What am I going to tell my daughter about you?
You – the scaly serpent who slipped
into our garden through the hole in the fence
You, who slithered in unwelcomed and left nothing but
fear in my chest.
You, who turned my little girl’s dream into a nightmare.
You turned our dream into a nightmare.
Turned our lives upside down with your hissing
Turned my world inside out with your biting -
words don’t do you justice.
Cold. Callous. Coward.
You don’t deserve a page in our story but you left no room for me to
write anything else.
She was only sixteen months old when you
robbed her of a mother,
struck me down with your venomous kiss.
Left your mark on my breast -
painted my body necrotic with your touch,
bruises, black like mold, only growing in the dark.
What am I going to tell my daughter about the day you
wrapped yourself around me?
The day you opened your jaw and swallowed me whole -
That she was playing at daycare while her mother screamed,
Am I gonna tell her that she was the only thing on my mind?
Just she and I, surviving, this.
How am I ever going to find the words to tell her about your aftermath?
About her every latch taking me back to your lips –
Breastfeeding was supposed to be beautiful.
It was supposed to be a bond but you
severed it with one spineless action.
I can still see the pattern of the skin you molted on my floor.
I can still feel the sharp sting of your fangs.
The noose of your grip on my neck may never loosen.
I swear I can still hear your rattle.
You still give me cotton mouth.
You, treacherous viper; bottomless pit.
What do I tell her about you?
Imagine having BPD just for a day. Imagine seeing life through the eyes of someone with this disorder…
Someone thinks you’re ‘needy’, with BPD; you just need to know you’re loved.
A person points out your flaws, with BPD, you already know your flaws, you obsess about them, all of the time.
Someone tries to encourage you by pointing out how you could improve on something, with BPD, you only hear the words, ‘you’re a failure.’
Somebody doesn’t ring you when they said they would, with BPD this means they’ve abandoned you.
Somebody asks what you could possibly have to be depressed about, with BPD, you now feel ashamed for feeling this way.
Someone tells you to stop being so negative, with BPD, this only intensifies how you feel.
People tell you that the bad days will pass; with BPD you feel that they don’t understand.
Someone tells you that they’re too busy to see you; with BPD it means that you have become a burden on them.
Someone changes your routine; with BPD they’ve upturned your world.
Look again at somebody with BPD, what is it you see now?