Aqui esta la version en espanol de este poema:
Poesía: Parar de Amarte
One day the memory of you will fade away
and my heart will be grateful for that-
because I can’t move on to a new love story
until I stop dreaming of you
until I stop writing about you
It wouldn’t be fair to me or to him
to attempt to write a new love story
when remnants of the old one
still show up in my poetry
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
My son holds the universe in his eyes
with his potential, with his sense of wonder
his eyes are not yet jaded by the inhumanity of this world
and I dread when the day comes
as his innocence starts to fade
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: No Clue
Fui una estúpida al pensar que tu serias algo diferente
alguien que se quedaría
pero repetí el mismo error
enamorarme de otro hombre confundido
enamorarme de potencial y cerrar los ojos a la realidad
esto me pasa por seguir creyendo en cuentos de hadas
donde el príncipe salva a la princesa
donde el príncipe se queda para siempre
y no se va cuando le da la gana
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
running in the sun warms my body, warms my thoughts
it invokes my need to worship it like my ancestors
before the colonizers declared it wrong and pagan
but they couldn’t erase my blood and my DNA
and my deep connection to the Sun,
my ancestral GOD
Always bringing me to the surface of gratitude and love
I wrote this poem in September in 2022.
without a care in the world-we danced in the rain
enjoying the last vestiges of childhood
feeling the wet ground against our feet
stomping and laughing
and enjoying the miracle of this moment
as it rained in paradise
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I call to the waning moon for inspiration, for motivation
Some days it’s hard to keep going, to keep trying
I call to the waning moon to turn into Mama Killa
and bring me comfort and growth
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I used to lie about my sins when I went to confession-
to have something, anything to confess to arouse interest in the priest
to not feel the burden of goodness on me-
and the priest gave me prayers and rosaries to atone for my made up sins
stuck between two divas-I was never meant to stand out
my older sister shouted cries of continued injustice
my younger sister just cried over any little thing
my parents tried their best to give us individual attention
but sometimes I got left behind between the shuffle
of my sisters’ hysterics
and while I hold no ill will towards my sisters or my parents
I wonder what my life would have been life
if I had been the first or last born
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
mami cocoons me in her warmth, holds me carefully so I don’t break
I’m her porcelain baby doll
she nurses me back to health with devotion and dedication
I’m a gift from the heavens-
an unexpected surprise sent to complete our family
and she doesn’t care if I came slightly damaged
As far as what my future holds for me, I’ve been doing a lot of long term goal planning and manifestations the past few years and that’s been working for me. Here’s a recent blog post I wrote about it:
goal setting
The past 2 years was me trying to find out who I was and what I wanted out of life. I had this very vague idea, almost like a sketch but now I have a clear picture of what that is exactly. Getting out of survival mode was crucial for this development and I’m excited about the future. One thing I can tell you is that there will definitely be more storytelling. In fact, for the month of September, I’m telling my story chronologically with some of the moments in my life that most impacted me. This came about organically as I was planning blog content for that month and I said, “fuck it, let’s do this” and “let’s see what happens”. I think that so much of my healing happened because of my storytelling. It was important for me to retell my story because that’s how I took ownership of it. It helped turn me from a victim to heroine in my story and this has been monumental to my healing process. Of course, sometimes that looks crazy and messy but it only proves what a resilient and powerful Queen I am to still be standing despite the chaos and trauma I’ve been through. Here’s a poem I wrote in April about it:
Sharing my story
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at time, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
I restarted this blog a couple of summers ago as a way to cope with my mental breakdown and at the time I had only 17 followers and now I have more than 300 followers who have been incredibly supportive and encouraging throughout this self discovery journey. Thank you to all of you who have given me this safe space on the internet to share my story through blogging and poetry. This has been incredibly instrumental in helping me in my recovery from BPD . It’s given me a sense of love through community that I didn’t know could exist and I’m incredibly grateful and humbled by it. Anyways,if you’ve made it to the end of this blog post, you’re the best. I’m not sure what year 3 after my BPD diagnosis but I hope I continue to evolve and live a life with purpose for the betterment of myself and my kids.
The big question is “Do I still have BPD?” well I had another assessment done in late spring and I still wear the scarlet letters of mental illness, BPD. I was infuriated because I have worked my ass off in therapy, doing all of the healthy things, abstaining from sex and relationships, and reading everything I can to get better and I still have the diagnosis. My therapist did say my symptoms were a lot milder than when I first came in. She also said that it could take several years before I can say I’m “recovered”. She has also recently discharged me from therapy because I’m doing so well and at this point I might be using therapy as a crutch. Ouch. It sounds harsh but honestly, she’s right. Going back to therapy this time around, I went back to get better at regulating my emotions. It sounds strange because while I have done a lot of work and adhere to a strict routine, I still have trouble at times when life gets chaotic or there are big changes. I know too well the consequences of what happens if I don’t get help. So whether that’s medication changes, a refresher on DBT skills. reading books about mental health or even taking time off; I will do whatever it takes to get back to a normal baseline for me so I can continue to heal and thrive.
Another big thing that happened in this second year was that I was able to identify my values and live in alignment with them. Honesty, integrity, community, family, compassion and grace are just a few I identify with this year. Before my diagnosis, I was trying to survive and find solace in these pockets of temporary adrenaline rushes and happiness. I not only caused chaos but also invited it into my life over and over again. It was a realization I had shortly after things ended with me and C last summer. I think that was when I decided I needed to understand what true solitude meant without the distraction of anything resembling lust or romance. It was one of the hardest challenges I had to face. And I won’t lie, the loneliness was crushing at times and it drove me insane on some nights but I relied on my writing and my friends to get me through the worst of it and somehow made it to the other side. And on the other side, was my empowered and higher self. Am I all the way healed? No freaking way. But like I was telling one of my new friends when I was explaining my BPD diagnosis, “I was like Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of Spotless Mind but now I’m much better. I’m way healthier and much better at managing my emotions”.
to be continued in part 3
Life on the BPD 