Going on and on and on and on
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
Whispering my name
Time marches on
The way it is told
Enunciate slowly
Filled with bitter rage.
Whispering my name
Whispering my name

Hiding from me
In a place I can not see
Whispering my name
Telling me to leave
Blaming me for everything
And nothing at all
It is not my fault
Was never my fault
Whispering my name
Whispering my name

Driving me insane

It was never my fault
It’s not my fault.



Don’t blame me
Such a poor soul
Such a little girl.

Whispering my name
Whispering my name

It always changes
The words that are said

Whispering my name
Driving me insane