I’ve spent 11 years running from my diagnosis. I’ve tried to conceal my truth, hoping I could will it away.  I didn’t want it.  My biological mother has it and she abandoned her children.  I’m nothing like her, so it’s not possible that I have borderline personality disorder.  

I’ve been seeing my current therapist for a little over a year now.  Let’s call him Wolverine, because he has a beard like a lumberjack and who wouldn’t want to be part of X-Men?!  Wolverine was aware of my previous diagnosis and my feelings about it on our first visit. He’s been very respectful and has not pushed it. I have tried to hold back, but the man is very good at calling me on my bullshit. Over the last few months, he’s brought up the word borderline.  Tonight, I had another episode.  My husband texted Wolverine (I giggle every time I type that out and if you’re reading this, at least I picked an awesome mutant for you!) We ended up on speakerphone. The conclusion is that if I want to get better, I can’t ignore it anymore.  I want to get better, so I am acknowledging my truth.  Wolverine and Josh, thank you for not leaving when I’ve tried to push you both far away.

My name is Erika and I live with BPD. 



That’s the view of Lake Ouachita from my campsite. I took an impromptu trip back home for Mother’s Day camping. I love it out here. The kids are gathering wood while I get the fire going.  I did the same with my dad out here many times when I was a child. 

Truth is, they’re playing in the water.  

We needed this. 

I needed this. 

dear prince charming

My kids are my entire life. Without them, Mother’s Day would be the holiday to drown myself in booze, have a breakdown, and end up in jail for public intox.  You try to have me committed on Mother’s Day weekend?!!  I swear on every fucking star in our galaxy that if I’m separated from my kids on Mother’s Day, it WILL be the worst day of your fucking life.  You only give a shit about my mental health when it gains sympathy for YOU. Well, fuck you.

Your covert narcissistic white knight syndrome can stay the fuck away from me. 

Fuck off.

2:32 am

You know this is for you.  Don’t worry, I won’t tell them your name.  I’ll just call you Ghost. It’s fitting because you vanished 17 months ago. I don’t see you, but I’m haunted by you.  I didn’t mean to love you, but you made it so damn easy.  I wonder if hurting me was just as easy?  You were my best friend and you walked away with no explanation.  I didn’t get to say goodbye. You hurt my kids. They loved you too.  I’m thankful you didn’t break them like you broke me. You needed me and I needed you. I welcomed you into my home. I made my home yours too.  I woke up to your midnight sadness.  I stayed awake with you and held you when your pain was too much.  I gave you all of me and you took it. You gutted me and left me hollowed, alone.  

As hard as I try, I can’t unlove you. 

oh, chris young.

Have you ever heard a song that took the breath out of your chest?  This one has that effect on me:

Music is pretty fucking powerful. Songs are stories and often the story is the listener’s own truth.  There aren’t many elements in the universe that can provoke an emotional response from me quite like a song can.  

I’m going to assume that most people who connect to this song think of a current or past love when it comes on.  Today is your lucky day!  I’m not most people 🙂

This song makes me think of my mom.  Yes, you read that word corrrctly.  M-O-M.  I have two main moms; my birth mom and my adoptive mom.  This song is about my birth mom. She was around the first four years of my life and has sporadically been in my life since I was a teenager.  When I was just a little girl, she left my dad.  She left my big brother and my little sister.  She left me.  We heard from her on occasions such as birthdays and Christmas.  She sent us letters, cards, and gifts for a few years after she took off. The only reason we knew her location was because of the postage.  We had mail from California mostly, but there would also be Colorado and Montana marked mail.  Montana is her home state.  Her love interests and drugs were in California, but she loved Colorado.  One day, I’ll tell you about my mom connection to the song Colder Weather, but that’s a different post. One day, we didn’t get the mail anymore. Life happened and my dad’s new wife adopted us. Mom was not allowed in our lives anymore because her instability hurt us too much. We also had begun to talk about the abuse we suffered at her hands when we were little.  She really hurt us, but the only thing bigger than that hurt was my love for her and my desire to have my mom.   

As soon as I turned 18, I reconnected with her.  That may have been a mistake.  For the past 12 years, we’ve had a very toxic relationship. I’ve demanded answers that she felt she was not obligated to give me. It was my life that she fucked up, so I think she could at least tell me why she left me.  I still have no answers from her. We have gone months and years without speaking. She has said horrible things to me.  She still hurt me.  But I still wanted her. 

Tomorrow I’m gonna leave here. I’m gonna let you go and walk away like every day I said I would.  Tomorrow, I’m gonna listen to that voice of reason inside my head telling me that we’re no good.

Tomorrow I’ll be stronger, I‘m not gonna break down and call you up when my heart cries out for you.  Tomorrow, you won’t believe it, but when I pass your house, I won’t stop no matter how bad I want to.

Holy shit, that’s my entire thought process when it comes to my mom. It’s a great example of head vs heart. That voice of reason inside my head exists, but so does that heart crying out for her.  

When we’re good, you know we’re great, but there’s too much bad for us to think that there’s anything worth trying to save.

Tonight I’m gonna give in one last time, rock you strong in these arms of mine, and forget all the regrets that are bound to follow.  

We’re like fire and gasoline; I’m no good for you, you’re no good for me. We only bring each other tears and sorrow but tonight, I’m gonna love you like there’s no tomorrow.

We’re like fire and gasoline. We’re no good for each other. You hurt me and I hurt you back.  The only thing that ever comes of us is pain. 

But I keep going back.  I forgive her, but forgiveness isn’t enough. I need to know why she left. I need to know why she stopped writing.  I need to know why she signed us over.  Was I not enough?  Was I not worthy of her love?  She had so many chances to be my mom and she walked away every single time.  To this day, I still struggle with fear that anyone who loves me will leave me.  If my own mother couldn’t love me enough to stay, how could anyone else?  

But I keep loving her.  I keep trying.  I keep hurting.  I have tried to let her go, but I can’t. I still need her.  

tonight, i drown

This is a revision of a post that I wrote a few hours ago, but I just made it private. It tells of my brokenness and it is a full blown suicide note.  No one reads this anyway, so I could have just left it up. Clearly, I did not follow through.  This doesn’t mean I’m okay, because the urge is present.  

It’s become too much. I’m drowning and I’m not sure if there’s any hope left for air. I am scared. 

Please just let me sink. 


The wreckage of her soul is poetic. 

Her verses cascade from her eyes

in iambic pentameter.

Her survival

is a fiery resilience,

that engulfs her parchment;

each page set aflame 

and extinguished in her storm.

There is beauty

in how she rises from her ruins,

in the midst of her own destruction.

i am responsible for my own haunting

On days like this,
I am the house and
the ghost,
responsible for my own haunting.

My brain is a revolver
with, “Am I good enough?”
in every chamber.

So I turn into a factory that
only makes the word “yes”
and I say it until I can easily

Mistake it for the truth,
but my voice shakes
and the answer still sounds
like a question.

Written by the incredibly talented Rudy Francisco

meds, margaritas, and nude monday

Fuck the meds.  That’s really all I have to say.  I busted my ass to lose weight after my divorce. I lost over 35 pounds. I weighed in heavier than I’ve ever been in my life today. I gained it back and then some. My friends told me I would gain on my medicine.  Fuck the meds.  They aren’t helping anyway.  They took a cheek swab for genetic testing today, so maybe they’ll figure out something that works for me soon. 

“Hey, I’m depressed as fuck.”

“Here, take these pills. They will help you feel better.”

Gains a shit ton of weight, while already depressed.

It’s bullshit!  Fuck the meds. 

Serious shit aside, do you want to hear something funny?

Today, I had two appointments. The second was with the doctor about my psych meds.  It was my yearly evaluation. Between the appointments, I went to lunch with some good people. I was feeling shitty and I was kid free, so I thought fuck it, I’ll get a margarita.  Wellllll, it was huge and the bartender must have sensed that I needed a little extra happiness because it was the strongest one I’ve ever tasted.  When I complimented her margarita making skills, she brought me another.  By the time I left, I was feeling a bit tipsy. I wasn’t drunk. I was just feeling weightless and goofy. That’s when I remembered my appointment LOL!!  I showed up. I was paranoid that everyone looking at me was questioning my sobriety.  Somehow, I got through the appointment without giving myself away. For those of you who actually read this, I was not driving. 

If you’re curious about the title of this post, here ya go:

My cousin/best mom friend ever sent this to me. Best Monday text ever. Sadly, I wore clothes most of the day. 

This entire post has been ridiculously pointless, but I can’t sleep. Maybe I’ll craft until I crash.