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”

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”

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”

The 5th Time I Was Misdiagnosed | Living with BPD

Disclaimer: This poem DOES NOT mean you shouldn’t go to therapy! In fact, EVERYONE should go to therapy! However, if you think there is even a SLIGHT chance you have a personality disorder, GO TO AN EXPERT. Not a general therapist. Don’t make the same mistake I made 5 times. It took an expert 6 months to fully diagnose what 5+ years of various forms of therapy couldn’t even guess.

If you are a therapist, please read (or scroll) to the end for signs/clues you should know regarding the 9 symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder.


When it happens 5 times,

You’re pretty sure it’s reality.

You must just be evil.

You must just be broken.

You must just be worthless.

It isn’t a disorder,

It’s you.

That was the fear.

No, not a fear —

That was the reality.

A reality. 

Continue reading “The 5th Time I Was Misdiagnosed | Living with BPD”

Gemela & #1 Amiga | Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

Spanish word meaning: “twin sister”

Dear Gemela,

I love you.

You are like a sister to me.

Not “like” a sister,

My twin sister.

Always on my side,

Against anyone who’s not.

You always have been.

Even since we met,

Since I was a sad,

Angry,

Broken child.

You were the bright light,

The brightness in Utah’s clouds.

Continue reading “Gemela & #1 Amiga | Living with Borderline Personality Disorder”

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?

Free-Write to Coax Repressed Memory (Traumatic Dissociation)

I can’t quite reach it

I’m hitting up against a wall

If only it was physical

Not a wall in my mind. . .

Continue reading “Free-Write to Coax Repressed Memory (Traumatic Dissociation)”