There’s something crawling on my skin
I can’t see it, but I know they are there
My doctor said I should give them names
Personalize the pain I feel
Find the source, discover reason
But I am sure that this is where it starts
There is something Whispering in my head
It begs for some attention
My doctor says I should give it
Listen with an open mind, invision
The lingering meaning at its core
I am sure if I do that
I won’t have a doctor anymore
I wanted to be someone. I think about that daily.
I wanted to be someone and yet I sit. I became nothing. I am not helpless, nor hopeless, nor lost. I am not broken from the wasted pages surrounding the computer desk. I am merely something that became nothing. A person less blob of what could have been.
I am still capable of many things. I can still write my way into a heap. Carefully singing old hymns of what once was. A dream instead of a dark memory. I am here cutting away and pasting little hopes I once held for myself. I make the patterns on my skin.
I truly did want to be someone but I don’t actually remember what that someone is.
How could you leave when they are standing
By the door expecting
You to return, but there is nothing
That can save them now
Why would you leave them
For a bottle of forget me pills
Now they are graduating
First grade with a finger painted certificate
Hanging on grandma fridge
You told them they would always be with you
Pinky promise in the living room
With a lady in the corner
Taking notes as ordered
You smiled at them
And held them in your arms
But it wasn’t long until you were gone
They are in 6th grade now
And can’t remember how you feel
Because you decided to take a break
With forget me not pills at the kitchen sink
But they know your face
Stiffened with grace
Though grandma does all she can
She is suffering in your place
Because it’s her baby girls body
That flashes in your place
How could you leave them?
When things just started to change
I hope it was worth it
Because they may never understand
Inspired by NF
A bitter innocent and the hint of contempt make it impossible to sleep. Yet she wraps her arms around me and dares to dream while I lay shuffling through nightmares; I’m almost completely devoid of anything else. These nights break me, but she won’t let me shatter. I wonder if this is worth it.
I didn’t get evicted. Mainly because they never showed up like they said they would. For two days, I sat there thinking the worst. Holding this belief that I had not only failed my child but lost us a home, and they never even came to check things out. It makes me wonder if they were just having a bad day when they made that threat. It’s the only reason I can think of as to why they haven’t talked to me about it. I have had no emails or calls, and though I have walked to the office a few times, it hasn’t been mentioned as of it.
So what was with them making those threats? What was with them scaring me? I know that I should probably count my blessings.
I have my home
In a few weeks I will have my job
My daughter is safe and happy, as am I.
So what’s the problem?
I found a pair of socks that I kept from 2001. Well, I got them from an old best friend’s mother sometime around 2011, but they are one of those new year’s socks. The one with won’t clocks on them to celebrate the end of the year. They are cute, and I loved them. I still do, but they have holes in the toe from me wearing them too much. They are also a little more grey than white. No amount of bleaching will bring back the color they used to be. But I love them.
They reminded me of a time when I wasn’t happy but content. Yeah I remember that I spent a lot of time with this friend. Her parents would let me come over nearly every weekend. We celebrated almost every holiday together as well. There were actually a few times when I would go home with this friend on a Friday only to go back to my parent’s house that following Monday after school. Notice that I said home, because hers was more a home than any place that I had lived before.
It wasn’t perfect. This friend and I had fights. I occasionally disappointed her parents. And I am almost certain that 2 of her three older siblings hated me. I would say all three, but in recent years, one of them messaged me cause he wanted to date. Which was strange, but he was the hot older brother, so score (?).
This friend and I lost touch after high school. Honestly, it was bound to happen. Thinking about it now we were friends due to proximity. We had enough in common to hang out but not enough to keep the relationship from turning toxic. Back then mg disorder was not yet diagnosed and I wasn’t seeing a doctor. So I had a lot of issues that went unnoticed by many people. She had some problems as well. Some of them ok but others pretty toxic in their own right. We could have attended therapy and grown up together, but we didn’t.
I tried my hardest to stick around, but she wasn’t for it. So we stopped being friends, that is. She stopped answering my phone calls and text messages.
But I kept those socks her mother gave me. Even when I was homeless, they stayed in whatever backpack I carted around. Even when a shelter I stayed at kicked me out and refused to let me get my belongings, I still kept those damn socks.
It’s been nearly a decade since I spoke to her. What’s funny is I kept in contact with her momma for a bit after that, but she was a major republican and worshipped tr0mp. This wasn’t an issue for me, but I was pretty vocal in my distaste for him, so eventually, she unfriended me.
I still got the socks, though—those 20-year-old socks.
I do not have a best friend anymore.
That feels so strange to say.
I do NOT have a best friend anymore.
The one who held that place finally decided that they were done. Over. Enough. I wasn’t worth knowing anymore. Not by action that can be named but by those that still caused so much pain. This friend. This entity decided that I was their newest enemy.
I should have seen it coming. Actually, no, I did. Made a whole post about BPD and friends. But see it was not my personality at fault, in fact, one would say that I was downright innocent but that can be debated. See this was clearly fated when I spoke to my therapist about signs of abuse and if some could be found in the stories I shared of us since our youth.
“Well, she yelled at me, but it was totally my fault!”
“Haha yeah she made some off-handed remark about how I wasn’t enough, but where was the lie in that?”
“Ok no, she can be controlling but it’s endearing. How love is shown by manipulation. I mean, ok not always but she is happy so there was no need for my hesitation.”
My therapy sessions sounded like recorded excuses. One’s where I recalled all the times when she implied I was useless. But I stuck around cause I had no one else. Because I needed a best friend, above all else.
I no longer have a best friend.
She is gone.
Decided that I was someone who she no longer wanted to pull along.
It’s strange to say, after so many years.
Maybe one day I will get used to it and properly heal.
I liken friendship to dying. I know that it will eventually come to an end but a part of me, a huge part, wants to try to make it work anyways. It’s like wading out in a pool. Every encounter with another swimmer could either lead to them swimming farther away or them swimming closer for a moment to chat. But eventually, the leave to swim their own path.
That minute connection is friendship. That lingering touch when I am noticed, and all is well. That’s clarity to me but more often, that no does not last.
Those who have BPD give their all. I remember joking with a therapist once about a support group I had been in. You could tell which people where diagnosed with bpd by the stories that they told. We give novels in places of episodic summaries. In a way, I think this is because we know that things will not last. So we shove as much information into an encounter as we can and think very little about how it may be the thing that drives others away. It was bound to happen anyway.
Of course, this is not a struggle that everyone holds who share this diagnosis. But it is familiar enough that I have made a note of it with my friends and family. Those who also share in the disorder tend to gather and relate. So I have noticed how we all tend to regal friendships in a seasonal way. Our summer friends never last past the next spring. Our winter friends will maybe stick around till the holidays are over. Fuck the spring friends; those guys only stick around for a few days max. Fall friends are the type to only call and text. Haha, jokes, right?
That doesn’t mean that we don’t have lasting friendships. I have known people for years and consider them friends. But they came in waves. For the most part, our friendship never truly ends. Instead, there are moments when they can deal with me and moments that they can not. So I can go for even months without talking to them to decide to speak to me. Or for me to remember that there is a chance that might care. It’s rare for this not to happen.
There are reasons for this but I do not understand them. Maybe more therapy is needed…
I blame her
Because children are more resourceful
It’s more respectable if she is the reason
I can’t leave my home
I can’t leave my bed
People understand
In ways they can’t if it was just me
“Oh no worries, I know how it is”
“Lmao, that is just how it is with kids”
I blame her
Because it is easier to believe
Why I scream into my pillow
Why I can’t speaks days on end
They understand her
In ways I just don’t get
So I blame her
Just to fit in
I like to do random updates through the year so that people can get to know me. Which is probably neccessary considering I mainly write poetry on here. But ya know, I got to keep people on their toes I guess.
Whatever that means.
So here is another random update.
School has been hectic. I am doing surprisingly well this semester though I am also doing really had. 3 A+ and 2 F.
How did I accomplish this beautiful feat?
Well my therapist says depression. For some reason my happy chemicals are only present for the classes that I enjoy or ones where the professor makes the class interesting. Even if it is one I would normally dislike due to the subject or the nature of the course. I do well because the professor is responsive, as are my classmates. With courses I dislike or ones where the professor is…meanish, I do not do well in. It is almost as if I become drained of all energy when it comes down to doing the school work.
Like for instance. I am failing a course and asked a professor for help. His response was basically to tell me to do better. Like thank you my guy! Such enlightenment 🙃.
The other professor is for speech. For those of you who have been here for some time you probably know that I have social anxiety. To the point where I have been diagnosed with a minor form of Agoraphobia. Why minor I say? Because I can leave my house and talk to people if the reason I need to do so is for my kid. But I can not do those things for me.
So I order groceries online because grocery stores make me anxious and I go to the doctor only when things start looking like ginger ale ain’t cutting it no more. Even something as simple as taking out the trash is a hassle because there are people at there
Breathing people who can judge. They are CONSTANTLY staring and judging and bound to hurt me.
Fun times.
So, as per school rules, I told her about my accommodation and that I may struggle with this course. In top of that I asked for some suggestions.
Her response
OH, just give it a try
Ok just let me jump on that 🙃
Now, there is nothing wrong with this. I whole heartedly stand by the notion of trying something before deciding if you can do it or not. Here’s the stitch though, I did try. I try every day of my life to be normal enough to stand in front of a group of people and state my thoughts and feelings. There are days when I can barely look my therapist in the eyes because I assume that she will judge me and I can not bear if it she does. I…I do try but there are days when trying gets me nowhere. So unless she is willing to give me a few accommodations I will fail. And lo and behold…I am.
That aside, I am doing well I guess.
I moved. My daughter and I got a bigger apartment and she is loving it. We have a gated patio that is fairly large and she has big plans for it. Plans I am just to flabbergasted to say but I will give a hint, it involves a shit ton of chalk.
Blessings to you all!
The memories are coming back
Hidden in the snow
Tiny messages
‘You are not alone‘
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 