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adsenft@wchat.on.ca
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I am finally getting back to this site, my first one, begun in 1997 to write more stories, essays and even a screenplay based on my book. Keep coming back as I get things whipped into shape. I hope everyone is doing well and staying strong.
"I sit at my table and wage war on myself
----R.E.M.
The Art Of Being Borderline
"I hate you! Don't leave me!"
Merely it's the everyday person,
Psychotic fingers of frenzy grasp her tangled hair,
She spits out the vile substance,
Completely abandoning any semblance of control,
Taking with them any loose fragments of self-esteem.
Who will unlock this torture chamber of a stifling box?
For, I too, stumble awkwardly and thick-minded,
Jane Wanklin,
1997
I am using a friend's computer now, as I blew out my modem during a thunderstorm the other night---I am posting many new poems and a short story about a teenage girl suffering from trichotillomania, which is a disorder wherein the person pulls out hair, including eyelashes and eyebrows, as a nervous, obsessive-compulsive act. I have been dealing with this problem since I was fourteen and thought I was the only one in the world that did such a bizarre and disfiguring thing. When I saw a program featured on the Dateline NBC show not too long ago, I was surprised and astonished that this was a known condition and that many people had experienced it in one degree or another.
Again, I am sorry I've neglected this page for so long. Please keep coming back and checking in. I welcome your feedback. Please be well, everyone. I love you all.
Here's a pleasant diversion from all the gloom and doom. This page and the poems I've included below are a way to introduce my
world of mental health But there is much data and information on BPD on the Web and in bookstores But I survived many years of slashing, eating disorders, suicidal depression This may sound pompous and overblown, but I am on a mission: With my
poetry, So here I am, having endured three gruesome years held virtually prisoner
in
Because of the kindness and generosity of the band's personal manager, Bertis Downs, I am able to use the first two verses of the chillingly appropriate song as part of my book's introduction.
Chapters Four, Seven and Eleven are now available on the Next Page, if you click on that.
Although parts of the book are quite graphic, and therefore, not for the sqeamish, the overall message is one of hope, for if you can endure horrific situtations and emotions, you can claim victory.If this book helps even one poor soul out of the darkness and into the light, then all those years of misery will have been worth it. Thank you.
Are some of you reading this hurting right now? Do you feel that you
just Each week there will be new entrants of "Mental Health Literature".
Some of So without a lot more of my gabbing (once I get started...) I will present
I know the barricades, and
I know the mortar in the walls breaks
I recognize the weapons. I've used them well.
I've a rich understanding of my finest defenses:
I proclaim that claims are left unstated.
I demand a rematch.
I decree a stalemate.
I divine my deeper motives.
I recognize the weapons.
I've practised them well, I fitted them
Myself.
It's amazing what devices you can sympathize, empathize.
This is my mistake. Let me make it good.
I raised the wall and I will be the one to knock it down.
Reach out for me, hold me tight, hold that memory.
Let my machine talk to me. Let my machine talk to me".
"World Leader Pretend".
Isn't that our supposed, cliche-encrusted battle-cry?
A pathetic way to encapsulize
A life teetering on the borderline.
Armed with social ammunition,
Taunting abnormal creatures crouching low,
In our perpetually-shrinking boxes.
While anxiety rips her nerves into vicious whirlwinds,
As he viscous, bubbling tarpit of black ennui
Covers her mouth and won't let her scream.
And stuffs words down her throat to soothe her.
Then, her stomach fluttering with dizzying fear,
Of the curse of encroaching obesity.
She's forced to vomit out each nurturing sentence.
She watches as they spiral down the toilet forever
Who will stay when being constantly spat upon?
From within the iron walls of distrust and self-loathing,
I find I have no answers for my poor, desperate friend.
Precariously along the borderline of Hell.
Holding her hand in a clammy, dish-rag grasp,
I quake and whimper with her in our fear.Attention:
Update Announcement
Hello again, everyone. The date is August 31st, 2001 and I am finally updating this page. I must apologize for my lengthy absence, but a very busy life and a new book upcoming has kept me away from this page. Of all the websites I have online, this one is closest to my heart and the one where I can, hopefully, help others with mental illnesses not to make the kind of mistakes that I did. Aside from my current literary project, I am going to be putting chapters of a fictionalized story of what happened to me following the year of 1995, when I wrote my first autobiography. The reason I am writing it as a fictional work is because that way, it may reach a wider audience than the other one did. I will be posting five chapters of the work here on this page in the very near future.
and those of us who live in our worlds that may seem quite strange and
eerie
to some of you. There are many who walk teeteringly along the borderline,
uncertain and frightened. We are afraid, not of anything external, but
of
ourselves and the undoings of our very own minds. It is an illness with
the
rather ponderous name of "Borderline Personality Disorder".
and libraries everywhere these days. It wasn't always like that. Twenty
years ago, when my life spiralled out of control at university and I ended
up in a mental hospital for the better part of that two decades, there
was
nothing either written or spoken about this disorder. It was labelled such
misnomers as "schizophrenia", "hysteria" and, oh, my
"favourite" one:
Behaviour Problem".
anxiety, shop-lifting and reclusiveness. I survived to become a writer
of
some modest success, a gift to me for my trials. Some are given nothing
in
return for a life of tragedy and mental illness. They waver in and out
of
institutions, brains numbed by psychotropic drugs and feeling that life
really is not worth the trouble and pain of living it.
prose and vignettes on emotional disorders, insanity and life lived on
the
edge of a sparkling razor blade, I hope to both help fellow suffers who
dwell in their own houses of pain and those who love and care about us.
a concentration camp-like mental ward back in the late 1970's. It employed
a controversial form of "treatment" called "Behaviour Modification"
and
left scars far deeper and more permanently etched than any with which I
decorated myself with an arsenal of razor blades and torn-up soda pop cans.
Nobody can hurt me now.I Have An Announcment To Make
Sometime this month, I have a book coming out, my first,which is an autobiography on my life with Borderline Personality Disorder. The book is entitled, "Let Me Make It Good" and is taken from an R.E.M. song called "World Leader Pretend".
cannot go on and face another day in your tiny, cramped boxes? Take heart,
if I can overcome to the degree of functioning in the world again when
it
was once determined I would never leave institutional life, so can you.
I
am certainly nobody special, but I AM a survivor.
it may deeply disturb with twinges of recognition, some will be repulsive,
but you can rest assured that the overall theme of this Borderline Box
is
HOPE. For though the walls of those boxes are always a moment away, they
cannot imprison us. We have power and strength, a greater quantity than
the
so-called "normal" (I hate that word) folks who stare at poor
souls who
mumble and stumble in the streets, too poor for medication to keep the
psychotic edge of the box from closing in too tightly. Believe me, hearing
voices is not like being at the movies.
for your contemplation a series of poems about the art of being borderline.
I hope you gain some insight, or at least are mildly diverted from your
own
problems temporarily.
Why Do We Cut Ourselves?
A stab at explaining this rather bizarre and disturbing symptom which is very prevalent among borderline sufferers
Seclusion
This place should never be visited by any human
This page was last updated on May 17th, 2002. Below you will find three chapters from my book, "Let Me Make It Good: A Chronicle Of My Life With Borderline Personality Disorder":
There's a place we have here in London, Ontario,
Canada called "S.A.F.E." It is an acronym for Self Abuse Finally
Ends and
I used to be a member until apathy, illness and hospitalization made it
impossible for me to attend since 1993.
The principles of S.A.F.E. are that, first, you do not cut on the premises
or you will be sent home or to the emergency room. Next, you don't talk
about actually cutting. They use art therapy and group discussions, but
most
importantly of all, there is a support line. That meant everything to me
and
>P>
It is run by an incredible and dynamic survivor of BPD named Mary Graham.
She would not mind me talking about her here. She and some of my friends
from S.A.F.E. appeared on the "Maury Povich" talk show in 1993
and the
response form all over was staggering. It seems that, particularly in the
United States, there are few programs and self-help groups for borderlines
and particularly those who cut. Because of that television appearance,
Mary
recieved hundreds of calls and is working on helping organizations all
over
North America develop places like S.A.F.E.
Remember, you are not in this alone. That is one of the purposes of
this
page, along with depicting borderline and mental illness of various kinds,
to let everyone know that there is help out there. You just have to know
where to find it.
If anyone has any questions about the S.A.F.E. organization or anything
pertaining to my current philosophy, (which is not likely to change) on
cutting as an addiction, please e-mail me. My e-mail address is at the
bottom of this page
Well, after being away from the Internet for over a year and not having updated this since, I hope you will like all of the material I will be putting in here over the next months. I have updated it already, as a matter of fact: I've begun a chapter on eating disorders which you will find right above you, along with a complete vignette about a very serious problem today, and that is the staggering suicide rate among teenagers. I hope you are all well. I've been thinking about everyone who has visited this site. It means a great deal to me. Thank you.
The Boxdweller,
"Psychodramata"
"You're moving through rough waters, motel boy
And swimming in your sleep.
How could I have been so blind, mis-sighted
Not to see there's something wounded deep".
-----R.E.M.
A good choice of band for the disinherited. Their music comforts me.
C 1997
If you want to write to me for any reason, or to get hope to carry on, I am right here:
Included in the Safe Searching
Index