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If i tell anyone what my mental health diagnosis is (Borderline Personality Disorder), they immediately think that i have a green tail and purple ears! It’s actually a diagnosis that wreaks havoc in my life all around me (and my family too).


The number one cause of BPD is having been sexually (or other) abused as a child. I was from the age of 4 – 13. I hated my Dad all my life, so, so much all my life and yet when he was dying and i’d always predicted my only response would be one of “good….i hope it’s painful and you rot in hell!”, i found myself sitting at his bedside, holding his hand…..those hands that had abused me so badly for the whole of my childhood! WTF! Before he died, from cancer of the brain and lungs, i found myself whispering “i forgive you, dad” and even kissed him on the forehead as i left! Yuk!! His fingers were yellow from having smoked a skanky pipe all his life, and his fingernails filthy from his work as a carpenter: But his face was now pale and he struggled for breath even with a pressure-pumping oxygen mask strapped tightly to his face. He’d lost weight since last i saw him, had white hair. I watched the machine next to him; his sats had dropped dangerously low at only 65%. He kept trying to pull the mask off as he couldn’t talk with it on; i wish i could have heard what his dying words were….I wondered if they might include a ‘sorry’ but i am never to know. He was a staunch atheist so didn’t believe heaven or hell existed. I’d always damned him to hell, but somehow, the human being in me found compassion for this evil man. His funeral was two weeks later. The hall was packed out with all the many friends he had lied to and held sordid secrets from for so long. I placed a rose on his coffin and as this disappeared behind the curtains, i felt myself scream inside and then followed floods of tears. You see, really, i’d always wanted a daddy but he was the monster who came to my room uninvited very frequently, at night, and he killed my childhood the very first time he raped me at the age of four, helpless and defenceless as i was. And still now, i miss having a daddy but then i don’t know what it means to have a daddy, only that i’d always wanted one who didn’t hurt me so much. I wrote this poem called ‘I Always Wanted a Daddy’: 


I always wanted a daddy

To love and cherish me

But what I got was you

Which was such a tragedy


You know what you did

I’m sure you remember well

You put me through a nightmare

And a childhood which was hell


And how can I be angry now

That you’ve not got long to go?

And how can I forgive you

When you dealt me such a blow?


I wish someone else had been there

To take the place of you

Those stolen childhood years

When nobody else knew


I always wanted a daddy

And now you’re going to go

And I ought to be dancing a jig

Yet that just isn’t so


My heart is full of sorrow

And God only knows why

A steam train’s running through my head

Because you’re going to die


And I’ve wished you dead every day

For so very, very long

And now it’s happening

That feels so very wrong


I don’t intend to contact you

To say my fond farewell

You’ll end your years in luxury

When it should be a prison cell


But you never even loved me

Now I, so full of hate

Am still pining for a daddy

But now it’s all too late.


Anyhow, enough of the emotional tosh and back to how BPD has affected my life. It has always ruined my relationships and friendships till i now have none left. it affects my perception of everything. I live in a different world to you. I am trapped inside this bubble and am in a permanent state of crisis and near breakdown). I self-harm; i cut my arms to release me from my internal agony, and taken more overdoses than i care to mention. Even though i am not successful in meeting my Maker, i end up in intensive care attached to a drip and bed bound for one long boring week. My family gave up on me years ago, apart from a sister and my Mum (who, nevertheless still does not believe that i was abused by her darling husband!).


Having BPD puts me in a world of my own that very few understand. And even if they understand, they ‘can’t come with me’ – it’s a journey i have to travel a long and lonely way by myself. And although i live in an emotional battlefield, and i see everything skew-wiff, don’t trust anybody, love too quickly and lose too badly; i am still anorexic and have had addictions to drink and drugs and a peculiar way of living for as long as i can remember. I never remember being any other way though i’ve so often wished i were another person(ality).


For those of you who know where i’m coming from, i thank you for reading this; and for those who don’t, thank you nevertheless and i can promise you a really haven’t got a long green tail and purple ears!

Coming Out The Other Side




After my last post ‘Suicide’, i did exactly that. That dark pit had just got too deep to bear, as had my thoughts. I wasn’t insane; it wasn’t a cry for attention; it wasn’t a mistake. It was a very deliberate attempt to end my life which had become too awful to live. My family have no care for me and i was in such deep despair that i didn’t consider the impact my death would have on friends, my Mum or my sister, selfish though that may sound. Before i ‘died’, i wrote the following poem because suicide IS a very painful option; not an easy get-out as some with no knowledge of mental health, would presume:


Suicide is painless!

But don’t believe that’s true

I may be dead and gone

But I’ll never forget you


And I’ll come back to this Earth

As your angel, to check you’re ok

I’ll stay by your side forever

Being careful not to get in the way


I know you worked so hard with me

But there was still so much more stuff

I’ve begged you not to walk away

Tho’ you must have had enough


So, suicide’s not painless

For the loved ones left behind

As I opted out of life

And as such, humankind


I’m not much good at anything

And now I pay the cost

I’m crying for the ones I loved

Who now, to me, are lost


I wonder where I’m going

Be it heaven; be it hell

The decision made by only God

I bid you fond farewell


So suicide not’s painless

And I can vouch for that

For someone else is sitting

In the seat where I once sat.


I’d made up my mind, and believe me, getting down nearly 100 pills takes some doing and is not without fear or guts.  The decision to opt out of life is a huge one but all you can think, while washing down the medication, is that soon i would be pain free. I hoped i’d go to heaven to be with lost family, friends and cherubs and angels. But i was unsure, as surely taking my own life goes against God’s wishes; it is not His timing for me. Maybe i would be cast into the permanent darkness of Hell, deeper than the darkness i had left behind. I took a chance. 

I waited for sleep and oblivion to come come but every now and then i woke from my stupor, only to swallow more pills, not even bothering to count or care what they were. Eventually i floated into unconsciousness and not finding myself in heaven, but somewhere in between, in no-man’s land.

Then suddenly, i was shaken back to life by my carer, just about, and not without anger as i did NOT want to ‘come back’. All i remember, after that was a rapid blue-light dash to the local hospital, having monitors and drips connected everywhere. I started to come round, seeing other people lined up on ambulance trolleys and instantly felt guilty and undeserving of care, having inflicted this condition deliberately upon myself where others were waiting and there because of valid reasons, car accidents, heart attacks etc. and i didn’t consider myself worthy of any care or attention. 

I was in Intensive Care for a day which i remember nothing about, and then transferred to a ward with other ‘really sick’ people. I was attached to a drip which contained a drug to counteract the damage i had done to my liver from all the paracetamol i took (and i DO NOT recommend this)! i refrained from telling the other patients in my bay, the reason for my being there; suddenly feeling ashamed. That was until the doctors came to do their ’rounds’ and stood at the foot of my bed, announcing clearly and obviously that “This is Ellie Sofia; she is here because of a drug overdose” and i thought to myself, “why don’t you announce it to all the world while you’re at it or better still, why not put a paragraph in the Daily Telegraph”, but of course, i would never, ever be worthy of taking up even a centimetre in a newspaper. I was counted as a ‘nothing’ and was treated accordingly for my wicked deed. I was there for a week, attached to drips etc and suddenly wanted to be back at the home i had left with all it’s heartache and despair. Anywhere would be better than being there, being thought of as nothing better than a WASTE OF SPACE or a BLOODY NUISANCE!

Now i am home, having come out the other side, i can’t say i’m pleased or or even that i regret what i did, purely, i wish i had died. I’ve blown any chance of ever seeing my children or grandchildren again as they dismiss me as mental health fruit and nut case, not to be touched with a bargepole.

But as i am here, i realise that i have to make some sort of life for myself that doesn’t include my children which is so very painful but i have to accept it. When i am fully recovered, i intend to build up some semblance of life where i count in the world and perhaps make new friends. Writing this blog has helped me get a lot of anger and thoughts out of my system so thank you to any of you who take the trouble to read this account. It is not written cleverly or artistically; it’s just raw feelings and the truth. 








Can I forgive you….no, and even if I did

You wouldn’t thank me for it

You, being in total denial

I see straight through your smart exterior

To the rat you are inside

And you’d never pardon me for telling you

So I silence my voice and bind my hands

So that I cannot write a letter to you

You took a stick of dynamite and threw it

Into the centre of my childhood

And blasted it to tiny pieces

Yet I yearn to love and I cannot cure myself

Of the love I had for you for what I thought

You were before I knew you

Black Dog

black dog2


The Black Dog, Sir Winston Churchill called it….Depression that is. Today is a bad day. The black dog has taken up residence in my brain and i want nothing more than it to go away. But that’s what Bipolar does for you….it does you no favours and grants you no peace. How much longer must i suffer like this? I’m not nice to be around as i can barely string two words together. I pray for the light at the end of the tunnel to reappear as it has disappeared out of view all together and all that is left of me is the black.


I would love to tell you that I’m different, special
But I cannot lie
I am screaming silently
Being trodden into the soil

I want to show you that I’m perfect
But shame prevents me
And scars say otherwise
A heart, left loving, and hating

I await the appearance of the black dog
An axe chopping at a tall tree
Timber falling
Like my mood

I can’t talk; thoughts choking my throat
I hear the whispers in the air, “whore, whore”
Fear masquerading as love
The clouds always bruise the sky

“As I lay me down to sleep I Dear Lord for you to keep my mind, body and soul. For all there is to know you know so make provision Lord God based on what you know. Keep me safe and wrapped tightly in your arms: safe from all danger and harm. Calm every storm, wind and gave keep my feet from the grave; only when it’s my time to go; take me Lord for only you know. Put fire in my heart for you and your word; continue to be my inspiration, my guide and my light. Direct my footsteps Lord day and night. If I fall pick me up, when I’m weak fill my cup; have mercy on my dear soul if I’m naked be my clothes; when I’m hungry feed my Lord. Let every need be met from shelter, clothes, water, transportation and everything in between. Use my talents to prove an income and to labor for your kingdom. Bless every endeavor and give me new insight daily. In your hands we commit our every concern and trust you to do as you will.” (Tim Wright)



mad brain

Still searching through the ruins of my mind

For a semblance of order amongst the chaos

Trying, in my deepest, darkest thoughts

To perceive the slightest glimpse of daylight

This is the most absurd I think I’ve ever felt

Grappling through the pitch blackness

Searching for my sanity within the dank cave

Having crept under the ‘Do Not Enter’ sign

My own fault; my own fault, of course

Always, my own fault; all my life I’ve been told

It’s my own fault, and sometimes I have to

Reluctantly agree, not to disagree

I chose to step through the No-Go warning

Stepping out onto the railway track

Without first looking to see if there is a train

Hurtling towards me, not caring much of the outcome

I am still no further on into making any headway

Through the monochrome and the gloom

And sometimes forget that I am delving into

The very inkiness which resides in my brain

Wondering whether this will be the place of my demise

My mind, in a fit of madness, has engulfed itself

And there on my gravestone will be etched

‘It was her own fault’: ‘We always told her so’.

An Angel In Your Pocket


Hey little one! You have nothing to fear

I’m your angel of caring; can you see?

If you look in my eyes, there’ll only be love

So you see little one; don’t be frightened of me


It’s a fact, mum and dad, they never got on

It’s a wonder that you were conceived

They showed you no love, just used and abused

It’s a crime that they both disbelieve


I keep you, precious child; safe in my heart

And I see all your hurt, shame and pain

And I see all the beauty that you have inside

And I won’t let them hurt you again


Hey little girl! It was never your fault

You have done absolutely no wrong

You were harmed by people you thought could trust

Because the perverts then came along


But don’t cry little babe; you are safe in my arms

I’ll care for you forever more

You are loved, sweetheart; you weren’t black as coal

And you were not an infant whore


It’s safe, pretty one, to come out of your shell

Of your prison within a high wall

Climb up high, hold on tight and don’t be afraid

You can always give me a call.


I’m your friend, sent from heaven, my precious child

To stay by your side, all the time

And I will protect you and not let you down

Please believe me, it’s ok to climb


Out of your pit, when you’re ready, I’ll wait

For even a thousand years

I have plenty of tissues if you need a good cry

To mop up a million tears


Live your life for today, as yesterday’s gone

Who knows what tomorrow will bring

Live life for the moment, each second, right now

Your soul is awakening


An angel in your pocket, I’ll be

No harsh rules am I stipulating

And if you feel upset, scared, alone

This angel in your pocket is waiting.