The Old Dirt Road


I went out walking down that old, curving dirt road.

A special place where not too many travel & the sun barely peeks through the woods.

The trees are tall & stately, soldiers guarding the way to a treasure.

At the end of the road lies a meadow, but for now I just walk & hum with nature.

The grasses & ferns grow to the roadside, little animals scurry along,

the little birds are chirping & singing so I join in their sunny song.

The air smells so sweet, it must be the flowers that grow

in the patches of sun allowed in by the soldiers.

Flowers of white, yellow & red, over there some are blue!

My voice lifts higher with the birds as I keep walking through.

As I round a familiar bend in the road the soldiers start to part & soon

a meadow emerges. A meadow of wonders & full of delight.

A place I’ve spent many a day, a night & more.

Grasses og green, the shades too numerous to count & flowers

cover the area, their colors seem to shout. But the best things to see,

my favorite above all, are the hundreds of butterflies flitting &

flying, like delicate lace, never seeming to fall.

A small creek comes through, just big enough to matter. Winding its way

over rocks & providing a cool drink, the creek finishes the song, now complete.

I open my bag to take out my throw, then make a little place for me to rest.

I pull out my journals, next my pens & start to write my stories again.

For hours I write, nature my inspiration but soon time is up, I must end my excursion.

I pack it all up & off I go, back up that old dirt road to everyday life,

the one we all know.





My thoughts churn as reality seeps in. Has my life been a lie, am I not who I am? I seek and search and search some more, but it’s nowhere to be found, not anywhere. What is this mystery in my life that I seek? It’s my identity, I don’t have one, I think.

I search for pieces and will occasionally find a tiny bit of me, but never enough for identity. The darkness and evils from my younger life, have robbed me from having peace, being a mother, a wife. Emptiness and despair fill my days, a gaping hole that leaves me seeking harm on some days. Try to imagine knowing nothing of yourself, not knowing what you like, what you hate, what you can do to escape.

I love you today, I hate you tomorrow, then pushing you away creates all my sorrow. Those are the ways my thought patterns work, due to not having a solid base or self-worth. A part of my mind says, “Reach for the stars,” while my emotions make clear all of their scars. I can’t make a commitment, I won’t see it through. Chances are great, my emotions I’ll have to subdue.

Fucked up? Yes. Indeed, I am, I’m a mess, a mental case of high level and empty as hell. Does this mean I’m dangerous to others or self? I can’t hurt anyone, except for myself. So the thoughts continue to churn and churn, as my emotional state flares and starts to burn. I must be under water, I must be in the sea, I have no breath, absolutely no air in me. This is the panic that always sets in when my minds spins too fast and the fears begin.

I sit up straight, gasping for breath, feeling like a fish that’s been brought up from the depths. I suffer with an illness that no one can see, they think I should be fine and act normally. I barely function, I’m surprised I can live, this much pain should take my spirit out of its shell, it hurts so much inside, even the physical pain is more than I could tell.

I’m not the woman who I used to be, I used to know me, I thought I had an identity. That girl was so fun, so happy, so flirty, she shined like a beacon, and hardly ever worried. But reality reared its head and truth became known, that person just vanished, now I’m empty and alone.

I know my husband resents me, he misses the old me, but was she imagination, all in my mind? Tell me. I long for the days I could laugh without a care, now when I laugh I hear the bitterness in there. Pieces of me, oh where can you be? I need you here, come back to complete me. I won’t stop seeking, I’ll crawl if I must, this identity of mine, I’ll find it…trust.o t

BPD & Life


The struggle of living with borderline personality disorder can get very real some days. As if it isn’t enough to struggle with feeling empty, having no identity, feeling a need to harm yourself and having extreme fear of abandonment, BPD almost always has other mental illnesses co-existing with it. For me it’s PTSD, severe anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder with psychosis.

The mind is an amazing thing and can do things beyond imagination. Unfortunately, when dealing with mental illness it can also be destructive. It can become so overwhelmed by the racing thoughts and emotions that it can cause the body to break down. It is not uncommon to have someone with BPD have an assortment of physical ailments. In my case I live with quite a few ailments, including chronic pain syndrome, fibromyalgia, migraines and non-epileptic psychogenic seizures.

I am a believer that the harsh medications required to help control the psychosis, overwhelming emotions and depression help in the breaking down of the physical body. It’s a catch-22, really, since you can’t function in the most basic of ways without the meds, but the meds make you ill. So what can be done about it?

Since 2011, I have been in therapy and groups learning skills to cope with thoughts and emotions. I still attend therapy, see a social worker and attend a Dialetical Behavior Therapy group, which is and intensive therapy plan to give a person very strong skills to better regulate their emotions and thoughts. I am still on all my meds but I have been able to cut back on the frequency of my anxiety med, which is a benzodiazepine.

I have hope for the future. I may never be rid of my mental illness but I will see my skills progress to a point where I don’t need so much medication. I have already overcome obstacles I thought not possible, even to where I am putting some of my writing on a public site. My childhood traumas don’t get to control my life any longer. I am just an average person and being willing to work toward a recovery has been showing success. This is true for anyone. Don’t settle any old thing life hands out. You have the power and ability to change your reality.

To quote one of my professors, “You can do it, SO DO IT!” =}

Bitterness & Wilting


From the darkness she came, awakened by a warmth, a love like the sun, taking the tiny seed of hope from within her, coaxing it to life. The seed began to sprout as he continued to shine, to bring her comfort and security as soft as a rain shower, slowly falling down.

It took no time at all for her to feel safe in the security of his rain and shine, so she blossomed, a bloom unlike any she had put off in her lifetime. She was bright, beaming and lush for all to see, and ready to be shared with the sun times three. His three mini-suns also shone pure and true, now her life was complete, she was blessed now after her time in the darkness.

As is wont to happen with beautiful blooms, sickness set in, diseases one after the other ravaged her. Through the loss of his beautiful bloom to a wilted, lesser bloom, the sun became bitter, his light began to fade.

As his bitterness grew and her sickness increased, his light darkened and her bloom wilted more. He turned on her, his bitterness so great that he could only blame her. With the blame she faded, becoming so small that, in truth, she was almost nothing at all.

The sun didn’t want such a ruined bloom, so he tried to send her away but her roots were just hibernating, she was not so quick to give up on the return of her sun. The worst kind of bitterness came upon him, his became a darkness more fierce than all she had live through before.

His words became weapons, darts formed to maim, to ruin, destroy, and work they did, for her roots all but died. Then two hours later he took her for a ride, a ride to a place where it all would end, along with her life for no longer would she be a bloom or a wife.

Later, left alone in the dark she mourned and she cried, her world had ended and no longer would she bloom, no never, not at all. All day and all night she was dying a slow death, the sun that had brought her to life had set her aside.

Somehow, someway, her pain and anguish pierced through the bitterness and to the sun’s heart. Out came his confessions that nearly destroyed her more than all of her time in the dark. But through his words she saw one tiny light, one little beam that may bring her back, for she had saved a seed from her bloom deep down in her heart.

“Would he ever shine again,” she wondered, but she didn’t know, so she would hold that seed safe so if he ever shone again, she would bloom and grow. His heart began healing, warmth once more began to fill her soul, her seed could be planted and they would watch it grow.

Her roots started to spread as his light began to shine more brightly, it wasn’t long and the roots grew up into little sprouts, seeing her growth brought more life to the sun and caused him to realize his effect on her. One day she bloomed, like coming out of a fog, his bloom had come back, lush and bright, emotionally raw but in his light she would heal.

What they both realized as the healing continued was how much they needed one another, she needed his light to keep a bright bloom, but he could not shine if she wilted, their lives were intertwined. This is what happens as we go through our lives, we bond with the one who will enrich us and help us grow inside.

The sun and bloom have a love some may call rare, we say indeed it is, it got us to hell and back, now we are brighter and stronger, better than ever before, a love beyond compare.



He came out from the back room and appeared to be sad, he leaned his body against my legs,

choosing me to be his mom.

My heart was captured, the bond instant, we changed his name to Damien

to give him a new life, free from maltreat.

His chocolate eyes would gaze, his love evident and pure, always my greatest protector,

making certain all was secure.

Never would he leave me, his place was in my chair, almost never would I sit there,

without him also being there.

The day of his loss rips my heart apart, but in those last few hours he laid with me

and I held him as he left this life for his new start.

I can picture him now, young forever, running through the grass and pouncing with bunnies,

also stalking the birds as if so clever.

Maybe there in heaven my loved ones see him now. Perhaps he’s Grandpa’s companion,

in that paradise he lives in…somehow.

I like to think that he remembers me, much as I’ll always remember him, my sweet, loving

Damien dog, I’m alive because of him.

RIP Momma’s puppy! Love you forever!

What A Woman


A True Struggle With BPD

She greets you with a smile…

Her makeup  is flawless, lips perfectly curved, excitement to see you exudes from her.

“She is so happy,” they think, “what a woman!”

At every event she is quick to help, she always knows what comes next,

she has a list to guide them all in what to do.

“She has it all together,” they think, “what a woman!”

Sunday, at church, she hugs each one she sees,

she listens to the ails and prayer requests one and all, then goes to the front and sings.

“Doing God’s work,” they think, “what a woman!”

At home she takes off the perfect mask, she wishes someone would help her,

who will be here, who will pray for her?

What a woman, she thinks as she draws the razor across her skin,

what a woman, indeed.

I hide behind masks, constantly seeing to the needs of others.

Can’t they hear my screams? I’m drowning! I’m dying!

It’s just a matter of time and I’ll be gone. Won’t someone see it’s just a mask?

I’m ill, I’m not ok, but due to this illness I’m not able to say!

I do want your help but I cannot ask. Please come see me, see into my eyes, into my heart.

This razor will only be happy with skin for so long, one day soon…



The flames are burning brightly, but they hide behind dull eyes.

You’ll never see the passion, her perfect mask is a disguise.

As the wind blows across her face it messes up her chestnut hair.

It teases and tangles it all around, much like the chaos inside of her.

She laughs up to the sky, knowing the day will soon bring rain.

Her blue eyes now shine so brightly, for this coming storm she cannot wait.

The lightning will soon strike her, the thunder will send her flying,

into that world of make-believe, where all the creatures fly.

The tickle of her wings growing is almost too wonderful to bear,

for soon she will be safe from all who dwell down there.

No longer will they hurt her, no longer will she care,

she has earned her wings, this angel in the air.