July 3, 2010

Seven Days of Sunset ~ Day 7… Closing Words: Part 2…

Posted in recovery tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , at 2:04 pm by eddejae

When you hold on to your past, you impede your progress.

The greatest thing you can do for yourself is to forgive yourself and to let go so you can move forward. This often the hardest and last step. It was for me.

Ultimately, you make the choice of how you want your life to be. No matter what has happened in your past, you can change your life. Make the decision. Right now. Decide to take responsibility from this moment on for who you become.

Start where you are. This moment. Stop waiting for a miracle.

I realized it wasn’t God that was punishing me. I was punishing myself for things that had happened and things I had no control over. At least not anymore. Living in the past does nothing. So I let it go and chose to begin a new chapter.

I gave myself the power back. I took the power away from my past, from my mistakes, from my abusers, from depression, from BPD, and gave it back to myself. I chose to rise above. When you accept what has happened and relinquish yourself from undeserved blame and guilt, while taking appropriate responsibility for your actions – you become empowered again. You are able to let go of the burdens of the past. You are able to forgive yourself and move forward.

This is what happened for me, after years and years of blaming myself, of striving for unattainable perfection, of feeling guilty for everything I did.

Now I am moving on. Putting my past behind me, only taking what I have learned so that I may use it to bless my life and those around me.

I can allow myself to be happy now. To live, freely.

I can be me.

Perfectly imperfect.

Day by day, step by step, I’ve become a little more unbroken.

And though sometimes I fall… I’m forever falling forward…


April 15, 2010


Posted in recovery tagged , , , , , , , , , , at 1:17 am by eddejae

Trapped in a prison built by betraying hands,

Brick by burdensome brick.

My mind, traitor to my abandoned heart,

Slave to a captor concealed –

Cruel taskmaster brandishing whip unseen,

But felt with every serpent-like sting –

Tiring arms aching,

Hunching back breaking,

Pleading for the abiding asylum of death.

Tick…Tock… Tick… Talk…

Talk… Talk…. Talking…

Ceaseless talking of sing-song voices

Creeping in with winter night’s chill,

Cracking the concrete silence.

Slip… Slip… Slipping…

Senses swiftly slipping and sliding

Into a murky sea of suspicion and suspense.

Blood-stained fingernails tear

Frantically at four unyielding palisades –

Crimson blood reminds me that life

Yet runs relentless through each vein.

A splinter of light slices through the blackness –

One suggestive breach in the barricade,

The two-faced fortress cloistering me from the world,

Safeguarding an unsuspecting world from me.

Peering through the porthole to that alternate reality:

A flashback from a forgotten existence made flesh…

One face.

Mere footsteps away and yet a lifetime apart,

As close as my heartbeat, as far as the stars.

You cannot see me here in my solitary cell,

Yet I know you feel my piercing, sunlight-starved eyes

Sifting softly through the unspoken secrets of your soul.

One smile, one glance, one sincere utterance,

And without warning, the cleft in the facade

Cracks open just an inch more, taunting me

To pry at the edges with bruised and burning fingertips.

A triangle of radiance paints itself on the opposite wall,

A breath of blossom-tinted breeze satiates my thirsty lungs.

The schism in my shelter of suffering is still

Too slight to squeeze through, and, disheartened,

No – furious! I pound my tight-clenched fists,

Beating myself against the blood-stained bricks

Against the cursed lies, the sordid secrets, the broken vows.

I fabricated this suffocating prison, my strength and will

Brutally born of hate, of anger, of pain –

Where is my power now to shatter it’s very frame?

I wail aloud and in spirit, tearing beast-like at my hair.

And Sink….Sink…Sinking…

Into an absymal void of despair.

Phantasms of the raging flames of hell

Consume my cluttered brain –

Demon fear incarnate mutters

That you will leave me here alone,

Dismiss my illusive phantom-like presence,

Forget you heard me, perhaps even loved me…

I, the shadow of a shattered dream.

I cannot bear to witness through my window

A paradise I may never know.

I cannot endure you walking away,

Fading into the hopeless horizon,

Wishing to hold you forever in my gaze.

I cradle my head in empty and aching arms,

Drowning in my loneliness and shame.

Then, as subtle and soft as an echo from afar,

I hear you call my name –

Once. But no… But yes! And once again.

Tears of redemption making rivers down my face,

I drag myself up to the once- impenetrable barrier…

You are standing there still, unwavering, waiting for me.

Inspired anew with yet-hesitant hope and timid longing,

I close my sun-stunned eyes, and whisper an

Imperfect prayer sincere.

For seeming centuries, I search my heart, my soul –

I reach my hands into the welcoming light,

Breathe in the life-awakening crispness of

Air washed clean by April rains,

And remember. And forget.

Forgive. Find. Let go. Catch. Lose. Regain…

And finally…love.

The suffocating bricks crumble around my feet,

Baring my pale head to the firmament above.

Glory envelops me –

I gasp in the first breath of new life,

And Run…Run…Running…

Feet barely realizing the ground –

Soaring straight into your outstretched arms,

Once empty, now forever filled

By everything that I am and will be…

I am free.

March 18, 2010

Blast from the Past

Posted in recovery tagged , , , , , , , , , at 5:54 pm by eddejae

I have been putting off writing this entry all day. I didn’t feel emotionally capable of writing anything yesterday either, which is why I resorted to posting a song (which is one of my favorites). I’ve had a lot of different emotions coursing through me, many thoughts twirling around in my head… But I’m having difficulty putting a name to them or defining their source. I have that trouble sometimes. I will be feeling a certain way and I can’t figure out why.

For example, when I have my “homesick” feeling. It’s not an actual homesickness – that is just how I described it as a very young child. It is an acute, throbbing pain somewhere below my heart but above my stomach (I actually think this is called the “solar plexus” if you want to get technical… I just learned that term a few days ago haha). That’s the physical aspect of it – the accompanying emotion can only be described as a deep “longing” of sorts. I remember first experiencing this when I was three years old, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It still persists, and I have yet to figure out exactly what it is and where it comes from. It strikes at seemingly random times and is the worst feeling in the world. It almost feels like I’m sinking rapidly into a never-ending pit. I’ve just come to accept that it happens… I just wish I understood it.

Anyways, I just feel kind of melancholy today. Not a depressive melancholy… more a contemplative one, where I just feel mellow and thoughtful. Though I can honestly say I haven’t thought very about much today… Well, not purposely (there’s always an inner dialogue going on in the background of my mind which can be either so loud as to drown out everything else or as quiet as a faint whisper…depending on the day). I almost feel like my thoughts and emotions are “digesting” today, if that makes any sense. But I’ve been avoiding writing, probably because I can’t put my finger on exactly what’s going on in that unpredictable brain of mine, and I’m worried about what might come out once I put my fingers to the keyboard.

Well, as you can see, nothing too drastic has happened yet, but it might soon once I finally do what I avoided doing last night – writing about an experience I had stumbling upon something from my past. I was going through my documents on my laptop, cleaning up and organizing, etc. I came across a folder called “Received Files” that I had never noticed before. Another folder was stored under that one called “History.” Hm. So I opened that one to find the entire transcript of a very long instant message conversation that took place a year and a half ago with my boyfriend at the time. Against my better judgment (maybe), I read it. All of it.

It was painful. So painful in fact, that I spaced out for several minutes and freaked out my mom a bit. It brought back a lot of thoughts, feelings, fears, etc. that I had been feeling at that time in my life, most of which I understand now to be the symptoms of BPD raging their ugly heads. The pain I felt as I read it was from utter disgust with myself. Well, disgust is probably too strong of a word, but I was in complete shock with the things that I said in this particular conversation. And this was but one conversation. I could recall many similar conversations, some much, much worse, in which I had taken one little thing this guy said, misunderstood or twisted it (unintentionally, mind you), and then strongly reacted to it. The poor guy hadn’t even said anything out of line, but it seemed I took it completely the wrong way and fought tooth-and-nail as if it had been a giant monster ready to devour me. As my eyes scanned the words exchanged – him trying to explain what he had meant and reassure me, with me simultaneously accusing him of not loving me and threatening to call everything off – I was stunned at just how obvious my insecurities and fears are, how terrified of rejection I am. I took one perceived criticism, saw it as a very real threat of abandonment, and lost grasp of all reality.

After reading this, I felt incredibly ashamed, and sorry for what I had put this guy through. Then, I realized something very big and very important. I was seeing it. I could see where I had misunderstood. I could see how I reacted. I could see that the way I was talking and behaving was irrational (though at the time, it was perfectly rational to me). I could see my struggle with BPD being played out right in front of me. This was a major sign to me that I have come far since then, that I am much more in touch with reality now that I can identify my own problematic behaviors. I could never have seen it back then – the pain, the fear, the insecurity…that was my reality in the moment. Now, I can see what actually happened in that conversation. Things are a lot clearer.  And even though while reading it, I could still feel the intense pain that the conversation caused, I understood more of where it was coming from and that it wasn’t me. It’s not my fault that I behaved so irrationally and hurtfully. Now, I’m not saying I shouldn’t take responsibility for what transpired, but I understand that the root cause was my disorder in all its complexities, not some fundamental flaw in me.

Now if I can only look at other things that happened in my past in that same light… I might be well on my way towards forgiving myself, for not hating myself, for not acting out the loathing I carry deep inside for the mistakes I have made and for the people I have hurt. That’s going to take a long time… Even after that breakthrough in separating me from my illness, I am still going back and forth in my mind about it… That voice in my head that tells me I’m a horrible person and that I should feel ashamed for everything, ashamed for even being alive, is so loud. Maybe that’s what I’ve been fighting all day, and just didn’t realize it. In any event, I think this was a very important step, regardless of whether my mind and emotions want to accept it yet or not.

Well, I did it. I wrote about it. I did what I’ve been running from all day.

I guess it wasn’t so bad in the end.