An Ode to my Mother

you carried me with you,

you created a monster,

you gave birth to a girl,

whose mind is an impostor.

not what you had in mind

when you wanted a baby;

you spent half your life

trying to save me.

I know you tried to do

everything you possibly could,

you always tried to love me

the way a mother should.

I was born broken

in sickness and in trauma

but its not your fault

I never really had a father.

I can only promise to forgive

but I’m sorry I can’t forget,

that you spent half your life

living in regret.

your hurt and hatred

passed onto another generation

such tragic magnetic chaos

from an awful situation

I can’t thank you enough

for everything you have done

I’m sorry I can’t be something better

but whats done is done.

even when I’m mad

or when I think I hate you,

you are still my mother

I can’t do anything but love you.

I could shout a thousand apologies

I could stand naked in the rain

but that wont make up for anything

or any of this pain.

I am a part of you

you are a part of me

we carry the same pain

the same burden, unfortunately.

I can’t think of the right words

to tell you how much I love you,

or to explain how I would break down

when the day comes I should lose you.

I can only try to appreciate

the little things you do

this is an ode to my mother

I love you.

 

 

 

Playing Host to a Ghost

Every morning I wake

with misery as my company

it’s a rude awakening

I cannot forsake.

It drags me out of my slumber escape

It pours me my coffee

although I am still not awake.

I feel trapped inside a raw body

that was never meant to be

but I put on a brave face

so nobody can see the real me.

I hide behind my smiles

and the jokes that I make

but every time I laugh,

a piece of me it takes.

My broken brain belittles me,

it is not fooled by my charm

it knows my own self destruction

it praises my self harm.

I brush my teeth

I put on my clothes

then hide my scars in the mirror before anybody knows

the deep and dark suffering

I live with every day

I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy

to feel such overwhelming pain this way.

Even when I try my best

and do what “normal” people do,

there’s nothing in this world

that can truly pull me through.

It’s like my pain and my darkness

have become one with me

but I have become so good at hiding it

even I sometimes forget the suffering in me.

I am broken, I am scarred

I am so imperfect in my anger

that I hold onto it so much

I even lash out at strangers

even the people closest to me,

they try so hard to understand

but they underestimate my misery

and how its company holds my hand.

I feel like such a failure

a resentful fire burns in my soul

my emotions are my enemy

and they are something I cant control.

To feel so alone and so misunderstood

it creates an emptiness in your heart and soul

whilst you brain fights the evil with good.

See I’m not a perfect person,

I admit my wrongdoings,

attempt to repent my sins,

but when I was born it was too late;

the trauma had already began.

I cant blame everyone for my flaws

not all the time at least,

because underneath this masquerade

is Beauty and the Beast.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,

they live in complicated harmony

battle with themselves

and fight others constantly

pushing people away

even the ones that mean the most

they never gave up on their dreams for me

even when my body was playing host.

I wake up most days

not sure of who I am,

I don’t think I’ve ever known,

I could never understand.

So you see its hard for me to open up,

to explain my own fucking mind,

when it feels like a long time ago

I left a part of me behind.

To never feel like you belong

you believe your own head

when it says to you you’re worthless

and that you’re better off dead

trust me I have fucking tried,

but for some unknown reason

I sit here still alive.

Even after every bad thing

that has happened to me

I believe everything happens for a reason –

maybe my life is just meant to be.

 

 

Sink Back Into The Ocean…

This is a monologue I stole from the end of the last episode/season of The Affair which resonated with me so much I just had to share it.

“What in God’s name do you think you can do to me that I haven’t done to myself a million times? I have been in pain my entire life. And maybe that’s what makes people think that I’m weak. And maybe that makes people treat me like some sort of receptacle for all their grief and rage and disappointment, but I am fucking sick of it.”

“I just want to live a different life,” she says. “I want to live a different story. I’m still young. I can be someone else. Someone who deserves love. Someone who can be happy.”

I always make the same mistakes…

Not too long ago, my mum said to me “The only person you can rely on is yourself.” And oh my god was she right… (Just don’t tell her that). It has stuck with me ever since, because people will inevitably let you down. The thing is, is it their wronging or yours? Maybe (for arguments sake) if we didn’t have such high expectations then we wouldn’t get so disappointed, right? I have to admit I do have high expectations but I think maybe the reason for this is that I expect from others what I would do for them. Surely that doesn’t make me a bad/needy/neurotic person? Sometimes it really feels that way though.

Up until fairly recently I pretty much depended on other people to define me. I surrounded myself with anyone and everyone because I was terrified of what would happen to me and my own head if I was alone for too long. But the thing is, the people I surrounded myself with were not very nice people at all, in fact they were really toxic and narcissistic and basically drained the life out of me. I’m not saying I am perfect by any means (pretty sure I’ve said this a thousand times) but I think I at least try to acknowledge my mistakes and attempt to make amends with the people I have hurt or done wrong by. Granted, it has taken me a while to realise my problems but hey we live and learn right?

It took me a long time to accept and move on from all the bad stuff that happened to me and all the shit people put me through. It took me even longer to accept that this was in fact a blessing which had made me stronger and wiser and (I would like to think) a slightly better person.

In a perfect world, yes. But unfortunately the world we live in isn’t perfect and shit happens. ALL THE TIME.

It’s heartbreaking though when you really love or care for someone though and they just let you down. How much disappointment can one take before saying enough is enough? Does it make you a weak person for wanting to forgive people? Or does it actually in fact make you that much stronger and wiser because of all the pain and suffering your heart is willing to take? Forgiveness feels like a heavy burden to bear and it may not always be easy, but you have to let things go, sooner or later, one way or another, otherwise you will just hold onto the heartache for the rest of your life and for what? It’s a form of self harm because the only person you are truly hurting is yourself.

So be kind to yourself, love yourself more than anyone else and let that shit go. #sorrynotsorry

Demons

They always come to me

first thing, when I wake

even when I sleep and dream

My heart and soul they take.

They haunt me in daylight

They taunt me in the dark

Constantly clawing at my mind

And tearing it a part.

My Demons they always find me

no matter where I go

I’m restricted by these chains, bound by this pain

And my demons seem to follow.

They tell me I’m not good enough

As I try to right my wrongs

They tell me I should just give up

And that I don’t belong.

I live in a war zone

In the depths of my own head

Where living doesn’t feel like an option

And that I am just better off dead.

Cos no matter where I go

My Demons seem to follow.

Every Day Distractions

This is something I wrote at university and it was inspired by Geraldine Kim’s “Povel”. The concept is that the writing combines poetry in the form of a novel whilst using total inspiration from ones stream of consciousness.  Povel is, in the author’s own words: “a successful merging between confessional verse poetry and the novel”.

Allen Ginsberg wrote the incredible “Howl” thinking nobody would ever read it but that’s what made it so beautiful; it was from the heart. This was probably one of the most honest and raw pieces of writing I have ever done. Just be warned that this isn’t for the faint-hearted.

I hope you like it.

 

Every Day Distractions

Keep a journal for a week. I’m so angry all of the time. Sweaty fat men on trains fuck off. See ex boyfriend. I shake and cry. I’m so tired of waiting. He seems so happy it makes me angry. Three vodka and lemonades later… he still looks happy. I hate him. I hate her. I hate myself. I eat homemade curry. I drive to Leighton Buzzard and get fucked up on rum, whisky, beer, ketamine and MDMA. I have an out of body experience in a dark nightclub. Flashing lights may cause epilepsy. Strange man with dreads takes photo. Flashing lights may cause epilepsy. I come out of my hole. Hard-tek, techno and bass. I don’t want to leave. I sniff some more and float in space. I stole my mums credit card and took more money out. “One cheeseburger, two double cheeseburgers, Mexican chicken meal with a diet coke, a medium normal coke and a garlic and herb chicken wrap.” We laugh at the fat spotty boy behind the window. I’m too wired to sleep and she won’t stop snoring. I lay awake and think of him.

I drive her to work in the pissing rain. I have my iPod and my jacket back, I still can’t sleep. I go to see another boy. He makes me tea and cuddles me in bed. We have a debate about Banksy. We watch Freaky Friday. I hope I don’t end up like Lindsay Lohan. I wouldn’t mind being famous. I still haven’t slept. I sniff more white powder. We kiss. I drink coffee and chat about shit for over an hour. I haven’t eaten. I drive home and he talks dirty to me. I kiss my Nan on the cheek. I own up to the stolen credit card. I go to work. We eat Chinese takeaway. I drink two glasses of red wine. I sniff some more. We watch crap Saturday night TV. Fuck celebrities. Fuck the jungle. Fuck everything. I lay in bed and we talk again. “I love your nipples; I want to be inside of you.” I love him. I hate him. I want to fuck him. I sleep into oblivion.

I am confused. I eat a bagel. I wash my hair. I am human again. I watch One Tree Hill to avoid doing work. I go to Tesco Express. “Mate, do you have any sliced ham? You know, like for sandwiches?” I hate ironing. I love my mum. My mum wants to get high. We eat roast lamb like a normal functioning family. I am fat. I stare at my phone. It gets dark by four o’clock. I regret the decisions I have made. Why can’t I be happy-go-lucky? “Bye. Love you. Take care. See you soon.” Me and my mum fight over clothes. I get high. I touch myself and think of him. He makes me sad and I feel let down. My heart aches as I fall asleep.

I wish I were rich. We shop at Primark. I buy leather hot pants in order to seduce him. “Have a nice day.” I eat the free food samples at Costco. I moan in the car to my mum. I bite my cheek and taste blood. My body aches.”Thinking of you”. “You too.” Fucking cunt. I’m not sure if I believe in true love anymore. I wish I could write. It won’t stop raining. Life after death. I get excited when I order new books from Amazon. My mum makes the best spag bol. The red wine goes straight to my head. The consequences of garlic bread “The morning after”. I consider drowning myself in the bath. The brandy burns my nose. I want to set myself on fire. I cry myself to sleep.

Creaky bedroom door wakes me, startled. “Time to wake up.” I hate Tuesdays. People on the Met Line reading “Broadshits and Tablies”. The lecturer is late. That red haired bitch needs to pipe down. We take a walk with the planes and talk about our feelings. I am lost in his touch, his scent , his kiss. Bang the mash, bangers and mash. Money can buy you happiness. The dinner table is always the centre of bad jokes. The distant crackling of fireworks still fills the November sky. “What’s more important? Who we become or how we become it?” I wait in vain.

Tea is the juice of Jesus. I feel like slamming my head repeatedly into my laptop. I can’t write any fucking more. I want a bucket of coffee. I find a red thread in my scrambled eggs at lunch; a red thread symbolises soul mates. I wonder if I am my own soul mate. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. All work and no play, makes me a very dull girl. I’m gagging for it. How many chances do we get before fucking it up is no longer an option? Being a woman is a good excuse to binge on chocolate. Cafe de Flore. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

I need some fucking inspiration. I stereotype myself so I feel like I belong. T.F.I.F. Deadlines should be called Deadlives because that’s what we’ll be before the new year. Black Books and Quality Street distract me from my writer’s block. I can’t stop eating out of boredom. I am restless, I need a rest. I get high and listen to Fat Freddy’s Drop and High Contrast. A diet of carbohydrates and red wine is all the vitamins you need. My new books from Amazon arrive seven o’clock at night. Late night thrills on a Thursday. The weekend starts now. “Did you just spark up?” It all started with a Big Bang. We always pretend to know more than we actually do. Thanks to Facebook I catch up with old friends from ten years ago. Oh to be twelve again. The devil makes work for idle hands…

 

 

 

Vast, empty, and infinite.

Today has been one of those awful days where I just can’t seem to shift my “bad mood”. For some reason I woke up incredibly grumpy and I just don’t know why. This is unfortunately one of the MANY things people with BPD suffer with. So yeah, not knowing why you’re in a bad mood sucks, sure. But the worst part? The worst part is STILL having to EXPLAIN yourself to close family members. They just keep on asking “What’s wrong?” or “Why are you in a bad mood?” or “What’s happened to make you feel like this?” I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, OKAY? If I did I would obviously say something, but I don’t. And it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened either. IT happens A LOT. And it’s EXHAUSTING.

Imagine having this incredibly overwhelming feeling in your chest, in the pit of your stomach and a lump in your throat. And the continuous inner monologue of ALL of the voices in your head telling you that “you’re not good enough”, “you’re not trying hard enough”, “everyone thinks you’re a failure”, “nobody will ever understand you”, “everyone hates you” “you’re a freak”, “you have so much to do today and you can’t even get out of bed, you’re a mess”. As I write this, I am sobbing at the sheer emotional pain of it all. I am in constant fear and I am forevermore at war with myself. Most of which takes part in my own head because I can’t fathom why I am the way I am, let alone try to explain this to anyone else.

I am suffocating with infinite sadness and yet I am terrified for asking for help because people just don’t understand. All I want is for love, understanding and a bit of compassion, but that seems all too much to ask, even from my own family. I can hear my mum in my head now saying “But I thought you were getting better? I thought you were feeling better?”. Like even my recovery or my therapy STILL IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Yes, I was feeling okay, and have been “coping.” But today I am just not doing so well. I have to accept it so why can’t anybody else learn to? Or if not, just leave me be. Leave me alone and I will come to you if I need you.

Basically, It’s hard enough having to deal with yourself as it is, let alone trying to help others “deal” with you. At the end of the day, I am on a journey to making myself better. And I am trying my god damn hardest to do that. And if that’s still not good enough? Well then that’s your problem, not mine.