Letter To My Daughter

Dearest N,

You are my precious sunshine. The reason I get up each morning and my reminder to go to bed each night. You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. Even though you drive me insane at times I still smilw at your antics. I miss those days when I could just hold you. 

Now I can barely get you to hold my hand as we cross the street. Doesn’t mean you aren’t still loving, just that you would rather explore the world. How I love to watch you explore this world. You are so insightful to what is around you. Extremely smart and brave, you do and say things I couldn’t dream of. 

You always have a kind word for others. Your very presence makes the world a better place, it seems. 

How could someone not love you. My baby sunshine. My little girl. My precious angel. You are my everything. 

Yet…I am not perfect. I am no match for you light. I do not make people happy just by coming around. I bring no light to this world. I am not brave or smart. I am not insightful. I see this world as cruel and unyielding.  I am not happy. I am no angel. I am nothing. 

There are days when I think about sending you to live with another family. People who can properly love and care for you. Others who are made of light who will not bring you down. 

I am your opposite in every way. 

How did you, one so pure, manage to come from someone as broken as me. 

There are days when I figure you would be better off with me dead. 

So I don’t hold you back as you age. 

I hate myself so much that I feel it is rubbing off on you. Just the other day I heard you call yourself stupid. Please don’t do that. Never think that. It is me who is stupid but I guess I call myself that enough that you think you are as well. You are not. 

You are the one thing I did right. My gift to this dark world. My only wish is that you change it for the better. That as you age you light never dims. 

I hope that you know you are loved. 

No matter how sick I get know that I love you. 

No matter the words I say know that I cherish you. 

No matter how down I get know that you are worth it all. 

You may be the light to my darkness but know that I am here. I am listening to you even when the pain won’t go away. 

I am sorry for the hell I put you through.  For the times I cried and couldn’t get out of bed. I am sorry for the times it seemed like I didn’t want to play. 

You are my most precious baby girl.

My reason to go on.

I know that isn’t fair on you at all and I am sorry. I do what I can to make you happy. 

This letter was suppose to raise you up…and I am getting to that point. First I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for doing and saying the things I do. 

Sorry doesn’t cut it but know that I am trying my hardest to make things work. 
Raising you is difficult by myself. People told me I should habe gotten rid of you but I didn’t listen. I do not regret that in the slightest.  I hope you grow to understand that. You are not a mistake. You are someone so astonishing even the gods take notice. 

I will not always be here but know that I love you my little one. 

Know that no matter what is said and done that I will always be watching over you. 

Know that my flaws are not a reflection of you. What is broken in me just proves that you are someone so strong that you can get through anything. 

I miss the times when you let me hold you for hours on end. When I could caress your tiny face and hands. 

Now you are older and want to play by your own rules.  My this world be kind to you my love. Always stay true to yourself. You are a smart, confident, beautiful, amazing, generous, kind, courageous baby girl. My baby girl. 
I know none of this makes any sense now but It will in the future. 

I promise I will try my hardest to be there and explain it all to you. 

I love you my sunshine. 

 Momma. 

Ideal situations: My BPD 

Do you think they would tell her why I did it? Or would they keep it a secret and let her guess.

Would they tell her that I gave up on life?

Or would they explain to her how much I tried to survive.

Tell her how much I love her and how I cared. How many days I spent crying cause I wanted to be there. Those days I hated myself she is the only one who could make me believe.

In the end will they tell her the truth or would they just pretend?

I often wonder what would happen if I was to give in. I can’t do it cause I love her so, but damn, I want my life to end.
What would they tell my little girl if I was to succeed.  A bunch of bullshit lies or the truth they didn’t want to see.

I fucking hate myself and want to die but I can’t.

I have a little girl who needs me, at least that is what they tell me.

I think she will be ok. Rather be dead with her grieving then go about life hating the world because of my depression. Hating the world cause of my urges.

I rather her know that I love her and I tried then go through life hating it cause I made it hell.
But still…

If I did it what would they tell her.

My precious baby girl, what would they say.

In my head my death is a welcomed gift. Finally things will be ok.

But would they tell her this. Or would they make her think she was a mistake.

I love her so very much. Why Can’t I be allowed to give up?

I know they will tell her lies so that is why I stay. I stay so she will know that I love her everyday. I know her life will be hell and I know she may regret me. Still, I will be the bigger person and live despite being so empty

A random status update

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way. 

Murder, She wrote

I often find myself reading psychological books where people are forced to face some past demon. Maybe they were abused growing up or they witnessed something they shouldn’t have. Maybe they had a moment of weakness and it cost someone their life. I love this type of stories because they can bring me comfort or even force me to see things. When I see them I also get to read about how people overcame these obstacles and found something close to happiness.

Funny thing is that sometimes the main character may have to go seek professional help. They are diagnosed and if you, like me, love looking up mental illness, you can sometimes can an “Ah yep understandable” moment.

I recently had one where a man was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  In the story I read he was hurt as a child by his father and also watched as his father killed another little boy. His life was full of abuse even as he reached adulthood yet his quirks seemed so familiar to me. They were much like my own that before I even got to the chapter where he was diagnosed I started to question things.

He has this urge to paint, to tell his story. To finally undo this lie he was forced to keep. If he didn’t paint he would basically escape into himself and a ‘monster’ would take over. When that happened people were hurt bad.

The story was pretty much talking about his journey with overcoming it all and being able to love someone.  This was a psychological romance (m/m cause a duh) that left me crying.

It touched on things I have never even told my therapist for fear they would find me an unfit parent. How there are times when I feel like someone is watching me. They are so very angry. I know exactly who they are but I can’t tell anyone. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I can hear them talking (it is usually only one…or at least it has been since my daughter was born)

I know who she is and I know that with time I won’t feel her presence anymore.

I don’t know why it took a fictional book to help me realize that what I am going through is normal. I am pretty sure most would question my already fading sanity levels if I had told them.

But it is true. This book helped me a lot. I will probably never be as brave as this fictional character.  I will probably never have the type of love that they received either. Nor will I get the kind of support and dedication that I need to make it through this life as they did. I am not alone though.

Reading has always been something that saved me. I could focus on someone elses trouble for a while. My life isn’t perfect at all but it is my life. It may not make sense to believe this book helped me despite me writing as though I am helpless towards my future. I mean I do not think I have a future but this book did help me. I am not alone in what I feel.

My life isn’t some written fiction someone made up. I may not have the perfect ending to it but it is mine. In time my thoughts could change. But just knowing that I am not alone brings me a world of comfort.
There she follows

To and fro

A little girl I forget to know

Shackled to a hurtful past

She haunt my conscience so the pain will last

I regret the cause that brought her near

Regret the dreams I have grown to fear

The little girl who cases

To and fro

The little girl who won’t leave me alone

So I write her story

I write her song

I write all the way I have done her wrong

So that she may go to sleep another day

Until she is once again ready to play

*****************************************

The book that made me feel this way can be found here (via author website. She has a lot of other books that deal with some tough issues)

Or directly on amazon here

She is an amazing writer so check her out if you like m/m novels.

Listen

   Today I had a conversation with someone about parenting.  Now normally these end on a pretty positive note despite some arguments in the middle. Yet this time I was left with a horrible taste in my mouth. I felt so very dirty after talking to them.

     They told me how once they became a parent they would not allow their children to have any toys or watch TV. They would monitor the  friends they made and their lives will be filled with nothing but learning. Even from the womb they would be teaching them a new language.

      Now all that isn’t all that bad. All parents do a variation of this. What made me feel ill is how they would go about doing this. How the child would not be allowed to talk to others outside of the family. How they had no choice in this and werent not allowed to play. First they said no tv but that they could play old school games. When I mentioned that games where TV time pretty much, they changed it to that the child can watch TV but not much. They would only get movies and the child would not allowed to read anything that wasn’t educational.

If the child did not like this then the childs only option was to move out. They had to obey all rules or would be forced to go to the nearest mental ward for a bit…no matter the age. So if their 4-year-old was giving them problems they would call the comes and have them admitted.

I listened to this for as long as I could handle before I couldn’t take anymore. They said that they lived a life such as this and grew up fine but when talking about their parents you could tell they hated them. They treated the parents like shit and gleefully explained how they should no longer be allowed do certain things. Like be on social media or even talk to them. They said they loved their parents a lot.

They said that they turned out fine but they are homeless and they have a sibling who is in jail…yet both turned out fine from their own choices. Despite having a life they said guarantees them success in life.

I urged them to read a parenting book but they explained that they would make the perfect parent. I highly doubt that…

There is nothing wrong with being a someone strict parent but being both strict and a helicopter parent won’t help a thing.

This life of this hypothetical child sounded horrible. I felt like crying because I couldn’t image this sort of suffering. To not be able to have friends and enjoy life. They wouldn’t even be allowed outside cause they had studies to do. Sure they may have a good adult life but what about their childhood. Being smart is something we all strive for but that won’t bring us happiness. Sure having a crap ton of money, doing well in school, having various skills is nice, but what about life?
What is the point of living when you are alone?

This person seemed almost proud of how things are and I hate them for it. I know I am judging their life. I have my own issues. My life wasn’t perfect at all. I had the strict parent and I had the one who wasn’t there. I had the parent who tried to be my best friend and I had the parent who wanted me to worship the air they breathe. The ones who say they are always right no matter what and the ones who admitted perpetual defeat.
I was raised with it all and I did not turn out fine. I was spanked as a child and hate the ones who did it. I plotted their deaths for quite some time. Wasn’t till I was an adult that I realized that they came out of the experience able to sleep at night, and I was the only one who hated myself for it.

As a parent I see myself as more Permissive/ authoritative style. I give in a lot of the time. I want my daughter to have her own mind and at times forget that I have one. I have a hard time staying structured. I am pretty spontaneous as a parent which can be good and bad. I love talking to my daughter about how she is feeling. Is she gets into trouble we talk it through. Sometimes I just randomly ask her how she feels. It makes me happy cause there are times she will do the same for me. Praise is often given for no real reason in my home. I can be distant when I go through a bout of depression and I really hate playing pretend. But I make up for it by singing with her and reading her books whenever I can. We play dress up and paint our nails.

I do not expect much from her. I just got to the point where she has to pick up her own toys but I do not push a lot of issues. As long as she does her best I am happy.

This can make it seem as though I see her as a friend and I guess there are times I do. My daughter is the only person I talk to. I can go months without speaking to anyone who isn’t paid to be around me (Therapists, Doctors,etc). I sometimes forget what it feels like to talk to an actual adult. Now I go about a week without speaking to friends but it still takes a toll on my parenting. I am a single mom and it is hard for me to get to know people. I came from a pretty chaotic background. She is all I have really. It takes looking through articles such as this for me to realize how what I am doing affects her development.

I still have structure. She get rewarded or disciplined for bad behaviour. I no longer allow her to do what she wants but I am not yet where I want to be as a parent.

Still when this person told me about their plans it sickened me. It sounded like a prison.  I know I am probably judging them harshly but I couldn’t take it. Once they left a weight was lifted from me. Their  very presence was causing me to go insane.

This may not make any sense to many. It may even seem a bit silly to get upset over something like this. Something so small as talking about a child who isn’t here. Looking back at it all I probably over reacted but I won’t say a thing to them. I no longer trust them and want nothing to do with them. In my eyes they are monsters. How could they do this? How could they treat a child so? I have a feeling that is silly but my hurt and anger won’t go away.

I hate this…

L

Spaceships

Hello, I have BPD and it does define me. I refuse to lie and say it doesn’t.  I have anxiety and I have depression. I have mood swings out the ass, and there are moments when burning down a building full of people I hate sounds like a really good idea.

I can’t stand loud noises unless I make them. I jump to conclusion quickly but I also like to take time to think about what is going on. I feel to much at a time. Though there are times I feel nothing at all. My anger isn’t like yours. Something so small can make me feel like John Wick after someone killed my dog. I will hunt you down and I destroy every thing you love dearly. I will not only destroy that but I will make sure everyone knows what kind of monster you all. Nothing will be held back.

My happiness isn’t like yours. The smallest thing can make me smile for hours on end. You can tell me someone called you a bitch and I will still smile like it is the best thing ever.

My sadness isn’t like yours. When I am sad I  am dead inside. I feel nothing but that pain and it will spiral. Know how people joke about how girls will bring up stuff that happened years ago in an argument? Well imagine that happening all the time. When I get sad every bad thing comes to mind. Stuff I did as a kid is suddenly brought up in my head.  I will beat myself up over it and hate myself anew. I will contemplate suicide in a dark room. I will pretend that I am ok but I am not. I will smile amd make jokes, but instead be making up the seating arrangements for my funeral. Who will say what and when. Who will lie and say they love me and who won’t even show up. Don’t worry I have always known how my funeral will look, only the music changes with each reimage.
My emotions are not like others. They are to high. Ever got a song stuck in your head? How the tempo seems to go faster and faster. Louder and louder till you feel a snap! That is my life. My every day unless I go numb.
That is my Borderline Personality Disorder.
It hurts to sleep sometimes.

I can’t build relationships cause I either trust to much or to little. One minute I will love a person and the next they are satans midwife. Giving birth to a new evil who will take over this world instead of killing it when they had the chance.

I have BPD and it defines me. It is who I am but I try to not let it control me. Do not forget is there though. Do not try to wish it away. It won’t magically go away so learn about it and understand who I am. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. This is me…

I refuse to say sorry for not saying goodbye

I did not say goodbye instead I sat there crying. 

I couldn’t get the words out. I couldn’t even think. Instead I cried for what felt like hours until my tears where spent.

Tried to fake a smile and pretend things are going ok. For my daughter I pretened that I am all right with this end. 

But I can’t seem to feel anymore. I can’t bring myself to care. All I have is a liquid heart because what was once there has melted. 

I am not happy with the hand I was dealt and really just want to lie down and give up. 

I Can’t even end this on a proper note. I can’t make a decent beat…im done.