Month: February 2016

GetAttachment-2

Finding My Feet Again

The cracks in the day began in the early hours of the morning. The sun didn’t rise in its usual way and my body lay motionless with only a dull pulse beating under a shroud of darkness. I look away to mask the secrets that are somewhat hidden behind my eyes. I tread quietly but my shadow falls too loudly, too suddenly, disturbing the peace. I have swallowed my own voice. Noises flow by in tiny murmurs. Sounds that were once words but misplaced their significance somewhere along the way. Our roads merge and diverge without warning and without reason, while our minds wind their way through the unknown. Even though my eyes are closing, my fingers still itch to write. The blood of my ancestors ripples through me and I write by the light of their departed stars. Their light flickers over the places that I cover up with solid smiles and murky reasoning, but with open arms and good intentions, I make my way across these deep and uncharted waters, because….well, because that …

GetAttachment

The Circle Game by Monique Potter

My hands are wringing with an urgency to never leave this place and I sway, inhaling the terrifying sweetness of it all. The greed is leaching out of me like a stream of honey, slowly covering my skin and filling the spaces around me. I resemble something that is half human and my mind bends in preparation for the onslaught of ecstasy that comes right before that inescapable urge to destroy myself again. Tonight there is beauty in destruction, even if it’s nothing more than existing in this moment without dragging up the past. As the early morning hours creep up I swerve to hit the concrete because that is the only way I know how to stop. I can no longer recall the darkness lifting. It seems to have followed me here. Was it really only a few hours ago that we lay side by side as I ran my hands along your skin? And here I am now fighting the urge to smash my open palms against your front gate.  In my mind, …

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What could have been?

In my experience, I was never someone who “responded” well to medication in order to change my behaviour (quite the opposite really). I’ve been on every drug known to man (and some quite unknown), but all of them carry side-effects which outweigh any kind of benefit that they may offer (most have none), so (for me), they’re not even an option and have not been for many years now.

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My beginning

This is only my second post on this site– the first post that isn’t in the Ask About BPD segment, so I wanted to share some of my story. I call it the beginning only because this chain of events is what forced me into treatment. I’m sure that over time I’ll divulge information that predates the events detailed below. We’ll call those prologues when we get to them. For now, I’d like to share a post from a personal blog of mine. I started this blog because I wanted people to know they weren’t alone. When I started my journey I couldn’t find anyone who seemed to think and feel as I did–I felt that I was truly alone. That was before I discovered this lovely Blog and associated Facebook page, of course. I hope you will read this with an open mind. Boy, am I far from perfect and I hope that if you don’t relate to my story you will at least withhold judgement. Trigger warning! This entry discusses intense feelings of …

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Ask About BPD: Self Medication

Ask About BPD: I have a question… why is the only thing that seems to make my son seem half normal to self medicate. When he is stoned he seems to manage so well and seem so at peace and able to cope.. but as soon as his buzz wears off he is crazy angry again ;-( It’s a lose lose situation it seems ….   I’m assuming that the drug in question is marijuana, so I will base my answer on that. Self medicating is not uncommon amongst people suffering from any number of the many varieties of disorders that fall under the depression umbrella, especially those of us living with BPD. Nearly half of those diagnosed with BPD have histories of substance abuse disorder, a shockingly high number, though slightly less surprising when you consider that one of the most common characteristics of BPD is a lack of impulse control.   Why Cannabis: One would seem to be hard-pressed to find a high-strung marijuana user–not to say that they don’t exist (I work …

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BPD Voices: My Mother Stole My Identity

Today’s post is by Scott Michael Heath ***Warning. This post speaks truthfully and honestly about parental abuse and its long term effects on our development and BPD.           My Mother Stole My Identity. An Open Letter to the Woman who Ruined my Life.  People often say they (or someone they know) are “having an identity crisis”. The true meaning of an identity crisis though can mean different things for different people. Usually it means a period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person’s sense of identity becomes insecure, typically due to a change in their expected aims or role in society. BUT… What if you’re me? I have not had a “period” of uncertainty and confusion, it has been a long-standing thing which has been plaguing me since I was born. Sure, I did not have a very good upbringing (to say the least), which could have had something to do with my identity (or lack thereof) being shaped the way it has, but realistically, as you become older, should …

The past that haunts us

Yesterday I fell and I fell and I fell and I kept on falling. From night til morning and morning til night. With each breath I crumbled. I anticipated each word you wrote and I fell. You didn’t acknowledge what I was really trying to say and I was sure that I was the only one who still cared. Who still hurt. I prayed to god you wouldn’t be visiting me in my dreams again and I prayed you would have disappeared by morning. But when I woke up you were still there, curled around my heart. Yesterday I missed the way you would look at me. I used to know what you were thinking by the speed of your blink. I missed the sounds and the smells of our old life and I couldn’t grasp the concept of one day being your person and then the next day, a stranger trying my best to forget your name. In giving myself to you, in trying to forge a life with you, I ended up losing …

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What the heck is this Mindfulness I keep hearing about?

Rebloged from: My Journey With BPD by Michael Johnson: What the heck is this Mindfulness I keep hearing about? 12/18/2015  Mindfulness has sort of been the new buzz word in Mental health treatment. Much spawns from DBT therapy which tells us that we are where we are. Mindfulness teaches us to stay in the moment. This practice far out dates the recent attraction to it. Many far east meditation practices incorporate it and have for thousands of years. One of the best coaches ever in basketball was Phil Jackson, AKA “The Zen Master” I recently read an article on ESPN where All NBA player Stephen Curry of the Champion Warriors listed it as the 1st of 4 fundamental beliefs their coach Steve Kerr preaches, who played for Phil Jackson. I practice mindfulness every day. I have to. My brain is designed and developed different from others. It’s not natural for me to be in the moment I am (re) training that part of my brain. I had breakfast with my father yesterday and saw my …

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The Ones We Let In

This afternoon it rained, and with that rain fell loneliness. And that loneliness fell on me and it seeped into my skin while I stood there and watched. I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. It was almost as if the stillness would somehow save me. It didn’t though. The rain wasn’t washing away the sadness and tears like it does in the songs  you hear on the radio. The rain was the sadness and each tear drop held what seemed like a piece of everyone I love. A portion of loneliness that I wanted to take away from them. My body drinks up the rain as though it has seen drought and I hold out my arm because somehow it’s a comfort to watch. Like a needle etching a tattoo over my scars, it paints a picture of someone I used to know so well but who disappeared without a trace. I try to make Joni Mitchell’s haunting voice take me further back. Back to a time where different faces, different minds, different …