My BPD Mother

Her truth is sickness
Shame transference her specialty
A harness
A wild fire
Taking over like darkness takes over twilight
Unpredictable
Volatile
There was no harmony
Only the jagged strings of a demon symphony
Plucking my heartstrings
Chord by chord
Unraveling my sanity
Confusion a constant entity
Night terrors reflecting daymares
My screams reflected
In her coal black stare
I kept my head low
My heart wounded
My neglect a secret

I am the abortion she didn’t have
The toy discarded
The bad seed
Her rage
Neither daughter, friend or foe
I was the sounding board she craved

My mother knows how to love
My sisters
Her grandchildren
Great grandchildren
Who she chooses to love

She declared psychological warfare
Allowed the unspeakable
Attempted to control me
Hated me
Stripped my dignity
Invalidated my existence
She never expected me to fight back

I am my BPD mother’s daughter
I am empathetic
I am love, unconditionally
I am no longer a victim
I am not my trauma
I am not ashamed
I am not my BPD diagnosis

I will never be her