Day 31:

Goodbye:

So, here it is, the final day. What better way to end than on my son's 18th birthday. A milestone for him and me too. He has become an adult and maybe one day, I will become one too!! 

It's been quite a "journey" for me, a mixture of feelings and emotions. Fear mostly! Fear of being judged or not saying the right thing, the usual craziness inside my head.

I hope I have helped a few people to understand what BPD is and how it affects the lives of people like myself. How it cripples you, controls you and becomes who you are.

I started to write when I found out it was BPD awareness month. It was like my mind gave me "permission" to do it. That's the only way I can describe it. There was a purpose behind it, a valid reason if you like. I was still scared of being judged but my need to tell people about it, outweighed that. I hope that people will not be too quick to judge other people who may be a little bit different. Who may not fit in or have some kind of strange quirk or odd behaviour. No-one knows their back story. No-one knows what they have been through and indeed will never know unless you give them a bit of your time or simply a kind word. Be aware of someone else's pain. HEAR WHAT THEY'RE NOT SAYING!

Thank you to the people that have read my posts and have liked or commented on them. Especially the people I have mentioned before:

Heather Johns, Rosina Bailey, Denise Drammis, Ian Johns, Jeanette Hart, Mike Evans and Julie Nogales ( day 30) . I have also had some kind words from a few family members that I am not usually in touch with. Thank you to them too. Of course, my children deserve the most thanks. For being there, seeing it first hand, but loving me regardless. No doubt I will continue to struggle with life but I will still try to fight on. I hope I will be brave enough to comment on other people's posts sometimes or just say hello. Maybe i will fade back into obscurity, who knows.........

Dear Therapist.

Hear what I’m not saying, know when I’m not playing

Listen to my heartbeat, I’m sitting in the hot seat

Sense my mood when talking, see the steps I’m walking

Look beneath my eyes, don’t listen to the lies

Feel my inner weakness, overlook the meekness

See beyond the mask, this is all I ask.

Inside....

There is a place lies deep within, where I don’t wish to go 

Where pain resides with memories, that I don’t wish to know

A place so deep inside myself, I don’t know where it’s hidden

It’s somewhere buried under lies and things that are forbidden

I’ll keep it there where I am safe, not acknowledge it’s existence

Keep it buried from myself and fight on with persistence

Mandela

With perseverance and conviction

You fought against the friction

You were placed into a cage

To contain that power and rage....

Your life was changed forever with your freedom being stopped

But they couldn’t tame your character and your hope was never dropped

With forgiveness in your heart and sheer determination

You had twenty seven years to rely on rumination

Were you ever tempted to live up to your own name?

To be a troublemaker or to hang your head in shame?

Did you ever think about your wasted days inside?

Or did your sense of justice make you swell with human pride?

I wish that I had been there to make your burden lighter

You truly were a warrior and a freedom fighter

Mayfly

I'm reminded of a poem that I read so long ago
It gave me information that I really didn't know
It told the thrilling story called "The day of the mayfly"
It simply stated just one line: Eat, sleep, shag, die!

For Shay....

My son, you never met him
You never saw his face
You didn't see his laughter
 But you've stepped into his place

My son, you didn't know him
He would have been so proud
I would have let you touch him
If I had been allowed

You know you look just like him
Your heart is made from love
I know he's looking down my son
He sees you from above

Beef

She killed him in the hallway

Her tiny frame she used

Tired of all his nonsense

And being so abused

He’d come home for his dinner

The meat defrosting on the side

He’d started asking questions

And once again, she’d lied

The coolness of the winter

Stopped the meat from getting soft

He was taking off his overcoat

When she held the meat aloft

Twenty years of torture

They had never crossed a bridge

She slowly bent to pick it up

And placed it back into the fridge!

Childhood

When chaos reigned and times were hard

I’d visit my special place

Cocooned by trees and hanging vines

With spider webs of lace

The peace and silence hurt my ears

But still helped me to think

Sat on grass and broken sticks

While sipping on a drink

I felt so safe and comforted

By the quiet and the calm

Each bush and piece of shrubbery

Was holding tight my arm

This place kept me from falling

Into a pit of great despair

My seat upon the dirty floor

A relaxing easy chair

Hidden from the outside world

My thoughts would be more clear

Safe in Mother Nature’s womb

Allowed to shed a tear

I wish I had that place again

To go to every day

But it is back in childhood

And much too far away

Dementia

I walked into the kitchen so many years ago

And there upon the lino was porridge oats, like snow

Arranged around the worktop, pushed firm against the wall

The kettle, cups and saucers, like soldiers standing tall

My father washing cutlery in a sink of boiling pans

Too hot for him to handle so he couldn’t use his hands

He fished each one out slowly with the end of slatted spoon

And lined them up so neatly to join the rest of the platoon

He then had sprinkled porridge around the edges of the floor

And when I asked him why, he said “ I was in the war”

The View

Her view was blocked by washing

Piled high up on a chair

She couldn’t see behind it

And didn’t know what could be there

She thought it may be earrings

Or the money that she’d lost

Or was it those old work boots

That she’d taken off and tossed?

It could be a pack of biscuits

Or an empty can of beans

The scarf she had been looking for

Or that dirty pair of jeans

She struggled to see round it

So she knew it must be moved

She needed to see behind there

So her theories could be proved

She carefully started digging

And came across a shelf!

The more she moved the washing

The more she could see herself!

“That was where the mirror went”

She thought inside her head

“I thought it fell down from the wall

And lodged behind the bed”

A Letter...

A letter starts with Dear...whoever
And often talks about the weather
It mentions Uncle Jim or Dad
And moans a lot about someone bad
This one is written to myself
With wishes for better mental health
Asking if I knew a time
When everything was just fine..
What was the trigger that sent me mad
Being told that I was bad?
I'd write and say, "It's not your fault"
I keep opening wounds and adding salt
I'd write and offer myself a friend
Who'd hold my heart and help it mend
I'd ask myself to please be kind
In dealing with my irrational mind

When we were young....

Cigarettes were cheap as chips, they came in packs of five
At school they gave us warmish milk, now it's five alive
Our sweets were bagged up by the ounce, bon bons and sugar mice
Instead of playing Mario, we simply rolled a dice
We wore our siblings hand-me-downs and bathed just once a week
Now if you wear the wrong thing, you are regarded as a freak
We dowsed ourselves in smells of Brut, as Henry Cooper said
And ate lots of carbohydrates and we revelled in white bread!
We went to town on Saturdays, watched a movie for the crack
But instead of paying entry, we just sneaked in round the back
Now you need a TV with surround sound booming out
And fifty million DVD's with speakers all about!
Why can't we be contented with the simple things in life
Be happy with our fortune and not covet thy neighbours wife!

For Tracy..

Camera poised, she lights up the dark
breathing life into the city streets
She stops a moment from running away
With a single click, time stands still.
Her camera is a sketchbook
And she is but a messenger,
Relaying moments she has captured.
She photographs people's souls
And finds beauty in concrete...