The Original Runaway Heart

I don't remember the last time I ate properly. I haven't had a proper meal in days... and it's not that I don't have food at home, or the means to cook it.... I do, but I can't be bothered. It's not that I'm deliberately trying to starve myself again, I just don't have the energy to take care of myself anymore. I'm not okay. My hair is caked in grease, and while I've taken to having a lot of bubble baths lately, I just sit in the water, spacing out at the wall, not really properly caring for myself. I don't remember the last time I ran a brush through my hair, besides today when my son offered to brush my hair for me to try to help me feel beautiful again. I wake up each morning, stomach rumbling and chewing on itself, my body feels heavy, as if it too has given up. Everything aches. My shoulders feel as if they've been carying the weight of the world on them, my throat feels coarse and dry like sandpaper and it hurts to breathe. ...

There's a lot of things that Doctors and mental health care professionals won't tell you about Borderline Personality Disoder... There's a lot of stigma, and a lot of stereotype, as well as horrible, heartbreaking amount of ignorance. I can't speak for everyone, but I will speak for myself, from my experiences with this misunderstood mental illness. SO many people assume that BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) is the band-aid diagnosis, that if a Psychiatrist runs a series of evaluations, and can't come to a full diagnosis of a clearly mentally ill patient, they'll just slap the good ol' BPD label on their chart.  In my experience, that couldn't be farther from the truth. I knew something was... unique about me, even in my youth. I knew that I reacted to stress faster, and more intense than my peers, I felt emotions on such an intense high, or I went so numb that I felt nothing at all. I was different, out of place... I felt so alien. I had...

There are a million thoughts going through my mind right now... What did I do? Was I oblivious to pushing him away? Were there signs I was ignoring before this point? I don't get it... How can you go from being happy, bubbly and interested in someone, so emotionally invested, so vulnerable to this person... to not feeling anything for them anymore? Walls are up, and suddenly they've become a stranger, to the point where you ask yourself "did I ever really know this person?" Dating with BPD is really difficult, I tend to emotionally invest early on in the first few stages of the relationship. We slept together on the second date, which happened to be the second time we met in person, he asked me to be his girlfriend... Now, by that I assumed he meant that he wanted a serious realtionship... apparently we were just "dating" which just doesn't register to me whatsoever... I was so in love with him, I was so invested in this being long term... I envisi...

" Everything that you thought I would be, is falling apart right in front of you. " I got so used to having him in my life, he was the pillar of strength during some of my darkest days, the voice of reason when impulses were at an all-time high, or when my self-doubt attempted to swallow me whole. He was the arms of security, safety... he was the beautiful band-aids to artistically cover all my scars. He was everything, and now I don't know how to exist around him... not like this. We were in orbit, and slowly drifted apart, and now I feel like I'm drifting off, seeing him from afar, but too far from my reach. It's over. Cue Linkin Park's "Numb", it's actually been in my head for the last 72 hours since we broke up. I've been playing sad songs, crying uncontrollably, curled into the fetal position, snot dripping down my nose, my eyes so swollen that my vision is blurry, and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Stupid elephant,...

Typically I write in this blog with poetry and a lot of bizarre metaphors to express the feelings of being mentally ill and my struggles to grasp reality. This time, I'm going to put as much realism into this as I can, because some serious changes are about to come. I am learning the art of confidence, I am learning to take better care of myself, I am actually in therapy now! My therapist teaches DBT, a much need for myself to get better. I have been talking online to a really inspiration woman who does online affiliate marketing and makes DAMN good money doing it, and I'm so pumped up to be joining her team soon! I'm just waiting on my tax return so I can pay for my start-up fees. I am about to start an acne care program from an AMAZING company called "Riversol" here in Canada that specializes in skin care for those like me who struggle with persistent adult acne and Rosacea as well as hyper-pigmentation and Eczema. Getting my skin back to a healthy level...

"This is Ground Control to Major Tom You've really made the grade And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare" I feel that there is going to be a major communication error about to take place very, very soon. You see, progress is finally being made after several years of feeling abandoned and stuck in one place. We've finally got movement and contact, I am no longer drifting in space entirely alone. Something is out there and it wants to help. "for here, am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world. Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do." The communication error would be that I simply do not know how to translate without the means of poetry or my bizarre metaphors, and perhaps I should try, but maybe not here? Maybe somewhere... fresh. A new ground if I may. See, I have to somehow put into simple words how my mind is uniquely wired and how I am tormented by the operating system...

I'm trapped in this world Lonely and fading Heart broke and waiting For you to come We are stuck in this world That's not meant for me For me There is an eerie comfort to this, the heavy air... the darkness that closes in on me, threatening to swallow me whole. This is life now, this is all that I know. The decay and rot of my brain, memories that have long ago lost meaning, feelings that are nothing more than cobwebs on the bricks to this cell, this dark prison that is mental illness. I have learned to simply just exist inside of this, to accept the shadows in the corner of the room, the whispering voices... the hateful, ugly things that they say under their breaths, I have told myself long ago to pay them no attention. Always echoing the same things, always lingering in those shadows, creeping forward but never showing itself to the full extent. It exists and that is all. Every so often sunlight manages to slip into this cell, warm and inviting, encouraging life inside th...