Having borderline personality disorder all my life, I have always felt somewhat like a freak. Never quite fitting in, like a pear trying to blend in with a bunch of pineapples! This poem is about lying awake, feverish, watching all the scenes of your life flash by and trying to deal with them. To deal with the person I was.
For me writing poetry is my only form of deep release; to get these feelings free from their turmoil and place them neatly and artistically on paper. Then to marvel over them and experience the joy that I’ve created something fresh and new in this redundant world. I can describe how my highs are like the feeling when you’re on a rollercoaster; the exhilaration and sheer high you feel as your about to drop down the first hill. Or sadly the lows where you feel absolutely nothing; just pure numbness and worthless. I am the sound of one hand clapping, I am the deepest recess of the darkest sea. All these things can come out of me!
I feel writing is extremely beneficial in any form. If you have a mental disorder you have a very unique perspective on life and it’s extremely valuable to people. Also it can help others struggling with mental illness when you write your honest feelings and experiences down.
I have a free app on my phone called Writer. This way when lines start coming into my head I can quickly jot them down no matter where I am.
Submit your written story or poem to Trish here who runs this blog and maybe it will even be published!
There was a startling flash in the sky, the day she let her freak flag fly
A loud resounding boom as all the tears she’d ever cried communed
She raised her arms and stretched her hands towards the swirling sky
Then brought them down swiftly
With an echoing shriek
The clouds released their salty downpour
Painting the ground around her in splashes of gold and pink
Gasping and whimpering she looked around
Faces stared back in shocked disbelief
She finally accepted that the stares never knew
The human tragedy she’d witnessed
The moments her whole heart was consumed
Grievous fights to release rage
Throwing people like rag dolls and yes her time came
She was thrown down an endless well
Of human struggles and tales to tell
Like homeless men whose life mission was that once a month
when a cheque brought their crack habit kicking
She sat under the bridge and smoked it with him
His dirty, scabbed hands passed her the can
“Make me clean, make me clean”
She whispers, “I can’t”
She lay sick in sweat
Watching vivid memories, like herself getting beat to the rhythm of death’s dubstep
Unable to sleep but just to watch
Watch as the nurses strapped her down real tight
Flinching as the restraints sucked away her will to fight
Watch as she ran away, assaulting an officer to not be apprehended that day
She watches as she sat by a couch, razor and blood is everywhere, all over herself
“I wanna wake up…..”
“You are awake”, she tells herself
A little girl in so much pain, unable to understand why she was not the same
They surrounded the one that was different and dove in ripping
Grinning sharks, teeth razor sharp
Her unraveling flesh delivered no resistance
She watches and listens as the thunder rumbles in the distance
No, these faces will never understand the depth;
the strength it takes your body to withstand
Blow after crushing blow
They discuss their trips and their carnival cruises, as she sits behind them feeling empty and useless
Here is her freak flag
She’s a survivor of her very soul’s molestation.
She doesn’t need to be them, she can never be them
Because she can’t undo
The scenes of her life are all a freak show for you
Her heart pounds as she stands
Shaking the rain out of her hair like fine gold sand
She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she can
She will be this person she desires to be
She is going to show you all what’s inside of me
Featured Image: ashley rose
Julie Everson enjoys writing, reading, scrabble and public speaking. She loves music and her favourite band is The Tragically Hip. She loves cooking and wishes she had a dishwasher. She is beginning her journey of sharing her story of her struggle with a personality disorder. She hopes to continue speaking and being an inspiration to people. She can be found on twitter at @trawker.
Julie is available to speak about mental health to a wide range of audiences in the Greater Toronto Area. You can book her through contacting CMHA director Neil Howard at firstname.lastname@example.org.
You can find more of Julie’s poetry at https://wolvesguardthegates.wordpress.com/.
To check out all of Julie’s guest posts on MHT, click here.