Claiming my “Disorder”
I do not want to live in fear, they say do not romanticize your “illness” but if I don’t how will I live. I am not wrong for being me
Verses entwined with the tendrils of my psyche,
No sonnets for mental health, just the ceaseless cadence of affliction,
They engulf me.
Is my diagnosis a malady, a disordered state?
Borderline Personality Disorder,
A mockery by those untouched by the tempest within,
A fragment of the “dramatic” realm, a label wielded callously,
For those who feel deeply, condemned as theatrical..
Why must outsiders christen experiences they cannot fathom?
I find kinship in my BPD diagnosis,
A cipher for connection, a solace that whispers, “You belong.”
In the embrace of my so-called disorder, I find identity,
In this asylum of shared chaos, I find belonging.
I adore my “disorder,” it is I, and I am it,
Recognition is but the inaugural act,
Now armed with advocacy, a necessary arsenal, I navigate this capitalist abyss,
It’s not the “disorder” shackled to fear of abandonment,
But the legacy of upbringing, engraved in my genes,
For I am not a puzzle yearning for completion.
Desire for dominion, not over others, but over the tempest within,
Ingesting enigmatic medications,
Healing, therapy.
A quest not for repair, but comprehension,
To tame the erratic dance of my own impulses.
Do urges beckon? Indeed, vices whisper my name,
At times, their allure is overwhelming, threatens to consume me,
Listening to their siren call, a dance with temptation,
Yet, I am not lesser than these urges, I resist,
Life, a labyrinth not meant for ease but resilience.
Lost and alone, emotions cascade, an arduous cascade,
Overwhelmed, I succumb, tears cascade,
No razor’s edge, only saline rivers,
A cathartic release, tension dissolving in the ether.
How to conclude a poem never destined to find an end,
In this endless spiral, the ink spills, a testament to an ongoing odyssey.
