Don't Know

I don't know how to be here. I don't know how to sit with you. To whisper the dark, bloody secrets. Bile floods my brain and I'm left wondering why I am so very insane. Maybe when I figure out how to stop running away from myself I'll know how to be here for you.

Talking about talking

I don't know what to give you. I'm not sure how to plug in and tug up all the bile, thoughts, truths and realities of the last few weeks. Life has been spinning as it's want to do. There have been moments of lovely, road blocks, missing trains, sledge hammers of crazy, good, bad and ugly. All mixed in with summer heat, trying to stay on my feet, and yes starting DBT. 

It amazes me to see Borderline grow. I want to share the map, tell the tales. I feel like I'm skipping out, holding back and just running away.  I plan to make a scheduled over the next few days for when I'll be posting up dates. 

Currently planned post are: 

• 350 Pounds of Fun (or My Body, My Way)
• The World Outside My Bedroom (or Fields of Green) 
• Dates for One (or Maybe/Sometimes Happy) 
• DBT + Therapy: Including homework, the diary card and other twisted things. 
• After Math (or scraps of paper that still linger in my backpack) 
• Leveling up: Finishing at NAIT and plans for the future. 
• Book Reviews on (in no order)

The Angry Heart

Overcoming Borderline and Addictive Disorders : An Interactive Self-help Guide

By Santoro, Joseph

Borderline Personality Disorder

The Facts By Krawitz, Roy

The Borderline Personality Disorder Survival Guide

Everything You Need to Know about Living with BPD By Chapman, Alexander L. 

 

Don't Let your Emotions Run your Life

How Dialectical Behavior Therapy Can Put You in Control By Spradlin, Scott E.

Overcoming Borderline Personality Disorder

A Family Guide for Healing and Change By Porr, Valerie

Siren's Dance

My Marriage to A Borderline : A Case Study By Walker, Anthony

Sometimes I Act Crazy

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder By Kreisman, Jerold J.

Borderline Personality Disorder for Dummies

By Elliott, Charles H.

The Buddha & the Borderline

My Recovery from Borderline Personality Disorder through Dialectical Behavior Therapy, Buddhism, & Online Dating By Van Gelder, Kiera

I Hate You-- Don't Leave Me

By Kreisman, Jerold J. 

The Dialectical Behavior Therapy Skills Workbook 

By McKay, Matthew  

Thank you for being here, for reading, for loving me anyway. It's not easy, but I am glad to be taking this walk. If you have a topic you'd like me to discus in an upcoming post, a book for me to review or any other suggestions or comment please share them.

Give you (Scraps)

My limbs are stiff with rage, pent up and locked in to place. Salty tears burn my skin and I try to remind myself that hitting isn't an option. That my fist doesn't need to smash into the computer screen. I don't want to be confined to the screen. I want bloody lips, slow dancing, loud screaming, rock chucking. 

But, we don't always get what we want. The truths that manage to sneak themselves in always amaze me. The stilted awkwardness is creeping in. Some conversations are best had over fire, on the beach, while in bed... In need more mediums. Maybe. 

The end of this post got lost in internet mishaps, and while I figure that is okay - I wanted to share the start of the spin that lead to me spending 24+ hours at NAIT.

*sish* Love me anyway? 

Wanted, Words .. and You.

I wanted to give you words, instead you'll get fragments. You don't have to follow all the jump cuts, just try to follow. As always, try to love me anyway. Maybe. 

I find it oh, so, funny how much I enjoy saying maybe. Quietly under my breath or scrawled repeatedly in the middle of letters. Tell me maybe and I'll want to scream. Use okay when I need you to use yes or no and it will cut me. And yet, will drag under my skin when someone else utters it at the wrong time. Such simple words a long forged stumbling block, and yet ... maybe, oookay. They've turned into rhythms under my tongue, offer flesh in angled black text for my teeth to chew on. They slipped in when I wasn't looking and turned in to a cloak. 

I often ask too many questions. Bright and dazzling questions that sear a little going in and coming out. Soft and cloudy questions that nudge. Bold and clunky questions that often get lost from their throat to my ears. Sometimes I am very good at playing the get to know you game and yet, oh and how, other times I simply am not. 

I started getting scared of this platform. I'm not sure when I stopped being willing to dance naked, to just simply fill the space with the raw, the aw and all the rest.  Guilt started coloring my already crooked lenses. Who was I to sit here and spiral out of control for the world to see?  Who was ever going to fall in love with me, when right here laid bare was the worst of me. How could I let the people who do love me read about the dark, ugly parts of me. I already make it so hard for them to love me, how could I make it harder? 

The silence was so overwhelming. Structure never really applied. How was I to bridge all the gaps, keep a proper record with out having people wanting to send in the guards? Was I prideful to think that I could spin this? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't really want to know. I want to believe better of myself. I don't want to look at Borderline and cringe at my youth, at the follies, at the blunders, at the pits, at the highs. 

I'm looking at Borderline and trying to figure out how to awkwardly embrace it until the awkward fades to grace. 

There are so many things I can't tell you. Not because I don't want to, but because I simply do not know. However, I can tell you that my name is Katrine, I'm 23 and before my 24th birthday I'll have started DBT.

As I was trying to find away to close this post I decided to look back in the archives to see if I had written an entry on June 23, 2010.  I did.  In fact on June 23, 2010 I almost gave up on the idea of Borderline, on finding Katrine. I almost let myself slip away. My mother, the unbreakable , remember? She left me a comment thanking me for taking a step towards me. I know I haven't shown you all the steps from that night to this moment, but I know I've taken some big ones. 

I also know that on that night, I couldn't have even begin to describe all the wonders the next 365 days had in store for me. So...

Dear Katrine,

If you happen to look back in a year, wondering if it was worth it. If your mind is full of questions. Be still for a moment and know. Think back to the magic of  listening to Can't Go Back Now on repeat, how you had pretty hair, how you didn't have to see your smile to feel it. Picture it all, and know that if you could love yourself in that moment, you can do it again. You will do it again. Let the moments filter back in, and know that part of why I can love you in this moment right now is the same reason I could love you back then.

I promise you that you will figure this out, if you haven't already. After all we are richly blessed. 

Love,

Katrine.

~ ~ ~

As for the rest of you, thank you for being apart of the story.

One side of the coin

I'm just one side of the coin, and yet as my skin is flushed and the cool breeze isn't enough - I am left wondering if it should be more oh me and less oh you. Will I always be offering more words, more push, just more? As I still 'pay the price' for an amazing weekend - that managed to flash by with few wobbly moments, I can't help gasp at the thought, that I might not see any of you, or just you for over 6 months .

Am I the only one who is feeling heart broken? Did I set us up for failure when I pointed out you knew where to find me, if you wanted to say hello.

Maybe. I'm still convinced we'll have one day, even if we don't have today.

Standing on Cracks (Loving My Mother Back)

Greece

Cracks, I've been told they break mother's backs. Not my mother mind you - I'd like to think she  is unbreakable. I do have  a few fuzzy snapshots frozen in place from when she has not been able to be oh so solid - but they're fuzzy. I can pretend it was all just a dream; my mother the unbreakable.

I want to point out that: my mother the teacher, even in her moments of fragility has taught me how to live, how to be, how to have grace, how to let live - and let God.

Not that she hasn't had reason to break - not that she has never been battered and bruised by life. I can't imagine describing her world as easy. After all she was gifted me, and I'm fairly sure it goes with out saying
that I wasn't an easy gift. Not after all that got lost - and all she might have wanted from the universe. I know she'd say she'd gained a lot too.  That helps. When life shudders over me and I sit, spinning into tizzies, wondering why. Looking back at how deep some of my actions have cut.

Making faces

Yet she is my mum, my mummy; I love her anyway - always and forever.  Even when my skin is screaming; when I'm stepping on cracks; when standing gets too hard. When I don't like her not even a little bit; I love her.

Isn't that how it works with our parents? If it works at all. I have little love for my father. My mum and I have worked hard to find a balance in our relationship - to have it be good.

No it's not mothers day, it's not even been a good day. We aren't currently in the same time zone, I haven't gotten to hug her for over a year and yet ... I love her; she's my mother. She was the gift given to me and when I'm standing on cracks I don't always admit that she loves me, anyway. 

It is enough. Even when I'm cursing the sky and swearing that it isn't. It is, I promise it is. When you can, when it's safe - let your parents love you. Let you family buffer you from the world. We need all the help we can get. 

In this moment, I am still feeling small and fragile; however, my mother has given me enough to let me love you all, anyway. Thank you for being part of my dance, for joining the Borderline.

Dancing in Greece.

Oh us brave and daring Nielsen women. How we love. How we dance. My love, my thanks -all for the amazing woman dancing next to me who teaches me joy. See, it is enough. Love! K

Being Kind - Letting the world rewind.

I feel like I spent the past few months cliff diving. I let April trail into May without peep from me. There have been moments when I longed to reach out and muddle through text, brush off cobwebs and slip into Borderline.

Is it it just me who finds it funny, the first time I sit down to write in weeks my phone rings three times. Moments apart. Three different people wanting some part of my attention till I am left sitting here feeling frustrated and spent.

I was going to talk about finding ways to be kind, giving ourselves time.  I was going to try to catch up on the Borderline. Share peeks of the adventures and wandering - strongly filtered with my need to be kind. Slightly tainted, wondering if I'm about to trip.

The buzzing in my head got too loud. I'm sorry for the lack of Borderline. 

Things I Cannot Do.

Fall. 

I cannot rush of into dream land, holding your hand, pretending that I'll be more then a bump in the road. It is to much. It is not enough. It is hot tears and a cool breeze. 

Love you. 

Because that isn't how the story ends. I'll just be the smudge on a page, the girl with messy hair hiding in her messy bed cursing possibilities. 

~ Let me know when I wake up. 

Tomato red

My lips are currently tomato red. My eyes are blood shot and the lack of good sleep is catching up. I'm starting to feel like the white rabbit always running late, but is it an important date?  The beat burst in the background and I'm spinning side to side in my computer chair.

My tongue is taunted by the taste of tea. My body still softly vibrating from being spun around my bedroom this morning. My morning routine has started to include dancing to one song before leaving the house. Letting my limbs feel freedom had been fun.

I thought I might have more to say, but apparently not.

Dream Me Away

Maybe tomorrow I'll go dancing in the streets.  Having dreams are scary. I've been tipping the deck. If I look down all I see is me, in pieces. If my veins were zippers I'd slip off my skin. I miss drinking in tomorrow from someone else's lips.

I should be piecing myself together, but lately I lay in the yellow bed waiting to be ripped apart. I stare at myself in the mirror. Paint my face awake and wonder if I'll do or die. I stand in the kitchen and feel the room spinning, edging me to start cliff jumping.

Playing other people leaves me drunk on a haze I can't figure out how to shift. It feels like my friends are drifting. I keep shattering. I just want to be done, but dreams are scary. If someone came to me tomorrow and promised that it could all be blown away, I'm not sure what I'd say. Dreams are scary. Bloody lips are so inviting. Teeth marks such a promise.

Best friend in so many ways always meant you, never really meant me.

If I could be born again I'd want to be a firefly.

The ocean might always remind me of death.

Slushies are better then you, they don't cut. I'm always finding ways to drown. I promise mum I'll learn to fly before you die. Dreams are scary, but I've got a hope chest and I've got the sky and one day I'm going to be an awesome grown up. One day I'll know wellness and wellness will know me.

For today I'm doing my best.  My best still wants you to love me anyway.

-K

Dry Skin

Try to be okay with the storm. Home feels to far away. Afternoon tutoring turned out to be a waste. Sat there crumbling. I don't have words to offer right now. I keep looking up wondering if someone will take me away. I don't know how to be here.

My body is stiff and sore from under use. Grey colors the day and my skin doesn't fit right. Depression comes out to play and I'm not ready to pay. Give me an off switch. I'd take any way out on days like this.

After Math

Sometimes guilt sneaks in over at Borderline, over here. I hate coloring over all the moments that work: the happy, the good, the calm, the blessedly easy moments with: anger, frustration, tears, or complaints. I worry that I come across as a one dimensional diagram. I worry that I'm all take and no give. That I hit the wrong note, that I don't make it easy to love, that I hide away part of the richness of Borderline. Part of the richness of me.  

The music changes and my skin finds just a moment to breath, and for a moment, for a time, for now - it doesn't matter that I'm over tired, doesn't matter that I've got two hours of tutoring tonight or a math exam I'm not really ready for tomorrow. It doesn't matter that I felt ugly today. Doesn't matter that I feel like I was acting ugly today. The music sinks in and winds me down. 90 degree spins left and right on my computer chair as my shoulders roll. Bliss finds me even as my nose stings raw from blowing. My lips chapped red and green, icing will do that you see. My eyes hot and dry. Yet bliss still finds me. The bliss still takes me away, and the gift of knowing that one day I'm going to be so much more then okay rubs the stiffness out of my neck. 

I haven't found a way to bottle this feeling, it doesn't take kindly to traps but oh, oh oh oh, Yes. It's dancing on the sand dunes at Southport, it's looking over the rolling green while walking the Swiss Alps, it's my mother commenting in amazement about the landscape in somewhere USA, it's laying in green grass and watching clouds, it's the first bite of pineapple and that kiss, it's hot water and a cool breeze, it's yellow bed happiness, it's jumping into the lake at first light. . . it's so many moments captured, and triggered by acceptance and letting the music in. Fluttering across my flushed skin, slowly making room for a cool breeze. 

I hit a snap today, I burned up, burned bright and had so much trouble regulating. My brain was pounding, boldfaced, underlined, questioning how I was going to deal with all the emotions. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't 'good.'  Tuning into this moment of bliss, of calm, of connectedness - was just the other side of Borderline.

My brain isn't trying to eat me, not always - and sometime I'd swear it's a gift. In this moment I choose to let it be a gift. In other moments I might scream and call it a curse. Slowly I start to learn it, learn how to make it work for me, one day I'll love it.  

Honor your brain, honor the borderline, and when you can, chose the gift. 

Always love, 

K

Numb

There are only so many times I can restart my brain with you. There are only so many times I can try again. My brain is humming, the last of the sick masks most of the rage. My limbs are heavy and feeling broken. There are only so many times I can sit there and try to decode the scribbles, curves and amplitude.

I can hope that tomorrow will be kind. I can pray for love, for time, for understanding. Today I'm just going to fade to gray. Shake it out, shape up and suck in air hoping it will fill the gaps.

Burn. Fly. Mend. Drop.

Take me by the hand, spin me around the dance floor and love me anyway. Maybe when I grow up I'll be more like you.  I miss maybes, and spinning on green grass as the sky loved me true. Tart sweet stinging lips, the best treat after a long day used to be you. Tattered memories pinned to the burning board. Dear K whoever you are in 10 years I pray to god you love her anyway.

Love her good.

K

For a Cookie

I'll be your friend for a cookie. I'll give you all my cake if this lab report was done. I don't have the energy for this dance right now. My right hand is mysteriously numb. My lips and noes are chapped. Anger lashing down and I tune out. Not present enough to give a fuck. This trip is just building it all up.


fuck

Smash the screen, hips swing and the lack of leg room makes me want to lash out at someone. I can't connect to the disconnect. Times run out. I've got to go ...

I'm fine or fire?

I'm running and I'm crying and it's okay. The beat sneaks in and wraps me up. The lyrics slip in and gag the screaming. The louder the music the bigger the disconnect. So just lose it. Please tell me why I'm here again? I should be running down to grab my lunch. Finding away to plug in to tutoring so I don't have to sit in class and see another green 74% scrawled atop of my exam.

I've lost the beat. I can't get the volume loud enough. So this sad attempt to beat out the blood and bile from the back of my throat has just left made it spin harder. The poet slams down love. Something fierce as I turn tune in joy on the radio. Hoping to find the shining light  that scares away the monsters of doubt.

The dragon will be slayed, the spin warped into expression. This to shall fucking well pass. Till then I pound on my heart begging it to love me anyway.

At least do that much, something has to sooth the fire.

- K

Captured and Thanks

The captured moments between screaming and bleeding are surprisingly soft. Sometimes even sweet. My life isn't all dark. I'm not always fighting the edge, drowning in blood or frozen. In so many ways I am richly blessed. Joy tugs at my lips, love flutters from my wrists and I see wonder almost daily. Yet I find capturing those moments so much harder. The light slips from my hands and I'm left wondering if it was all a dream. 

I am not empty. I am not over. I am not near the end. I am sometimes blue and unwell, that is true. 

It amazes me to see Borderline grow. I sit here letting  Not the Prettiest  flood my ears. Songs on repeat make the best traps. Lip gloss is a wonderful invitation and I just wanted to thank the collection of people who have found Borderline and stuck around. I can't tell you where the story is going. DBT is still a year away. I've got loose leaf plans.

I can tell you, that I'm currently smiling. I can tell you that I'm spinning in my chair. I can tell you that right now there is enough of K to love me anyway. I can tell you that I'm going to be geeky tonight. I can tell you that my heart has a song. Or a song has my heart. I could tell you about boys with floppy hair. I could tell you that my Mum is back from India. 

I could tell you it will be an adventure, but I think you already know that. 

So, thank you and love. 

Anyway love,

             K

p.s  "You don't have to be prettiest to be loved, just the way you are."

10 Minutes

I'm not sure how to start talking in text today. I have a laundry list of things to share, stories to ramble, words to spin. If you want to be a writer, you write. Sounds simple, and yet I look at my fingers and wonder if they'll be the key, my escape path., a way to the top.

My platonic wife says I write beautifully, even if it's sometime in code. My mother says I have talent. Meanwhile I cut into soft flesh with simple little keystrokes and  try to capture the monsters.



For now, my 10 minutes have fled and I've got to run to class. Love me anyway? Always?

- K x

Fight the No

I gave into the spin, and I fell. I stood slightly to far left and started drowning in judgement. My blood wanted to drip down frozen arms, my heart wanted to escape. I tried to stand still to let my heart catch up, to sooth the angry voices yelling in my ear - but in the end I walked out. Got a refund, and walked away crying, hating ever inch, every pound, every scar.

I don't know what is happening to me, I cant escape judgment, I'm loosing patience, if it's not perfect I don't want it. I made room. I made room for the big personality, the big hips, the big moods, the big stack of learning. I set up the new year to have balance. I reached out and I thought I'd be doing so well, so why am I falling? Why am I failing? Why does my mouth taste like hate and my throat burns with all the times I didn't scream.

If I could flick the switch I would, the world looks so empty. I'm being poisoned with my own self hate.

Oh God, I give it all to you, I call out to the heavens and pray that you sooth my angry heart. Help me God find something to hold on to, help me Lord turn to the light because the dark is gripping so tightly and I am so scared.

Oh God, Love me anyway - because I can't anymore.

Faded

Some days it will feel like I've hit the wall.  Hit. Hit. Hit. I wonder if I can shimmy and  then splat. My skin started to burn, I wanted to scream the place down.

  My name is Katrine and I want this all to much.

Mark my arms with frustration, wish briefly for blood and then swirl the pen to make it look dizzy. I wonder if I'm screaming yet? My fingers slide over the keys typing out this sorry attempt at release. Feet tap away at a beat not completely mine.

Shall I slip my skin and step into the shell you offer me? Shall I break the chains and paint the cell with dreams? I wonder how you can be mad at me, even when I go to dream land. Or maybe I just miss read everything I tell myself.

 

I feel my lunges filling as I drown in the burn, the burn out, the disconnect. On the outside it could have been said there was no need to worry. Is that why I now feel the need to act out? I'm worried, I'm so worried about K lately.  

Another day to late to call Mccay and make an appointment, but an appointment to say what? We've done everything we can till DBT? I refuse to be chained to an hospital bed, I don't need that kind of wake up call and the price my soul pays is to high for me to try again. So I'd rant, and maybe something will click. Tomorrow, maybe - I'll start to try again tomorrow.

Then I start to wonder, if I had turned myself inside out, if I just found a way to push in the right direction, would this day have been better?  I'm sitting here frustrated that the keys aren't banging, the prose isn't clicking,  my blood isn't painting the picture of the demons dancing over my heart. 

I want to bath in snow, light my skin on fire and die over the last piece of cake. I want to head bang in a loud crowd till I'm mixed in with the lost and found, to bruised and blue to be K anymore. Sub in the over share, the devil may care, the lab from hell, all the kind reminders that I don't fit, I'm not the type, it's killing me.  Or it's keeping me alive.  

I want you|understood| to wrap me up, rock me till the fire soothes,  kiss away the blotchy mess and find away to have me dancing before dinner. 

Shall I be pretty? Could I be witty? Tie me to the end of your kite string and launch me to the moon. Maybe even love me anyway. I don't want to be a shell.

- K

Full

Forgive me, the world is soft, fuzzy and scented with steam and baby powder. I almost shared my thoughts in a jumbled facebook status message, but I thought this might be worth keeping. Rather then let it get lost in the internet waste land. 

My room is messy, my body stiff from drumming the sky and painting the walls. In other words I did Opal a Nia routine tonight. I have homework left undone, laundry not folded, things I could be doing.  Then again I could be building a snowman, painting, or watching t.v. 

The truth is I'm tired and I'm full. 

Full of wonder, full of Nia, full of new bus routes, full of storefronts and the bright lights thanks to a few hours  wandered Whyte Ave, full of really good sushi, full of hot showers and full of yummy cake. 

I'm also full of doubt, questions, dark depths, gremlins, and in then end it's all going to merge together, and I'll wind up being an awesome grown up. 

Can you tell that tired hit, and the words faltered? 

Ah well, at least I'm sharing. ;) 

Love, anyway 

- K

Fat - and other words.

or, When food is love

I don't think I'm ready to write this yet - but at least now I have a place holder.

- K

Lost - and found

Things I've lost in the last few weeks:

(in no real order)

• My wallet*
• Tears 
• My passport *
• Dear James Letters 
• My mind 
• Exam rooms *
• Glitter
• My backpack *
• Control *
• My heart *
• Anger
• My dinner 
• Fear 
• 2010 ~ 

Things I haven't lost in the last few weeks:

• Me. 

<3 
 

Dear World, it's enough. <3

* (have been found and returned.)

~ ( and I wish it well)