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The Low Mood

From the naked eye you see a smile

A delightful smile of a woman who has everything

What you don’t see are the bricks within the decorated walls

The bricks that weigh down her emotions

The bricks that fall on her heavy as she sleeps

You can’t see the bricks she holds within herself

So you judge, you assume, you scoff

It doesn’t hurt to be a little kind

For a mental health illness is heavy

Not a personal failure or a mistake

Mental health isn’t a means for ridicule

Mental health should be a means for recovery

 

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Forest Imagery

Allow your soul to feel the warmth of the summer air as you close your eyes and imagine an exotic beach surrounded by fields of sunflowers and dandelions dancing in alignment with the velvet green grass.

Your soul feels passion, it feels delight, it is the symphony of the milk way, an inner warmth that only you can feel.

Really close your eyes. Imagine the blazing hot sun shimmering between the trees separating the path from the shadows, forests of soilders standing guard of engraved copper caves watching over the sea guiding the ships and its sailors.

Imagine a safe spot within the forest where you can let go of your thoughts, a feeling of self-control and self-comfort listening to the echoes of natures most glorious species.

A lighthouse with a light bearing a ninety degree view of the soft white sand.

Breathe in an out slowly but deeply for five minutes whilst imaging the beauty of the forest. The forest by the shore.

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The Isolated Borderline

To the partners of the sufferer. I know how hard you try to help your loved one. I know how hard you try and make communication.

The days your loved one curls up in bed not ready to face the day whilst you put food on the table, the rapid mood swings with such emotional intensity that the sufferer feels devalued because they don’t want to feel that way.

They appreciate you. They love you millions. Even if they don’t show it. They are battling their inner demons crying out for help believing things would get better.

They switch goals easily, they’re depressed, they’re irritable but their social media profiles are full of selfies & posts of self-reflection. They’re expressing their pain so creatively.

The borderline doesn’t want to hurt you. They want to feel safe. They want to feel secure. They want to be able to live a happy life although their positive emotions don’t always reflect their inner mood.

The borderline senses danger. Their minds are in constant flight and fight response because their memories have been moulded to fit in with their most painful experiences. Those who have felt the most pain always know how to love because they know what the opposite is.

Opposites attract. Love releases a chemical called oxytocin within the same brain region that affects the borderline.

Trust me when I say this but she loves you.

She loves you with her heart although she let’s go or tries to keep you when she senses a threat. A threat that you will walk away and find someone else but she passionately tries to avoid to cry herself to the point of self-destruction.

Don’t intend to hurt her because the symptoms will magnify.

Love her as you would yourself; (both men & women)

Break down the stigma. He/she is brave. She has a talent. Help her find it ♡

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Our Creation (poem)

The souls thunder is a memory of defeat

From the enemy that portrayed the darkest hour

It crushes, rejects, the opinions of those who care

For the purpose of money & for the purpose of war

A delicate world on the brink of collapse

Sins magnified and ignorance replenished

The destruction of death

Until it’s too late to make change

We will never know

What peace feels like in the brink of madness

Because selfishness is destructive and may encapsulate your deepest fears

Love is the opposite, therefore opposites attract

Do not compare, or argue with a broken soul

Understand and help them instead

To learn from another is to be re-born

To create a simple future

And a positive world

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The anxiety awakens (poem)

I shiver in my night dress

Windows open and curtains flowing

Hearing the rain patter ever so gently on the window sill

A body frozen in the present moment

A mind that wanders into the inevitable past

A brain that squelches beneath the skull

A yawn that is icy and has no echo

Everything is still

Everything is silent

I’m frozen in time

So I wait for a rescuer

Except my soul is cold

My soul is broken

You can see my smile

But you can’t see the shiver in my vertebrae

Who are you to judge?

Do you feel the same way?

Maybe not…

Or maybe so…

Help me in a way that you’d help yourself

Crying. Lonely. Shaking.

No one there for comfort

 

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The Wishing Glass

Wash up a glass sauce jar, cut up little pieces of scrap paper and draw a face on them with the mood you are in three times a day at the same hour for two weeks. Write the date and come back to the jar a few weeks later.

What does the paper say about your moods?

Is there a specific time when you feel more better during the day? Keep a record and write down a list of your abilities, your hobbies and your potential.

Learn new creative skills and share your experiences with others ♡

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Does it matter what others think about us?

As a borderline I often worry about what others think of me. How they see my image. How they see me as me. Are they able to see my struggles although more often than not I’m met with – you look fine. You’re okay.

You tend to look deeper at your inner self at this point and overanalyse and overthink pushing yourself into oblivion, pushing yourself into the face of adversity looking at your flaws and giving them a label like your diagnosis which isn’t really healthy.

I suppose living with borderline personality disorder is a bit like watching a movie. You cry, you laugh, you’re just like others but with this big passionate personality bursting out in the environment. It’s like our brains are programmed to be too empathetic that gives us the feeling of isolation, that gives us the feeling we must be more adult with our emotions.

Honestly though. Do you think the cave men said right, that person’s got a mental health problem we don’t want them. No. Maybe some yes but overall no. The only priority back then was good, safety and water. Additionally, which I must say… we still adopt the same behaviours and have the same views to teach us how to respond to the environment. Our reptile brains still exist and technology is advancing faster than our brains can cope with. Technology is a beautiful source but it’s still used inappropriately, to judge, to bully, to allow ourselves to misguide ourselves through endless thoughts because there’s always a comparison. Always a sense of fear or threat because people can write their opinions on a platform which is largely based on opinion than fact.

 

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Early Sunrise 🌅

The sea blue light of the early hour

Awakens the nests within the trees

A slight breeze and a heavy yawn

The transition from dusk to dawn

Hold the hour at which you wake

Appreciate the day that lies before you

Tomorrow isn’t here yet

We only have today

Today to make change

Today to help one another

Today to start fresh

The sun and the moon rise through storm and hail

At the same speed and the same rotation

You’ll never see our biggest shared assets fall

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Self-reflection and creative ideas

Many people ask me where my creative ideas come from. They come from my experience, the come from the fireworks of chemicals zapping through my fragile mind.

Am I ashamed of this? No. Why should I be?

Its not about what is wrong with us, it’s about how we can improve our own mental health and wellbeing without affecting those around us. We all can’t have the same opinions. It’s like when people judge your past and assume you would grow up to be a negative individual searching for more pain to add to your life that you’ve already experienced.

This isn’t true. If it was – nearly everyone would have broken down and lost themselves completely by now. Sometimes we don’t even realise our strengths until we are thrust in the darkness, neglected, having that ambition for a better and prosperous life.

Keep going. Because it will happen.

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Your anxiety breathes

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety.

How it gives the false illusion you are drowning in your past experiences, drowning in the foundations of what shaped you, playing cricket with the chemicals within your brain – seemingly excusing yourself from all social activities making yourself appear socially enept but  sociable through writing. Writing gives you reassurance. It gives you a creative spark. It is the hope that will set you free from the demons on earth. The demons are silent.

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The Narcissist’s Daughter

This is her story.

She was observant, with a kind nature and an eccentric personality. Her face was a pale white and her hair a smoky brown. Her blue-grey eyes glistened through shreds of broken glass, broken glass that correlated with her fragmented self esteem. She was not a narcissist but she had traits of narcissm from her father.

Her father was a businessman who had a charming and proactive front but would act aggressively to those who crossed his path. Money meant everything to him. He wanted fame. He wanted luxury. He wanted his daughter to be ‘just like him.’ A clone. She often stepped on eggshells to avoid exposing her father’s weak side – the side where he would project his opinions into the placid mind of his daughter who fought so effortlessly for peace. Peace within her surroundings. Her dissociation began as a toddler. Whatever she experienced in her early years affected her personal development except her memories had not been remembered so she wondered through life, with empathy, holding pain on her shoulders for the world to see. She kept a strong face because she knew. She knew she could read other’s hidden motives. She knew of the stigmatisation of the vulnerable exterior except her father had a vulnerable interior. She knew her father had an illness and understood his but he could never understand hers.

 

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The protagonist

I speak with thunder

I speak with thought

I lost who I was

Distressed and distraught

I expressed my story

I untangled my woes

Will my story end with a cliffhanger?

The question is Who Know’s?