You Can Sit in the Front

Being a person with Borderline Personality Disorder is like being on a rollercoaster. Everyday has an up and down; even if my day is going well, you don’t know what is setting me off and going on in my head.

Waking up is like taking a ride everyday; the ride looks great from afar- it starts with waiting in line and waiting for your turn and once you are at the front of the line you need to take that ride… after all, all your friends are doing it.

I get on the rollercoaster and take the first seat available; the front seat. That’s it, I crave the thrill of the ride. I feel nauseous but I am anticipating the seat belt check and the team member to give us the ‘go ahead.’ This time I am going to make it.

Click, click, click… I can feel the ride and the day starting off bumpy. My whole body shakes with the click, click, click of the tracks. My day starts off with not wanting to go to work because I don’t feel like I am making an impact; but I stay in my seat till I reach the top.

Just as fast as I get to the top, something sets me off and I am plummeting to the ground; a thought, a feeling, a memory. I try to open my eyes but the flashes in my head are too fast and I just tightly grab the bar and close my eyes. I don’t want to be in my head.

The twists and turns come as fast as the initial drop and my head is making things up about me. Telling me that I am not good enough and that I don’t belong.

The ride is jolting me left and right no matter how many times I checked the seatbelt, I am still being pushed back and forth. I hold on as tight as I can but this skill doesn’t help. I hit my head on the side; I hit the side repeatedly and I can’t stop. It’s the way to make the thoughts stop so I just let it happen.

My day comes to a slow plateau when I pass Joe on the side of the rollercoaster. He is watching me and cheering for me on the side and telling me to hold on and he will be there at the end of the day; at the end of the ride.

The rollercoaster comes to a screeching halt and I hear, ‘click, click, click…whoosh.’ and that’s the end. I get out of the first car with bumps, bruises and a sense of accomplishment.

I made it another day; I made it another ride.

Until next time,

Wait for me at the end.

 

You Lead

The wind swirls through the air- sometimes I can see it and other times the wind is still but it is always there. 

There are times I can’t see you and those days seem to drag on and it’s because you are the only one that understands what it’s like to sit with my thoughts. 

Sitting with my thoughts is extremely hard. You recognize that difficulty and when I do well, you are the first person to tell me that you are proud of how well I am doing. Most of the times I want to run to a far off place where no one will find me but you are there to bring me back to the present moment and you stay. You stay. 

I appreciate all the work you do- you can see in my eyes where I am. And just through my eyes, you remind me to let you in and that you will stay with me. You remind me what is in front of me and what is here and now in this moment. Sometimes I drift but you gently pull me back to center. 

I can’t ever explain how grateful I am. You are one person I can always count on to make me laugh but make me work too. You don’t give up on me like others do. You feed me knowledge and teach me to live with grace. You lead by example and you show me what it’s like to be a mom, teacher, friend and wife. I love when you look out the window and tell me a story of your struggle and remind me that you are human too. That makes me feel normal. You are so humble, you probably don’t even know what you do for people like me.

You make me feel like I am a survivor and that I can march through this war. You remind me that my diagnosis is just a diagnosis and not a blemish or a scar. You teach me how to cope and more importantly, you show me that there is hope for a better tomorrow.

Until next time, 

Thank you. 💜

The Rabbit Hole

My breath is shallow and my mind is lost. I try to focus but at what cost? I can’t hear and I can’t see, I just see a black tunnel and at the end is a silhouette of me. I stand there still, unable to move. It’s like I’m watching a movie and my life becomes the story. 

I can’t tell you my secrets because you will judge me and I know the reason is because I already judge myself. 

In this hole, in this tunnel there is nothing but darkness. They say there is a light attached at the end of the tunnel but that’s a lie. The truth is at the end you just die. But when will death come? When will death come for some? When will death come for me because I don’t want to sit here waiting on this bended knee. 

I sit here and wait in this tunnel so dark, it’s as dark as the corners of my mind- a place I don’t invite you because I am too kind. 

You will never know what it’s like to be in here. My brain shouts to be free. I bang on the walls of my brain but the neurons fire so fast I know that I can’t last this way. The neurons fire and the desire is great, I need to get out before I collapse to my feet. 

I lay here wondering who will be toeing this line…following me down this rabbit hole- don’t worry I’m fine? 

I don’t want you there, I want to be alone. I don’t invite you because you aren’t as strong. I think you would be scared, I think you would run and I would still be here, my silhouette outlined in the darkness. 

Run I say. Run like you do because I won’t chase you. I can’t make you stay, I can let you run. Run as fast , you can and don’t look back. You can’t save me; let my world turn black. 
Until next time,

Just let me write

Watching the Clouds

I sit here and watch the clouds pass me by and wonder what it would be like to fly?

I wonder how clouds would feel in my hand. 

Would they brush through my fingertips the same way the cool ocean water slips through my fingers on a warm summer day or would the clouds feel soft like my favorite blanket that I wrap myself in by the fire while it snows?

If I try to hold them tight, would they disappear like the warm sun drifts off into the cool night?

If I hold them carefully, would they stay like a fragile piece of glass intact in my fingertips?

If I smell the clouds and inhale deeply, does it smell like clean cotton on laundry day?

And if I took a bite, a bite right out of the cloud, would it taste like cotton candy after a day at my hometown carnival?

I just don’t know but I hope one day to find out but it can’t be today.

Until next time,

Allison

So You Want to Leave?

You say that you are working on your independence and you are trying to get out of our therapy group. I have to say that I am jealous and envious and I have no problem stating that or telling the world that I am envious that you are getting better.

What I want you to know, which you never will, is that it makes me fearful that you are leaving all of us behind. I am scared to be alone- physically and emotionally. You used to be where I was- don’t you remember what it was like to be me? 

I’m jealous; jealous that you are brave to take that next step in your life and envious that I am not. 

Take that step and leave if you must but don’t say we will get together and we will stay in touch because that won’t happen. Don’t tell others in the group that we will go out to restaurants and eat together. People lose touch- it is out of sight, out of mind. I am not saying that you don’t have good intentions, you certainly do, but it comes down to my jealousy of what you have that I do not.

I wish you well- I really do but if you are leaving our therapy group then I can’t see you anymore. You are getting better but leaving me behind and reminding me of what I am not.

Until next time,

Don’t you remember what it was like to be me?

I’m Glass

I’m glass. You can see me as half full or as half empty. It doesn’t matter how you see me because I am all glass no matter what is contained inside.

I’m glass. Each particle makes up a piece of my history. Each scrape and each chip is just a reminder of where I have been.

I’m glass. I feel so transparent but when depression sets in, it’s like a dark liquid clouding your view of me. I don’t let you see what is really going on inside of me.

I’m glass. Fragile and still strong. You can break me with the touch of your lips but I gain a strength from your hurtful words.

I’m glass. If you drop me, I will break and scatter all over the floor. There will be shards of me that you will never be able to find again.

I’m glass. Don’t try to put me back together because there are pieces missing and I will leak in front of you.

I’m glass. I can’t leak. Once broken, I will always be broken and you can’t see me this way.

I’m glass. Once you break me, I will never trust you to hold me again.

Until next time,

Don’t let me fall

Frayed at Both Ends

​I feel like I am at the end of my rope. Time and time again I try to hold on and with the tightening of each muscle, the end of my rope becomes frayed.

I want to use this rope for many things. I want to use it as an anchor. I want to use it as a lifeline. I want to use it as an means to an end.

Each time I have opened the door to therapy, it gets harder. Each time I have walked those creaky stairs to get to the room, the walk seems longer. Every time I sit on that couch it’s like time stands still. 

I can hear the ticking of the clock but the hands aren’t moving. The only thing moving is the rapid fire shots in my brain telling me that I am not good enough and I will never get better. I just stare at my therapist hoping she will see through my bullshit.

I make the long drive home and my rapid fire thoughts have turned into rapid fire judgements. 

‘You will never be good enough.’ 

‘You will always be like this.’ 

‘You will always be labeled with Borderline Personality Disorder.’

Being labeled is like being branded. It will always be there and it will never heal. However, my branding is different because you can’t see it. You don’t want to see it do you?

I try to talk to you but you look away and I know that you have no idea what to say to me but I wish you would just hug me. Tell me it’s ok. Ask me to stay.

Therapy is too hard and I want to take off like a thief in the night leaving behind a trail of nothingness. I want to escape into the dark never to be found and never to be seen. I’m not worth it. Don’t look for me- I’m not worth it. Don’t see me- I’m not worth it. Don’t speak my name- I’m not worth it.

This rope I hold in my hand is fraying at both ends. It won’t hold me much longer…

Until next time,

Allison