When Borderline Meets a Narcissist

Her memory takes hold,

When I never held her.

Magnetism drew us together,

Palpable at first encounter.

Our obstructive accompaniment,

Could never survive either’s journey.

Objectively knowing?

Does nothing for the heart.

Continue reading “When Borderline Meets a Narcissist”

I’m Crazy, Not Stupid | Living with BPD


If only I would’ve been stupid,

It would’ve been unable to hide.

If therapists could’ve read my mind,

The diagnosis would’ve been easy.

Those 10 years of decay,

My symptoms were right there,

Finally reached the surface.

I’m not stupid,

But I was lifeless.

Continue reading “I’m Crazy, Not Stupid | Living with BPD”

How I Knew I Was a Lesbian at 4 Years Old


As my teacher explained God’s plan,

I remember these specific thoughts:

“That’s not me, I’m not in Heaven,

Why aren’t two married girls there?”

Prior to my initial homophobic trauma at 4 years old,

I had to have known I was exclusively attracted to girls,

Otherwise it would not have been severely traumatic.

So I must have known prior to it,

Even right before that moment,

But what was the actual feeling?

Continue reading “How I Knew I Was a Lesbian at 4 Years Old”

My Mind is Under New Management | Living with BPD & Bipolar


You did your job,

You protected the child.

You’re too good at your job,

I’m not a child anymore.

Continue reading “My Mind is Under New Management | Living with BPD & Bipolar”

Cruel | Homophobic Trauma Recovery using Buddhism

What a cruel thing to do:

Making love look disgusting.

Something I had to avoid,

At all and every cost.


I refused it,

Just like you told me.

I hated it,

Just like you wanted.

Buried it deep down inside,

Extinguished it within me.

Continue reading “Cruel | Homophobic Trauma Recovery using Buddhism”

The Power of a Correct Diagnosis | Living with BPD


I was misdiagnosed 5 times,

Confirming my soul was evil.

A single correct diagnosis?

Freed me from the delusion.

Like flipping a light switch,

My pain had a purpose.

Continue reading “The Power of a Correct Diagnosis | Living with BPD”

Not Forgotten, Hidden | 9 BPD Symptoms: Dissociative Amnesia

Author’s Note: Terms matter. Words have deeper meanings than letters strung together for a common understanding. Language affects the very way humans perceive the world. That’s why everyone (including myself) should learn a new language vastly different than our native tongues — who knows what we could unlock!

“Dissociative symptoms are common in Borderline Personality Disorder, including memory loss (dissociative amnesia) for certain time periods, events, and people.” [Source]


Memory loss was called:

“Repressed memory.”

Reach in somewhere,

Grab something,

Stuck someplace,

Yank it forward.

THAT IS NOT IT.

Continue reading “Not Forgotten, Hidden | 9 BPD Symptoms: Dissociative Amnesia”

Apology to Bisexual Women | Lesbian & Queer Community Issue

[This poem addresses an ongoing issue within queer inter-communities. Straight people: Please read if you are interested, but also realize you won’t have cultural context.]

After my coming out, all the responses from my bisexual friends were incredibly powerful. I felt so much love towards them — but then…guilt? I was confused, why was I feeling guilty? All the memories I had with these bisexual friends were happy ones, not trauma! I meditated about it and immediate free-wrote the below poem.

As a lesbian, I want to make this clear: Historically, our community has not been welcoming to bisexual women. This needs to stop. This needs to stop now. 

I cannot ask that you, bisexual women, forgive me for my past. But you deserve an apology.

I love bisexual women. But there was a time when I didn’t. 

I was jealous of them.

So I wrote a poem about it. . .

Continue reading “Apology to Bisexual Women | Lesbian & Queer Community Issue”

If you want to know me, read my poetry

I could write a million stanzas,

And still not convey what I mean.


“If you want to know me,

Read my poetry.”

Is that it? Is that all? 

Do you know me now?

Perhaps you know me as much as you can,

From a one-sided conversation.


What’s the point of it, then?

Of poetry, or the written word at all?

When it’s one person speaking,

And another one listening along?


Is that a human connection?

One person listens to another.

Is that the reason we write?

Or is it just the start?