Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Anna Hempstead Branch, borderline personality disorder, BPD, finely spun, Forever Bears, freedom, hope, intricacies, love, peonies, photo journaling, photography, poetry, scriptures, Sweet Weariness, swinging
Love is the greatest gift of all.
I love to go swinging.
(For the beauty seen in something finely spun.)
Sweet Weariness
Fatigue itself may be a pleasant thing
And weariness be silken, soft and fine!
Upon my eyes its little vapors shine,
Trailing me softly like a colored wing!
Tender as when belovéd voices sing
It steals upon me and with touch divine
Lulls all my senses till each thought of mine
Is hushed to quiet, unremembering.
Oh, weariness thrice dear, so frailly spun
Of ended pleasure that still shines and glows;
Oh, weariness, thrice dear! What have I done
To earn this delicate and deep repose?
Child, thou hast worshiped at the setting sun
And looked, long, long, upon the opening rose.
~~Anna Hempstead Branch

Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: BPD, child, son, Mommy, borderline personality disorder, borderline, father daughter relationship, confused, sad, dissociating, other parts of self, not alone
and a state of denial.
My first DBT Skills group was today. I felt really withdrawn and not wanting to speak about anything. I felt numb from being in a room of other women. I looked around the room with women and thought, “do I look these women,” “are we all diagnosed BORDERLINE,” “what does being borderline mean to me.”
Maybe I’ve been in denial on some level of being diagnosed borderline and there has been moments of me understanding that I am considered borderline, but then on the other hand I think there are parts of me that don’t know it. Maybe they don’t who I am.
I left the class and went outside. Confused.
The sun was shining. The air was cool.
I went to the bathroom before leaving to go home.
My Dad was upset my son called him “jokester.” I felt like I “needed” to reprimand my son verbally, but then on the other hand I believe my son honestly didn’t know “jokester” was bad. I told my son it isn’t okay to call Puppa names.
Later my son said jokester meant a big happy smile.
My Dad withdrew more of himself from my son.
I feel like I need to leave.
I feel like my son and me aren’t wanted.
This is what my Dad did before…make me leave numerous times.
“I’m getting too old,” this is what he said.
Here I am.




