One Small Cut...

And apparently that's enough to ask 'Are you a cutter?' I looked at the girl sitting next to me (if I remember correctly she is something like 15 or 16 though I am not sure because I don't really know her... just some very chatty kid at the public library) and said 'I don't think that is an appropriate question to ask someone.' What else could I say? 'Yes, want to see the scars on my arms?'!! Her excuse: well, she's just outgoing, likes to meet new people... *rolls eyes* At the risk of sounding much older than my years, someone has got to teach these kids about proper social behavior (this is the same kid who sat there talking to me about her sunburn -I was trying to go about my business in peace- and then told me to touch it to see how hot it actually was). It shouldn't affect me this much, this way... I can't describe it, but it doesn't feel good...



Alright, done with the rant.

Is It Worth It?

I find that, as I begin to 'feel better', as my mood becomes 'normal', the need to write, to draw in order to express myself becomes less. That does not mean, however. that that need has completely disappeared. It is unfortunate, than, that while the need is still there my ability to express myself in those ways seems to have gone, or at least to have become much less apparent. The images are all but gone (happily, though, with the gradual disappearance of those useful images, those 'drawings' in my head waiting to be brought alive on paper, the other images that haunted me, of blood, razor blades, and suicide, have also become more and more infrequent), the words which seemed almost effortlessly to string themselves into poetry now only present themselves in a useless jumbled fashion. Even my ability to write a halfway decent blog entry has been severely diminished (as some of you have surely noticed).

These changes would not be worth mentioning were it not for the fact that I find myself still in need of those abilities, those ways of expressing myself. After all, they were, in some ways, my only means of expressing myself, of 'explaining' what went on inside this head of mine. Though my drawings and poetry may seem somewhat indirect (as indeed they often are) from there I was often able to explain things that would have otherwise remained locked inside the dark chasms of my mind, leaving me frustrated, tortured by these feelings, emotions, and experiences which I could not otherwise explain, not even to myself. Poems like 'My Child, My Beloved' (which came from my realization of exactly how far I had wandered from the One who cares the most for me) and 'The Choice' (written when I was moving ever closer to taking my own live, when there seemed nothing more to hold me on this celestial globe); drawings like 'Head/Heart'(illustrating what I believe is a disconnect between head knowledge and heart knowledge) and 'A Work In Progress' (a drawing for which the idea goes back, eight, nine, or 10 years, one that I cannot explain in words but instead must be felt by the viewer), these were the means by which I expressed myself, the ways in which I was able to best explain my experience, to myself as well as others. Without these I am left only with feelings and experiences that I cannot explain to others because I myself do not understand them.

It has been suggested that there is a link between creativity and mood disorders such as major depressive and bipolar disorders (). No surprise when we look at the lives of such people as Vincent van Gogh, Edgar Allen Poe, and Sylvia Plath. Taking my own experience into account I, for one, am inclined to agree.

I wonder... is it worth it..?

Borderline FUCKING Personality Disorder My ASS!!! -OR- They Didn't Listen

"She met the criterion for a major depressive disorder and has borderline personality traits." Axis II diagnosis, 799.99 ,deferred
"Per B____: Escalating borderline personality type behaviour." Axis II diagnosis, 301.83, borderline personality disorder.
"Primary axis II presentation." Axis II diagnosis: borderline personality behaviours noted.

They didn't really listen to me. Two different people from the same agency. I saw the first only once. He spent probably the longest amount of time talking to me. I saw the second one twice. After reading the records of those 'crisis calls' that I requested from Mental Health it was clear that, while she spent some time talking to me that after she consulted with the guy who came to the first 'crisis call' she had already made up her mind, she wasn't really listening, she wasn't hearing what i was saying.

It's just... I don't want to have a personality disorder (and btw, what the hell am I borderline between anyway???). And I honestly do not believe that I do. I cannot fully explain it right now (honestly I'm just too tired). Lets say I've got my fun little DSM IV (thanks Abnormal Psychology class, lol) and I just don't meet the criteria... at least, not enough of them to make mentioning it worth while. And I would bet money that these mental health professionals and I would disagree with the criteria we think I DO meet.

Sorry, this isn't a very good post... I hate that my writing has gone down hill... maybe I'll try explaining again, when I am not so tired.