I search for peace and tranquility but it evades me
sometimes I find it but it quickly dissipates
Feeling so much all of the time gets exasperating
I yearn for a vacation from this intensity
I’m starting to think this is my destiny
To fall in love hard and feel heartbreak even harder
To write a few poems when I’m in love
To write a hundred poems when I face another love failure
maybe it’s best to truly accept me
a girl sometimes full of serenity
a girl always full of intensity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
at 17, the pregnant bride to be got a telegram from her groom
sorry, but I’m betrothed to another and am getting married
at gun point
maybe it was the heavy feeling of rage or her aries nature
and hormones
the jilted bride with a silent fury went to her closet
and took out her ostentatiously beaded wedding dress
and with matches in her hand
she went outside and set fire to it in front of the family home
one of the younger siblings saw the insanity as the bride
stared at it mesmerized by fire that grew and grew
she walked towards it
all sense of reality gone from her
not hearing the screams from her abuela who ran towards her
and just before the bride step foot in the fire
la abuela shook her and slapped her across the face
until the bride reacted, let out a loud wail heard
across the farmland and fainted
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the plane slowly takes off
and I take flight with it
I leave behind past troubles,past trauma
and go on an adventure
to find healing and the best version of myself
My middle name is Elizabeth. I’m not sure why my parents chose this middle name other than the fact that it was the most generic white sounding name easy to pronounce and a few cousins and one aunt had this middle name. I was never been attached to it until my 30s when I took the shortened version of it, “Eliza” and unintentionally chose this as my alter ego and later on as a pseudonym for my writing. After the great depression of 2016 and 2017, followed what I now called the “great manic episode of 2018” in which Eliza first appeared. During that time, I did many unhealthy and toxic things like go on an array of dating apps, drink heavily, and just indulge in these terrible and self destructive behaviors.
I used Eliza as the profile name for those dating apps and also, when I started blogging again in 2019. After much therapy and introspection, I’ve determined that Eliza is my shadow side, my alter ego that’s been much needed to deal with my depression, my anger, my madness-basically the worst of my mental illness. She was much needed to be able to deal when my emotions got overwhelming and I didn’t know how to keep going. I’ll say that while she’s caused much mischief, as I’ve started to recover from mental illness, she’s been instrumental in healing. I’ve learned to used this side of me to do badass and awesome things like conquer my driving phobia, learn to swim, travel to my homeland, write rage poetry, and perform at open mic.
As time passed and I recovered more and more, I learned that eventually, I’d get to integration of self and I’d had to let go of her. Well, sort of. It took a while to get to the integration of self and this took many steps (I’ll write more about this in another blog post). The last step to get to my integration where I would become my most authentic self was my divorce which was 6 months ago. I knew as soon that afternoon after my divorce was finalized, I’d have to let go of Eliza, as a pseudonym, an alter ego, a protective entity to protect me. That afternoon, I switched all of my social media profiles and my two blogs to my real name.
It was a very scary thing to do but a much needed one to finish this process of integration I started a few years ago. It was hard because for so long I hung onto this part of me that had gotten through the roughest of times and also, using my real name everywhere was extremely uncomfortable but I had to do it. I’m not going to lie and say that Eliza is completely gone because she’s not but she’s integrated into who I am now and I no longer use her as an excuse when my anger gets the best of me and a rage poem comes out. The best way to put it is that I’ve fully accepted that she’s a part of Patty but no longer controls me, defines me or is even the worst of me. She just is. I’ve learned the past few years how to manage this part of me in a much healthier manner that’s been productive and helpful to me in achieving my goals. Here are three poems I’ve written about her:
Eliza and Patty
If you’re gonna love Patty-you’re going to have to live with Eliza
She’s the dark and loud side of me
I try to keep her at bay , I try to ignore her
But then something angers me and she appears
I used to loathe her and say-hey, that’s not me-but now I accept
She’s always been a part of me
She makes me brave and strong-she makes me crazy and creative
I haven’t had writers block since I’ve stop trying to suppress her
And while it’s embarrassing that I have an alter ego
She was necessary for progress and growth
10/13/22
Shadow
my shadow waits and waits to be integrated
she’s been patient long enough
she wants me to feel the true power of being whole
she’s stayed too long in the sidelines as I called her “bad”
and a “complete stranger” and I was ashamed of her
and at times she jolted me and came out during my bouts
of impulsivity or my super angry poetry
and now I finally understand she’s me
Well the part within me I hate to acknowledge
but I’m no longer afraid of her
and understand her and am ready for her
to be acknowledged and take her rightful place within
She will no longer be treated like a dirty mistress
Nah, she’ll rule like a queen and I’ll feel whole and empowered
11/26/22
I run with my shadow
my transformation and rebirth meant giving voice to my shadow
who’s vindictive, petty, and mean
I’ve never really allowed her to breathe
much less be seen
and now she’s almost everywhere-
taking space in uncomfortable spaces
learning she’s not bad-
she just needed attention and to feel valued
I’ve finally accepted she’s an important part of me
who needs to be heard, seen and loved
12/10/22
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.
I hate it when men ask me, “what’s your bra size?”
it’s like my bust-line invites unwanted and sexist questions and comments
about my body
and it makes me want to throw up and write about them violently
because out of all of the questions in the world to ask ME,
a mother, a public health worker, a grocery store clerk, an immigrant,
a Peruvian, an American, a friend, a poet, a blogger, a woman,
a PERSON-
they choose to ask me an awkward question about my body-
I used to entertain them and tell them while laughing uncomfortably
holding in my disgust and anger for them
but now I either ignore them, call them out, or block them
my boobs or any part of my body are no longer up
for the objectification of others
I wrote this poem in December of 2021. I was kind of angry. Lol.
Let’s hashtag the fuck out of our imperfect perfect lives
smile for the camera but make it look candid
this is for instagram after all-
we want to present an image of authenticity
Authentic needs to look put together and balanced
there can be no cracks in our suburban realities
no one wants to see tears and frowns
let’s continue to act like modern clowns
except our lipsticks presents a false smile
that hides our misery inside and let’s add a witty caption
that spells out live,laugh, love
and hashtags about #momlife,#gratitude, and #bestlifeever
depression, sadness, and anger has no room in our modern world
where we pretend to be perfectly imperfect moms and wives
with these amazing and perfect lives
let’s continue the facade of authenticity
even as we burn inside and want to die
we are not just okay but we are fucking fabulous
so honey continue to smile for that selfie
even as the expectations of modern womanhood
continues to burn us all up
How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?
I used to think I was the poster girl for failure
I’m a failure at love, I’m a failure at life, I’m a failure at everything
but all of these are thoughts of a past version of me
the version of me who saw herself as a victim
the version of me who took comfort in her misery
in my middle age I changed that narrative
I no longer see myself as a failure
I see myself as a person who makes mistakes
who’s deeply flawed, who has caused pain
it’s doesn’t make me a loser or a disaster
It makes me a human who’s trying her best to live her life
and sometimes that doesn’t always look pretty
I now see failure as stepping stone,a learning curve
to continue to grow, to continue to evolve
to become better and healthier than I’ve been before
Life on the BPD 