the clearing

Dredging a river of emotions

There is a dirty river in my mind
Filled with silt composed of nasty things
Imposed guilt, self hatred, and upsetting memories
To free my emotions I must dredge that river

I must clear the toxins from it by dealing with my past
I must bring up the muck a little at a time
For the silt took many years to accumulate
It is impossible to deal with all at once

So I must concentrate on an issue at a time
Self-hatred has eased a bit through life experiences
However dealing with memories is most difficult
I chose to dissociate myself from them
Now I must admit that they are fully mine
And that I must deal with them at this time

Then my emotions will have had time to recover
I will no longer spend my life an emotional numbness
Unable to express what others express so freelyThe full river of emotions will once again become mine

em xxx

emotions and mixed up feeling

I hate to show my feeling to everyone because it hurts so much. My feelings are all messed up and i just stopped caring. I just feel like giving up on the easiest things in life. Well i am at the point of just giving up. But my friends are holding me back. It kills me inside knowing that they know about what is going on in my head. The feelings inside are like HELL. Its inside ME and all I want to do is to kill it.
It seems that my child and husband is the only thing really keeping me going
I didn't trust myself to be alone. I keep weighing the pros and cons, and I know I'm probably too chicken to do it, but I can't fantasizing these days about it... and that scares me..
I sleep through half of the day, but when I get up, I don't feel rested. I still feel tired, and I don't know what to do first, or where to start. I'm not interested in "doing" anything. I have to "force" myself to do anything. I have no desires, except to eat
Food has no taste. My house is getting messy again. My words don't come when I'm trying to talk to someone. I sound like I'm in grade school when I speak. My vocabulary sounds like a second grader. Really.
At least my loving husband is being very patient with me. Thank God.
I just want to get better, but things I've tried just don't work. I find it hard to do any house work anymore, because I cry uncontrollably over nothing, just like a big baby! I hate that, but I CAN'T help it.
its like this one line from a limp bizkit song- "its just one of those days that i dont wanna wake up, everythings f####d, " except that its not "just one of those days"- its each and every day.

may art work and poem

My C.P.N asked me to do this pieces of work and poem . what ya think ? I found it hard than i though. i could not draw the stuff so i had to photo copy it in stead. talking is so easy and it over and done with no mark left. but doing this its open for every one to see. i also did a poem to go with it. but it left me feeling so low and in a little distress. iam writing this just to get it of my chest to see if it helps.

my childhood

This young girl kept from sight

crying into the middle of the night

she fears that others will sense the shame

but was this girl really too blame?

This little girl who was full of belief

could not from him seem to find relief

she feels so dirty with her clothes which are tore

when she is being flung on the bedroom floor

This broken child lost her innocence

At a very young age through a man’s deliberate rage.

I tried to get away from this.

I found a friend who I could trust

Then asked me to stay one night.

I said yes with delight.

But that night was so sad

The man who made me so so mad.

He tortured me with no care.

And told me not to share.

I got it at home as well with a friend

Will this torcher ever end?

I tried to tell my mum one-day.

Then to my surprise

She said now way.

While i was crying silent tears

My Nan was tucking into some beers

Why would no one come to my aid

day after day my happiness would fade

this went on for so so long

No one thought that this was wrong

this little girl that no one could save

she longed for her peaceful happy days.

thanks for taking the time out to read my work.

Em xxx

welcome to my world

If reading this gets confusing or starts to give you a headache then I will have made my point. The point of the way this is written is to try to give the reader an active sense of what it feels like to live within the confines of borderline dilemma.

If you are borderline, you may relate, and this may help you to understand that you are not the "only one" who experiences the way that you feel. If you are a non-borderline perhaps this will serve to give you a peak inside of what the borderline in your life is living through.

Rage from nowhere, attached to nothing.... floating-freely from deep within me and ready in an instant to spew forth in what seem like instaneously-effortless bursts of unbridled entitlement to give me a sense of power amidst the feelings of helplessness that are my every waking moment. If I am helpless you are too powerful, no, I will be powerful. I will take your power away so you can be helpless. I don't do helpless. I am power. I must have the power. We can't both have the power. I want what is mine. You are mine right? I am not yours though, I cannot be any-body's because I am not even my own. I gave myself to you. We are each other right? I mean, what's the difference?

Fear strikes me from all corners of my being. What, what is it that I am not seeing? Is not what I perceive what is really real? Why is it that I am the only one who sees what I see, just the way that I do? What does this mean? Surely this is what is wrong with the world right? I mean it can't be my problem. I am not afraid. I am not scared or weak or vulnerable. I need you..... NO!! ....I am strong and I don't need you. If you let me need you I won't want you anymore. And if you say I can't have you then I've got to have you. If you let me have you then I don't want you anymore. I want you when you don't want me and I need you when you won't help me. It is the biting and the pain of this cold distance that I know that somehow is familiar and is the feeling that I need to give me the illusion of safety. If I were truly safe I'd be exposed and not safe at all. Get away by coming closer and come closer by getting away. I am exposed most when I hide and hidden when I try to be who I think I am.

Feeling alone, again, abandoned as always, alone, again. I am everyone and everyone is me. Who am I again? Oh yea, that person, and that person, and what this person, and this person, want. Where does that leave me when I am alone? Who am I then? Do I cease to exist if I am not in the company of someone off of whom I can bounce my existence and from whom all of my validation must come?

What is wrong with the world? Why can't they see my pain? Don't they know how incredibly much I hurt? Can't they see that I need them to hold some of this pain for me, validate it, and take it away; for my soul runneth over with agony. Why should I have to bear my own agony? It is not my fault. I didn't do this to me. I didn't choose to hurt like this. I am beside myself with all of this pain and anger and grief as is an infant whose mother is angry with him or her. What do I do with that angry face? It is not acceptance, it is rejecting me.....but I NEED it.....what am I to do? I don't know what to do so I put it beside me. Whatever it is, I leave it to sit there....and it builds over the course of a lifetime. It builds and it always hurts. It hurts even when I don't feel it at all. I need to get what I need. I'll die if I don't. I'll just die. I am dying to live and in my attempts to live I die.

And so I have remained trapped inside this isolated, and insulated place of youth stunted in my emotional growth. I am a victim. It is not my fault. I hurt and I hurt and I hurt. Why don't you care? Why don't you care? Make it go away. Make it stop, just love me from over there. Love me, but don't you dare really care. It would hurt too much if you were to care. I wouldn't understand who you were caring for or about because I don't know who I am. I hate who I am and what I am. I hate whoever the hell I am. I have come to hate what it is that I might be, or sometimes am. I don't like the voided vaccum within which I feel like my being exists under a glass bubble. So close, yet so far away from others am I. So close, yet so far away, from whoever I am, am I. Who are you trying to care about? What does that mean, that you want to care about me? It would mean that I needed you to care. I don't need you to care but I am dying for you to care. Still, care from over there and don't act like I need you.

Rescue me, by leaving me alone...it'll kill me. Leave me alone but rescue me. I need you to rescue me if I am to live. I am not alive. I am dead. I am dead when I try to be alive. I am alive when I act like I'm so dead I can't feel anything. There is such a sharp feel to the pain of numbness. Feeling the absence of myself like this. Where do the feelings go? Where does all of that pain hide? I dissociate from all that hurts. I give it to others. It is their fault, and their problem, not mine. Help me, while you leave me alone. Leave me alone while you help me. NOW!

I am the center of the universe. Yes I am. I am it and it is me. I will act this way too, if I feel like it. No, you can't win. I will win. I'll get you coming and I'll get you going and there will be no way that you can win. I must always win. I need to control because I feel so helplessly out of control, but you can't know that. You can't know that okay, you don't know that about me. I don't know that about me. I don't know you and cause I don't know me. You can't know me either. No, I won't let you in to a place that I have yet to gain access to. No, me first.

Who am I? I thought I knew just a minute ago. Then, suddenly nothing felt familiar anymore. Nothing felt okay anymore: nothing felt SAFE anymore - nothing felt as it had before. Why does this happen and what does it mean? What do you mean you don't know? You are supposed to know. I expect you to know. And if I expect it then I have a right to demand it from you. Don't go asking me for anything, NO, it depends how I feel, and what I believe in any given moment...you just never can know cause I never know what I'll do or say or feel. Every moment changes and shifts from one to the next. What is real, what is truth, whether or not I think I can take care of myself or what I feel, or right or wrong, from minute to minute changes, so I really just don't know. I don't care to know. Don't bother me about it. Leave me alone, just stay here. And be quiet while you talk to me. Talk to me silently. Words can hurt. Don't be too quiet in your silence though, because silence can kill a soul. I know, it killed mine over and over again. Dead, time and time again, risen hopes, only to fall and to die, unanswered, arms outstretched, never reached for, never grasped, arms that hung outstretched while a little girl screamed in terror and fear and had more need than any infant could possibly bear to hold. Arms...that had to hold themsleves, suspended in mid air, left alone, ignored. Arms that would take another 36 years to ever dare to reach out again. So hold me, and rock me -- rock me to stillness -- gently okay, just don't touch me really, you know?

Truth, you want to talk truth? Whose truth, yours or mine? Is there a truth between? No, my truth is truth. Your idea of truth is a lie. I don't lie. If I don't lie and our truths aren't the same that makes you a liar. Does so....just does. If I am right then you are wrong. Yes you are. No I'm not. If I am good then you are bad if you don't agree with me and or see things my way. My way isn't just right, it is the only way. What matters is what I want and need. That's my truth. And my truth is the truth. Don't you even try to lie to me, don't...

I know things but they seem fleeting. What is real and important one minute is fragile and or gone and or misunderstood-misperceived and mis-interpreted by me the next minute. I don't know why? You were here a minute ago and it mattered. But then you left. While you were gone for three minutes and fifty-four seconds (clock time -- forever in my own sense of the reality of time) I forgot that you mattered to me and now I find it incredibly impossible to believe that you could love me and leave me just like that for three minutes and fifty-four seconds...to wait and to suffer like that, alone, isolated and afraid. Don't ever do that again. Promise me! Do you have any idea what you put me through? My parents left me like that. It's not alright for you to just be you and not be me -- while I'm being you too. I know things seem fleeting. Things keep changing. I can't hold anymore than I am whether I am holding anything or not.

You live in a "big picture." Life, so I am told unfolds in some "big picture" of reality. I live in millions of little pictures. Millions of pieces of reality. Snap shots from the whole, fragmented seconds of minutes that seem to encompass hours. I can't tell what is going on around me like you do. No, it does not make sense to me. Part of this picture lined up with part of that one...what am I supposed to see? What can I know from these mixed up jigsaw puzzle messages? I get part of it. I don't understand the rest. First you seem to make sense, then you don't so I get angry and frustrated. In one part of the picture I care about you but in another part of the picture I remember out of context when you said this or that and then I can't trust you anymore, or not until the next moment when two picture pieces fit briefly together. This is my experience. So one minute I want you close, from a distance and the next minute I want you distantly-close. This is what is going on inside of me. I don't want to hurt you like I do I just don't know how to make sense of all of these jumbled messages and fragmented pictures that bombard my mind constantly with images and thoughts that do not fit together, not now, not ever, hardly ever anyway. If memories are pictures of the way things were (or the way things are?)then my memories, like strewn screams, echo to a voided-abyss in a cavernous canyon. Imagine all of that sound overlapping itself. Could you hear me then, any better than I can hear you now?

welcome to my world
em xxxx

A little about the voice i hear

The voice seem to be in the room with me not in my head. Just like some sitting over in the corner of the room. i allso hear walking and door ring and phone ringing.

The girl is about 6 years and her name is Isabella, She is very shy and very easily upset. She also has a nasty side to her. She sings nursery rhymes. she is just like a little girl . she is very sweet voice and she always asking me to play with her .

The man is about 36ish and name is Chris, He so vindictive and always thinks there is a motive to every thing, He also tries and put people in to good, evil and pretender categorises. He also tries to validate that he is real all the time. Most of the time he just so nasty and calls every one down, that included me.

i am on meds mirtazpine 45mg, Quetiapine 300mg

self-harm and reasons

I was13 when I first started to self-harm. I just to self –harm in two ways

First way was overdoes and the second was to rub my arms, legs and tummy till they bleed.
The overdose there was different reason for this:
1) Was to get all the bad out of me.
2) It was also a way of losing weight. As after an over-dose. I would find it hard to eat. It made me feel sick all of the time and made my tummy feel full. OK it did not last long but it stopped my craving for a while.
3) I got the loving/caring attention I wanted.

The friction burns there was different reason for this:
1) To show how much I was hurting in side.
2) I wanted to say in the life I once knew. (Where I was being hurt, beaten and burned etc and punished for me doing wrong.) As the world seemed scary and unpredictable.
3) I got the loving/caring attention I wanted.
4) It was a way of balancing good and bad. So it was a way of control.

When I did self-harm I felt safe and satisfied may be because it was all I known.
It’s been 2 years since I last took and over-dose and 1 year since I friction burned.
OK I do some times feel the need to self-harm but I think of my family and what it does to them. It hit home when I went into the therapeutic community. They help me realizes the consequences of my actions. They showed me that when I self-harm people was hurting inside to. I was not only making my life hell. I was doing it to them my family and friends. How they showed this to me was I became friends with people in the community they had to trust me, work along side me. Most of all live with me. I had to do this in return for them. So it was hard for them or me to see them hurting them self. It made me think of all the pain and horrible feeling it had on my friends and family. It also had an affect on others as if they self-harmed it’s OK I can do it. Gave people permission to do it or an excuse. But you did not want the other person to self-harm so you also had to think of them as well as your self.

my story

I did this on Oct 16 2007, i have been doing my own blog on my personal PC and thought i share with people. If my story just help one person under stand my personality disorder i be happy.

At the age of 6 months.My mum and dad spilt up. Mum was having an affair with her another man. (Whom she is still with after 29 years.) The other man gave my mum an ultimatum it was her boyfriend or me. Mum gave me to her boyfriends mum. (Whom I call Nan.)As Nan did not want to see me put into care. She offered to look after me.Nan was married to my granddad. My Nan had 3 daughters and 3 sons. As a child I only remember bad stuff. Like my Granddad walking out of the house after an argument and never came back. Nan was getting drunk all the time. D who was one of my Nan’s sons although he was in is 20’s he had a mental age of a 6 year old. Always hit and beat me. Making me do thing I did not want to do. I remember one time he had an air pistol gun that you could put in little darts in. Then he was told me to do stuff and if I did not do it he would shoot me. He made me put my hand in a coal fire. He would push me down the stairs. Lock me in my room for days with out food. Made me clean the floors naked with a toothbrush and bleach etc. There is more but I would be here all week typing it all out. As my Nan was drinking all the time she did not know any thing was going on. I did tell her one-day but she was to drunk to listen. So I went to my mums one day to ask her I could live with her. She said no. So I told her why I wanted to live with her. Her response was I don’t believe you and sent me back to my Nans. This was also affecting my school life too. People told me I stunk and I was fat etc. Te reason for this was I only could fied food, as I did not have an oven or the vegetables or meat to cook. As my Nan drink the money. I would go to the pub with her. As a child people would give me money to by some sweets but I went to the chip shop. Also I had to take her home undress her when she pass out from the age of 7years. With D always on my back. I would try every thing to go to a friend’s house. To stay over for tea and to sleep over. The first few nights was great I had a dinner then a story read to us. But as I stay over more and more he would take advantage of me. I was asked to bring a friend round too. Then he made me do things to her too. This happened over a five year gap. I would go home to be beaten then go to my friends to be sexually abused. That was my child hood. Then one day I rang the social services for help and told them every thing. My friends dad was put into prison. Then I put my self into care at the age of 11. So I went to a family who had one son. My foster family was really nice at first but it went from one extreme to another. They watched me like a hawk. I would also sleep talk and walk and if they asked me questions and I would tell them every thing I did that day. I could not cope with the way they was in my face. They also said they treated me as on of the family. Things started to go wrong they were constantly watching me asking teachers what I was like at school. Even to a point of becoming friends with one of my teachers. I stared tanning to become a Care assistant at an old people home and bring in my own money £ 35 a week. I had to pay £30 for board leaving me with £5 a week to by soaps and women thing. I also had to buy my own towels, bedding, washing powder etc leaving me with nothing to go with my mates. Then I started to get depressed, have panic attacks and flash backs and I had to go into hospital for my own safety as I wanted to kill my self. I was in there for 5 month’s as I was getting better I started a self help group and met my husband there. I walked in the room and saw Steve sitting in the corner from that minute we knew that something special was going to happen. We arranged to go out together; despite the group warning us it wouldn't work. (What do they know eh?) Within, two months we were engaged. A year later we had our own place. Another year and we were married. We went off, just the two of two friends, to the Peak District and us and got married quietly. Just when we thought things couldn't get any better, four months later, we found out I was expecting. It was Boxing Day and I wanted to go to the chemist. Steve thought it was odd, but hadn't got a clue what was going through my mind. i bought a pregnancy kit and we just didn't know what to say. We were so happy when it came out positive. Rowan has changed our lives no-end. We have had so many laughs with him it is unbelievable.I had depression bad with rowan and things started to get worse. So I went into hospital and the therapist told me about therapeutic community. Rowan was about 3 years of age I went for 6 months at Frances Dixon lodge. I had to come of all meds and stop self-harming. But I did it! . It was hard I had therapy 24 hours day and night. With support when ever I need it. I found it to hard to open but I did a little bit but then found my self. Missing my husband and child. I only got to see them at weekends. I put my therapy on hold because I could not get on with another resident. I wanted to be like her and she wanted to be like me total clash. Then one day I could not hold it any more I had the biggest argument with her leading to be voted out by the community. As I scared her but pushing her out of the way to get out of the building. As I was so mad with her. I got home and things stared to fall apart because I felt like I was just dropped and the can of worms was open that could not be closed. So I was at home for about two years and had some one to one with a therapist. I got a job at the local supper market. 4 hours a day. Then one day some one walked in to the store, which I remembered from my passed. It was one of the people who abused me. Well this made me fall into a psychotic episode. I heard a voice and I was not very well at all. I pushed every one away from me. Then started to self harm again and they put me back on a loads of meds. The meds streted to work and I started to come out of the episode. So I asked if I could go back to the community. I went back but there was different people and I kind of known what was expected from me. I did their therapy and learned loads on how to cope with life and learned that there was more to life than me in pain. I looked around and seen my son playing and husband with him having fun. That was it I now know what ever happened to me as a child has gone and there was no need to live there any more. I was not afraid any more of living life. Until now march 07 I was free from meds for a year and a half. I was living life and I was so happy. I was enjoying my son playing and helping him with is homework even enjoyed having him home on school holidays. I was having fun for the first time in ages. Then thing started to go all-wrong. I started with feeling really tired then snapping at every one around me. I did not really see what was going on. Till it took my husband a bottle of wine and a two glass of whisky to tell me that things was not right. So I rang my CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) to tell her things was not right. So then she rang the psychiatric doctor to get him to assess me. He diagnosed me with a depressive illness. I am finding it hard to cope once again. The bad thoughts are coming back and also I want to self-harm again. It’s so hard as I thought I was out of mental health services. To have all my happiness and able to cope with life pulled away is so cruel. I feel I am back to square one again. I all I hope it the meds the doctor gave me start to work soon. As things have started to fall even deeper. I hear the voice again. I have not told any one just yet as my husband is found it hard to cope with last time. I know he has to know some time.

Oct 16 2007,