The Louvre Of Souls

Posted on by Jemima

I’ve walked the fires of hell.

I have breathed life into the dead.

I have been crushed under the weight of a million stony glares.

My wings were clipped by the fingers of blame and shame.

I have seen the details in a pitch black room, as bright as the sun, yet no other could behold.

I was weighed down by the chains of others perceptions, and bore the wounds from a thousand sharp words loosed from bows held by those who were intimidated by my authenticity.

I didn’t just fall from the cliffs of Grace, I was thrown.

Hurled by those in masks that resembled loved ones.

My head was held by them, under the thick, black, suffocating waters of contempt.

But I rose from the depths of despair and narcissism cast upon me by my blood and as I fled it’s icy cold clutches, I gulped in the air of anonymity.

The anonymity that cut the bonds of their crushing labels and cruelty, and freed myself of their misplaced chains.

I found my power at the edge of life, staring into my reflection that floated ethereally before me, ebbing and flowing with the currents of black and red, green and blue; a rainbow of emotions.

I captured those parts of my reflection that I was proud of and left the rest to float away on the tide of time.

I peered at reflections of other souls, who’s eyes spoke of belief in whispers so quiet they were barely seen.

Their words caressed my black pain and soothed my soul like a hungry child is soothed by its mothers milk.

And finally, I find my road to be dotted with the tell tale signs of spring, rebirth and new hope.

I sit with this contentedness, my scars twisting into works of art so intricate I cannot help but describe them as my masterpieces.

I cannot help but to see that I am a masterpiece in my entirety.

I am a beautiful work of art in a gallery of a thousand other masterpieces who all compliment eachother.

We are the Louvre of Souls.

Ironic butterfly

Posted on by Jemima

These past months I have been progressing in leaps and/or bounds. The mindfulness is plentiful. The grounding is bountiful. The peace and strength I once thought was lost forever is returning like the prodigal son.

When I am reminded of an unpleasant memory I do grounding, I tell myself I’m in the here and now, it can’t hurt me any more, and I go do something that makes me feel good about myself or brings an enhancement to the quality of my future or happiness.

But lately, one particular question keeps rising in the back of my mind at random and often inconvenient times.

I want to know why it is that society at large deems it perfectly acceptable to, in short, abuse via stigma and misinformation, those who are suffering from mental health issues.

Think about it this way

I have borderline pd

I’m almost 2000% positive that it was formed due to the psychological, emotional, sexual, and physical abuse I have suffered throughout my formative years, as well as the following decades as a reinforcement of borderline patterns.

So why is it that my family saw fit to abuse me if they knew I was abused? But yet totally put the onus of my conditions on me and me alone?

Why is it that when I am open about my bpd, people all of a sudden form an erroneous and stereotyped opinion of who I am which results in more often than not, them running for the hills and I’m left wondering wtf I did wrong.

The first I can answer.

Aside from the sexual abuse, my family are the ones who abused me to begin with in all other forms. For roughly 30 years.

Why would they stop now?

Ask them and they will tell you I have npd

And they will also tell you I’m not allowed to state that I have any mental health issue because that’s hiding behind it.

As luck would have it, this is what caused me to go get tested to begin with. They were so adamant that I was a narc, they had me believing it too so I went and got tested and found my narc levels to be normal but also discovered I have bpd,

(This discovery was made after one member of my family spearheaded a smear campaign like you’ve never known and as a result I was completely Ostresized, disowned, cut off whatever you want to cal it, my children alienated, I was stalked, and absolutely screwed over completely by this oh so loving family. )

Well why the hell wouldn’t I? After what they put me through how can they expect me to be well adjusted?

Actually how can society expect me to be mentally sound? It was society that put me into the arms of a pedophile as a young baby, and it was society that put me back into an abusive home. But I’m expected to be Completely well adjusted and of sound mind.

Uh

It don’t work that way buddy.

It just astounds me more-so about the lack of education and understanding that the general population shows towards people with any kind of mental health issue!!

Once I figure out how to get past this little speed hump I’ll let you know

But until then my mind is going to continue to boggle at the most inconvenient times lol

New Year, New life.

Posted on by Jemima

Soooo seeing how it’s nearly February I figured it’s about time I posted about the new year lol

A few things are going on in my world

We have a new place, maybe not everything we would like to have in terms of material possessions but we have everything we need.

I’ve enrolled in college as step one of my overall plan of action in my career.

Doing a certificate in community services which will enable me to work in the industry while furthering my studies in the psychology field, and apply recognised prior learning when the time comes for university.

I’ve had a few different thoughts running around in my head of late

The biggest one is the change in my personal outlook on life

I look back at this time last year and I can see how much progress I have made

I’ve gone from being completely overwhelmed with thoughts of worthlessness, bad luck, karmic punishment and the like, to feeling like I am in control of my future, to having a better grasp on mindfulness, grounding techniques, acceptance of emotions and learning to let them crest and fall like a wave washing over me.

The idea of being able to help others in situations like those I have been in excites me. It brings meaning to the horror I’ve endured. And that makes me feel like it’s all worth it.

So new year, new life. Damn straight!!!

To One Who Helped Me Fly

Posted on by Jemima

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while. I just didn’t know what words to use.

As I write this I’m bawling my eyes out

But not in a bad way.

I have the most overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

My burnt soul is becoming more soothed and healing at an alarming rate

My power is back, albeit not completely but every day it’s growing stronger and stronger and I really feel the need to acknowledge one particular human angel.

I am no longer shattered.

Things have “clicked” in my brain.

My disorders are losing their grip

I am not the victim I once was.

To you Daina, my previous psych,

I have so much love and gratitude for you.

I came to you completely busted. On the bones of my ass. Battered, bruised, hopelessly lost.

You showed me ways to heal, that I wasn’t a lost cause like I thought I was, though I might not have understood at the time what you were trying to teach me, I do now. In its entirety.

Your words still ring in my ears from time to time.

Every now and then, while I’m walking with my headphones on, or chopping up vegetables for dinner, or hanging a load of laundry out, or some other mundane task, they swim into my mind and float around in there and I HEAR them.

You will always be a part of me in that sense. You’ve changed my life in ways I never thought possible.

You’re STILL changing my life!!

I really do miss you. And I think of you quite a lot and I know that you’re out there helping others just like me slay their dragons and rise up out of the ashes of their old injured selves and become strong warriors.

You inspire me to do the same.

So this coming year I will be commencing studies to be able to do what you do. Beginning with community services, and eventually ending up with a psych degree.

I want to use my experiences in a way that makes them not all for nothing. I want to give them meaning.

I want to be someone who can lift others up the way you do and help them walk to a better life the way you do.

To Daina

I genuinely cannot find words to express the depth of my gratitude for your presence in my life, in the past, and also now when you’re in my mind. Such words don’t exist in our world.

You truly are a healer!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Bpd & Newtons’ 3rd Law. 

Posted on by Jemima

If you were lucky enough to gain a half decent education that touched upon the fundamentals of science and its’ pioneers, you might remember learning about one of the great forefathers of scientific discovery, Sir Isaac Newton. 

According to Wikipedia, Sir Isaac Newton 

was an English mathematician, astronomer, and physicist (described in his own day as a “natural philosopher“) who is widely recognised as one of the most influential scientists of all time and a key figure in the scientific revolution

One of the laws that Sir Isaac Newton discovered, known as Newtons 3rd Law, is “For every action, there is an equal an opposite reaction”.
This law though usually applied to physics, can also be applied to psychology and mental health if we think about it. 

In physics, we get basic examples like if we want to jump, our legs apply force to the ground, and the ground applies force back, thus allowing our bodies to be propelled into the air for a short period of time. 

Smooshing mental health and the 3rd Law together means we might get something like what I’ve described below:

If we think about the force of our legs on the ground as the Action,  

(Force = Action)

Then take the ground as the Perception,

(Ground = Perception)

Then the propelled motion into the air is the Reaction. 

(Motion = Reaction) 

Let’s dig deeper. 
Let’s say the Perception (the Ground) is broken. 

What will happen to the Reaction (the Motion)? 

Will it be something that considered rational? Or Sane? Or understandable? (Straight up and back down? Will your landing be controlled and safe?)

Or will it be helter-skelter, uncontrolled, arms and legs akimbo? Will your landing be unsafe? Risking injury? (Emotionally charged, erratic, nonsensical?)
We can safely say that with quite a few mental health afflictions, like Borderline Personality Disorder,  for eg,  the Perception, ( i.e. the Ground) has been broken, through whatever means, be it abuse or genetics or what have you. 

What ever it may be, the Ground  (Perception) is busted. Reactions (Motion) are going to be erratic and unstable. They’re not going to make sense to people who’s Ground (Perception) isn’t broken. 

Bearing in mind they make complete sense to the affected person, they’ve never known any different. The Ground (Perception) has always been like that.  

How could anyone know something is broken if it’s always been like that and they’ve never been introduced to anything else. 

This is why it’s so important not to label a mentally ill persons reactions as ‘acting out’ or ‘ misbehaving’ or “being an ass” or whatever.  They aren’t being any of those things, theyre simply reacting with the broken perceptions of which they know no other.  

I really hope this helps someone understand a little better what it’s like. And I hope that helps them understand the mentally ill people in their lives. Because that little bit of understanding can go a very long way to helping those ill people get on the road to healing. 
Thats all it took for me. A handful of understanding people! 

Im not anywhere near healed yet but I’m on the road.  And I’ll get there. Eventually.  

 

An Open Letter to Those of You Who Aren’t Crazy. 

Posted on by Jemima

Dear Sane People,

I wish I could explain to you how it is. But not being Borderline (which borderline really is the only viewpoint I can offer as that is from where my experience comes from), or any other mental affliction, means you won’t have a certain insight into just how exhausting it really is.

The thought in itself that one second is all it takes to go from being fully functional to a crippled mess for a week is totally heartbreaking.  It saddens me that the outlook for anyone with borderline personality disorder is at best “you’ll learn to cope”. There is no cure. And so I mourn a life that could have been majorly successful if I had have been given the same mental health chances as everyone else. I mourn this life every day. Over and over again.

Sometimes I feel strong. Sometimes I feel I can handle anything. That not even this evil disorder can defeat me. Other times, I cannot fathom living this way. Never knowing when it’s going to hit. Never knowing when my mental legs will give way. Or when my support will throw their hands up in defeat and say they’ve had enough.  I can’t stop when I spiral. I can’t control when I’m triggered. I can’t control how I feel.  And it’s exhausting trying to keep a lid on the lot. I never know what’s in my head and what’s real. I never know if what has been said is meant by definition A or B. I’m always over analysing things, going over them time and again.

And this. All of this. It’s so, so tiring. Mentally I’m crippled. Physically I’m exhausted.
My house is clean for a day. It’s taken me a month to work up the motivation to clean it. No I’m not lazy. I hate living in a pig sty. It disgusts me and makes me feel even worse than what I already do. I can’t explain to you why I can’t get up and do stuff. I just know I have no energy. No will to continue. No motivation. If i didnt have to get out of bed to pee or shower I wouldn’t.

And the same can be said of employment.  Right now there’s no way in hell I could hold down a job. That knowledge leads me to the conclusion that I’m a sponge. A drain on society and the govt coffers. And what does that do? Makes me feel worthless.  A pig. A leech. I have no right being here. I should die and everyone would be better off….see the cycle of thinking?

I have no capacity for future planning. All I see ahead are days spent crippled under the covers of my bed crying or wishing I was numb. I don’t see any way out except death. And I long for it. For an end to the pain that is unrelenting and cruel.

And the saddest thing is that society as a whole expects me to function within its normal definitions because I don’t look sick. I’m pigeon holed as a drama queen. I’m  branded as making up the whole thing, what ever it may be. I get thrown away because I’m a round peg and they want me to fit into a square hole. I cannot help the way I am.

As a matter of fact if I could I would.  I did not choose to be like this.  No One chooses to be like this. Give me one good example of someone choosing to be completely emotionally crippled to the point they will lock themselves away in their house and only venture out when they have no other choice? One good example of someone deliberately ruining otherwise perfectly good relationships because of reasons that no other person can deem malleable?

There are no mentally healthy people out there who do that.

So dearest non borderline,  i plead with you to use mercy and understanding when it comes to people who are “drama queens” look beyond the surface. I can guarantee you somethings awry. It might not be borderline.  It may be something else. But guaranteed it WILL be something.

Be Yourself? Never!

Posted on by Jemima

I’m sure all of you out there in the intricate land of colourful interwebs have at one stage or another, heard pearls of wisdom roll from the lips of a wise elder in their immediate community; words that encourage you to be you. Words that confirm that you, as you are, as the way you were born and the way you will ever be in your most basic state,  with no bells or whistles, with no plastic surgery or make up, no hair extensions, no elocution classes, no brand label clothing, no specific moral code, just the bare bones you, are good enough. The core you, is just perfect, imperfections included, and that people who like you for who you are, are the ones who matter, and those who don’t,  we’ll theyre not worthy of your attention or energy and to therefore not to waste your precious time on them.

Everyone has heard these words tumble from a family member or teacher, a work colleague or a school friend. They are very common words. Yes they are wise words too! What they represent is true!

But what happens when you allow yourself to be the bare bones you. The stripped down let it all hang out,hide nothing from those who’ve encouraged you to just be you. What happens when you trust these people with your heart. When you shed the masks of bpd that you’ve worn all these years and show the vulnerable little child underneath who’s all torn up and bleeding.

What happens when those trusted family members teachers friends colleagues or what have you, are horrified at what they see?

What happens when they see what they’ve been encouraging you to show them and then recoil, and run, screaming at every other possible avenue for support, convincing others that youd would normally be able to turn to for advice, that you’re a monster, a demon, the anti christ, an entity to be banished at any cost,

What happens when they flee after seeing this mangled wreck of a soul, taking with them on their stampede of terror along the way, as many others as possible?

What are you left with?

Take a hard look at me.

That is my story. In a nutshell, that is what happened to me.

And people wonder why I’m as fucked up as I am.

Evil is as evil does? 

Posted on by Jemima

Someone I am acquainted with in a social group for bpd raised the question 

“Do you think you’re ‘evil’? Like you were born ‘evil’?”
And I kinda surprised myself with the answer I wrote. It’s from the heart, it’s me taking a risk and jumping into a terrifying pool of possible rejection. I’m being brave here;

I don’t know about evil, maybe?. But I’ve always felt there was something rotten inside. I’ve known I’m different from the generalised population Like I am defected. Therefore I’m second rate quality. A reject or misfit. And when I come to think about it,  that’s something I think I have tried to hide without realising it, the so called ‘defect’ and I think that subconscious concealment of my warped self perception might make me come across as not honest? or there’s something shifty about me? Maybe?  I dunno. 

But as far as evil goes,maybe not so much.

Here We Go Round The Mulberry  Bush…..Again. 

Posted on by Jemima

So once again I come across yet another so called professional squawking the total wrong thing about borderline personality disorder.  

This one went on and on describing what I  know to be hallmark traits of a narcissist. 

Can I just say right here and right now…

BORDERLINE IS NOT NARCISSISM. 

I can’t stress this enough, people. 

For someone like me who SUFFERS (that’s right I said suffer; because that‘s exactly what we do. We suffer borderline. It‘s not something we want in our lives); from Bpd to read articles that place us in the generalised slot of evil, is torture. Regardless of who you are, our Bpd won’t let us not feel a tinge of anger at the obvious stupidity and/or lack of education and major lack of empathy surrounding the author. 

We might not be able to regulate our emotions as well as others but that doesn’t mean we are evil. 

You’ll find that the majority of bpd sufferers are extremely compassionate.  We will go to lengths above and beyond the call of duty to make others feel comfortable. Often going without so someone else can have.   We can be candidly honest about a lot of things that most people wouldn’t dare discuss.  We are just like everyone else. We laugh, we cry, we love, we hate, we care, we show compassion, we get embarrassed, we have pride, we get sad, we get scared, we are brave. We feel everything you do, but the difference is, we feel it  a lot more and I mean A LOT more. Sometimes it’s overwhelming.  And by sometimes I mean most of the time. The ups are way up and the downs are way down. 

The fact that there’s strong evidenice to suggest that bpd is (at least in part) caused by trauma and invalidation,  makes me wonder why anyone would think it’s a great idea to traumatise and invalidate by posting wrongful information about a group of people who are already in the depths of hell because of those things?

We got ourselves a real bright spark there!! Hold me back, there oughtta be a line up to get an appointent with these so called professionals. Somebody take my money please! 
I implore you, all of you, laymen, professionals and the afflicted to fucking read up on the subject before posting bullshit that can and will affect (some of) the bpd population in a very negative way. 

How can we get better and learn to control this God awful disorder if we have know-it-all uneducated keyboard Warrior fucktards with a degree from an online uni painting an evil picture and encouraging the misinformation of the audience through their own lack of knowledge and understanding.  

Gawd somethings really shit me. And this is up the top of the list. 
Education is the key here. It’s the key to unlock the prison that awareness is held in. Awareness is freeing. Its the key to unlocking a prisomers such as bpd or even things like equality and same sex marriage. 

Non-judgmental information can help all of us ( healthy and unhealthy alike) learn how this disorder works so that we can navigate our way to recovery. You know what they say

Right thoughts,  right words, right action. 

The Demon Within

Posted on by Jemima

Ask any bpd sufferer what it feels like to be triggered and you’ll get a myriad of different descriptions.  But within these descriptions is a few commonalities.  The emptiness,  the sadness, the anguish, shame and guilt all are common themes across the bpd spectrum. 

I thought I would try and paint a picture with my words and enlighten the non bpd people that they might have a small insight into the living hell that bpd is. 


“I’m so sad about everything. I just can’t stop crying and I feel like I’m not even in my own body. It’s like I’m watching a horror film of myself.  All I feel is like this huge black hole in the middle of my chest and  I can’t stop it from getting bigger and nothing I do fills it up. It’s like the nothingness that was consuming Fantasia in the movie The Never Ending Story. Once it passes over, nothing but sadness, anger, shame, guilt, and despair is left. I can only describe a deep hollow feeling where my heart is.  It’s hungry for more and more and my tears feed it. 

My thoughts are unrelenting and beyond negative and I start to feel blame for things I have no control over, not to mention things I do. 

My kids, my family, friends, workmates. I feel guilty for being alive around them, I feel like a vortex of negativity sucking the joy out of anyone who is near. Anguish plaguess me about issues that have involved themselves in this event when they shouldn’t have. All these emotions crowd my non existent self esteem sending the already negative esteem even deeper into the minuses. 

I’m a failure. I’m a horrible person. I’m selfish. I’m greedy.  I’m cunning and sly. I’m nasty. I’m ugly inside and out. I’m a user. I’m something to avoid at all costs.  

 My souls core feels black and heavy. Weighed down by the heaviest burden of guilt and shame and sadness known to man. It’s heavy and it’s empty, it’s unrelenting, its more painful than childbirth.  I can’t handle how intense it is. I literally feel like my heart’s about to cave in.

It’s at this point where I start to feel so worthless and in so much emotional pain that I want to end it all. If I’m dead, I won’t be feeling anything. Then I look at my son. Hes amazing. He doesn’t know but he’s the reason I’m still here. 

I long for peace inside and cry harder because I can’t kill myself. I can’t leave my little boy. Conflicting reasons float up from the bottom of the nothingness.  I start to think if I’m gone then maybe my son would have a chance to live a life with someone who could make him happier and parent him a whole heap better than I can. I think how I’m worthless as a friend, lover, mother. This feeds the nothingness too 

I head to the bathroom where I keep razor blades. I sit on the edge of the bath and drag the blade across my thighs. I watch the blood start to pool on my skin and finally drop into the bath. Sweet physical pain. This is something I can handle.  It takes the focus off the pain in my heart.  

When I finally regain some composure, I’m left feeling exhausted with angry red cuts all over my thighs. Big migraine headaches plague my forehead and temples and the back of my head. My eyes feel like they’re covered in sand, my heartbeats rapid and all I want to do is sleep. I want to sleep because it takes so much out of me to cope with the emotional pain. If I’m sleeping I’m not thinking. If I’m not thinking I’m not hurting. “

So there you have it. One person’s take on the feelings that accompany a bpd trigger event . Hope this helps you to understand bpd a little better.