Poem of the Day: A Sense of Relief
Poem of the Day: The Healer
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Poem of the Day: Divine Intervention
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My Almost Love Affair with Death **trigger for SI**
I don’t remember the first time I had suicidal ideation but I remember the first and only time I made an attempt to end my life. It was the morning of December 5th of 2016. It’s hard to remember the exact events of that day but I do remember the triggers before that day which led me down that dark path. Some people might think that by writing about this I’m sharing too much of my personal life but I stopped caring about other people’s opinions this year. While it is hard for me to revisit that day and tell my story; it is important for me to share my story in hopes that someone somewhere struggling doesn’t feel so alone or that loved ones look for signs if someone near them is in trouble. Talking about suicide and its possible causes is an important conversation to have that should be normalize.
To friends, family, and coworkers, I’ve always tried to maintain this image of having an almost perfect life of suburban bliss. Relatives from Peru, the country I immigrated from have told me that I’m the American Dream. Looking at my social media, this image is perfectly crafted with pictures of me with my family and friends.I specialize in posting those candid family shots at some event in town #momlife, me with friends downtown #girlsnightout, and me at work #bestjobever. You get the point. I’ve crafted this image of being this perfectly put together woman who has it all and does great at balancing all of the expectations and responsibilities thrusted upon her by society. People close to me call me strong, amazing, and awesome. They see this confident woman that manages to handle life and almost every obstacle thrown at her with grace. I remember being 17 after announcing my unplanned pregnancy to friends and one of them telling me, “ I can’t believe how calm you are and how well you’re handling it, I would be freaking out”.I smiled at her and told her, “Well, it’s done now. I just have to deal with it the best way I can”. Even at the tender age of 17, it was ingrained in me to suppress my emotions and show others this facade of being a strong woman. Needless to say, there’s always been a lot of pressure on me to maintain this image. This pressure almost killed me.
In the winter of 2016, my life looked perfect from the outside. I worked from home as a Bilingual Child Support Agent making more money than ever, I’m married to a doting husband, I have 3 wonderful and amazing sons. I even lived in a quaint but nice 3 bedroom house on a street named Candy Ct in a relatively quiet neighborhood. And don’t forget, I still had time to have the occasional girls night. So hashtag perfect life right? What people didn’t know at the time was the following:
–My oldest son, who was a senior in high school at the time and an excellent student, was struggling with one of his classes and I was starting to get calls and emails from the school about it.#failingasmom
–I realized my marriage was unsalvageable and there was nothing either of us could do to save it. #mymarriageisafailure
-I was gaining weight because I was stress eating. #lowselfesteem
–I hated my job as a Child Support Agent and it was taking a major toll on my mental health. I did not handle being yelled at all day with clients well.#Ifuckinghatemyjob
–Also, the political climate was changing for the worst for immigrants and people of color after Trump was elected. #fuckAmerica
And, I was binge drinking at night with my prescribed xanax to deal with all of it. I was also taking Lexapro in the mornings. #selfmedicatingtocope
In November of that year, I was starting to fall into the pit of despair that is depression and while I knew it was happening; I was in denial. I had been here before having PPD with all four of my pregnancies. I kept telling myself that I could keep a handle on it, I didn’t have the time or the luxury of having a mental breakdown. Even though I was making more at my new job, we were still a low income family since I was the only main provider. I had no family to call on or fall back at all if I was to go to a psychiatric institution. Plus, my children needed their mother to be there for them. So I tried to bury any feelings of despair deep within me with the help of alcohol and Xanax.
After weeks of feeling this way, on Sunday, December 4th, I felt a new low that night. I don’t know why I didn’t reach out to friends. I had isolated myself from everyone in a lot of ways. I kept in contact with people close to me but it’s easy to keep a facade of being “okay” when I’m not. I’ve been doing it since I can remember. Gotta love that Quiet BPD. I remember feeling like a complete failure because I was raised by my mother to always be strong or at least keep that façade of strength on the surface to show everyone that you’re not weak or crazy. There had been a couple of “weak women” with mental illness in my mother’s family who were looked down upon because of this. I grew up with this stigma that those with mental illness were “weak” or “not right in the head”. Also, I felt very privileged compared to my mother and aunts who came to this country and had way more hardships than I ever did. I remember thinking that night how nice it would be nice to fall asleep and never wake up. Waking up meant facing my reality that I was a failure at everything in my life that defined me: a mother, a wife, and a worker. The next morning, I woke up around 6:30 am and I felt numb and dead inside. I didn’t want to face my depressing and horrible reality and I made a decision. There was no point in living if I was a failure at everything. Feeling like a failure is worse than death to me. I texted my supervisor and told her I was sick and couldn’t sign in to work, I wrote love letters to my sons, my husband, my parents, and my closest friends trying to explain what I was doing, and I got the coffee from the kitchen counter that my husband had prepared for me and took the xanax bottle that was on the kitchen table to my son’s bedroom where I had been working at. I sat down on the recliner in that room and swallowed each of the 15 pills one at a time. I remember that right after, I got a call from my oldest son’s counselor concerned about him. I vaguely remember the conversation. Right after, something in me made me send a text to my friend Janet from college that lived 10 minutes from me. I honestly don’t remember what I texted her, all I know is that I finally fell asleep. I was woken up from my sleep as my husband shook my shoulders, he was telling me something and I vaguely remember that it had to do with my friend calling him. He wanted me to go to the living room but my legs felt like lead. So he half carried me to the couch in the living room and forced me to drink coffee. I fell asleep shortly after. I remember waking up and talking to my husband but I can’t remember what I said, all I know is that we both made a decision that I needed to quit my job and that afternoon, I emailed my two weeks notice letter to my supervisor. And my friend Janet came in the afternoon and took me to a Mexican restaurant to eat tacos, my favorite comfort food and we talked for a long time about what had happened. I also remember my friend Janet talking to my husband about me. Since I was a legal resident permanent alien at the time, going to a psychiatric hospital was not an option for me. The application for citizenship specifically asks about whether you have been in a psychiatric hospital. Me, my friend, and husband knew that I couldn’t take a chance on my future petition of naturalization being denied. You see, that famous poem on the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore” is really a lie in this case. What America really wants are these almost perfect and model immigrants but that’s another blog post.
After this happened, I fell into a deep depression. It didn’t help that I had also withdrawn from my mental health meds without the advice of my doctor. If it wasn’t for the fact that I kept a journal after this event, I wouldn’t know half of what happened during what happened during that time. I call this time period of my life, “The Great Depression” of 2016 and 2017 that lasted until November of 2017. During “the Great Depression”, I kept my journal religiously, and I gave myself a month before looking for another job, and reached out to a former coworker and friend who referred me to her ex husband for marriage counseling. I also completed and filed my paperwork for naturalization. I also eventually found a job with the school district as a parapro. I even got a tattoo of semi-colon in February to remind myself that my story isn’t over. Even during the great depression, I still tried to be as productive as possible. I also kept this list with me-It was a list of important events (birthday, anniversaries, graduation) that I needed to be alive for. I also kept a list of reasons why I needed to be alive (my kids, parents, husband, friends). I kept these lists with me at all times because that’s how bad my depression was at the time. It was a really dark period of my life.
I reflect on this 5 years later and I feel like this was a lifetime ago. Since that time, I’ve been diagnosed with Bipolar 2 and Borderline Personality Disorder. I’m also on three different kinds of mental health meds and am going to therapy. Depression still visits me from time to time, especially when life gets overwhelming or something drastic happens in my life but I have way better skills to cope with it now and not let it get to an extremely bad place again. I would never tell anyone that I’m cured of depression because that would be a lie but I will say I’m much, much better at not letting it take over my life like it has in the past. Writing my story and sharing it with world may seem excessive to some but I’m sharing my story in the hopes that someone reading this comes to an understanding that people that die by suicide or attempt it are not selfish or cowards; we are people that feel this immense and excruciating pain and we want to escape from it by any means necessary. I also write my story in hopes that if there is someone out there struggling with suicidal ideation and depression; I want them to know that they are not alone and it is possible to get to a better place #youareworthit.
Here are a few helpful links related to this story:
Suicide Prevention:
Therapist locator:
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
Depression and Suicidal Ideation:
https://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/depression-recognizing-signs-of-suicide
Bipolar 2:
https://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/guide/bipolar-2-disorder
Borderline Personality Disorder:
Quiet BPD:
https://www.healthline.com/health/quiet-bpd
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Reflection: My son isn’t a Hero, He’s a Person
April means Autism Awareness and Acceptance month and I felt compelled to write about a realization I recently had about my oldest son, D who has autism. My realization was that he’s not a hero, he’s a person. I want to say that first and foremost, I got permission from him to write this post about him because at some point in the journey, it became his story to tell. I also got his permission because I’m trying to be better about boundaries when it comes to writing about the people in my life. I could actually write more about boundaries but that’s another blog post.
My oldest son was diagnosed at the age of 5 and I was 22. I’ve written about him in a previous post about how he was my hero because of all of the obstacles he’s conquered and how proud I am of him because of that. Here’s that blogpost:
My Amazing Hero
One thing that I didn’t address in that post was how receiving this diagnosis meant me receiving a new identity, a mom with a child on the autism spectrum. Or we are often called autism warrior moms or whatever is trendy at the time. From the age of 22, this identity was deeply ingrained within me. I’ve lost count of how many articles or books I’ve read about autism. I’ve lost count of how many parent teacher conferences or IEP meetings I’ve attended having to fight or advocate for services for my son. I’ve lost count of how many therapists or counselors my son has had. You get my point. Being a mom to a child with autism is not easy. It’s hard, really hard. I’ve mentioned before how my child started to flourish between 3rd and 4th grade and he went on to be successful in his academic career throughout high school. Throughout all of this, I didn’t realize it but I put my child on a pedestal. I don’t know if it was the BPD or me being super excited about my son’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good and healthy thing to encourage my son and support him; but at some point idealizing him put an unhealthy amount of pressure that started to feel like a burden. I won’t say what happened next in this story but I will say that he’s now thriving as a regular 23 year old. I realized this week that at some point I stopped being an autism warrior mom. I think that I understood this sometime in 2016 after my son turned 18 but really accepted it this week. It’s weird when I used to start talking about myself, being a autism warrior mom would be one of the first things I would share and now I don’t feel the need to. When someone who knows me and my son mentions he’s quiet, I’m just like “well he’s just shy”. Like I first mentioned in this post; it’s just no longer my story to share. When I talk about my son, I just say “ he’s D, pretty awesome most of the time but kind of annoying at times.” I’ve also let go of this idealization of him I had. I still admire him and love him for who he is but he’s not a hero; he’s a person.
He’s a person with his own set of issues and insecurities. He’s a person with goals and plans for the future. And talking to him, he wants to be seen that way. I also want to mention that I’m not speaking for all the moms with children with autism, I’m speaking just for myself. Getting here has been difficult but it’s been an important part of the process of me becoming not just a better mother, but a better person as well.
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Poetry: Lost Cause
I wrote this in January of 2003 about Lucas. I was still obsessing about him.
Your love was a lost cause
when it was her you chose
but at night I still toss and turn
wondering why it wasn’t me you yearned
Was it the hurtful fact?
You wanted to keep your life intact
Or was it because
I wasn’t good enough
To make the ultimate sacrifice
to leave your perfect and fake life
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Poetry: Like Every Other Fool
I wrote this 20 years ago on November 1st right before the great breakup of 2001. I wish I could say that I get over breakups quicker now but that would be a lie. After fights or breakups with partners, I seem to always go back to the girl I was in my teens and 20s. My brain is wired that way and I’ve accepted it. It’s something called age regression that shows up in people with Borderline Personality Disorder. Fear of abandonment is so severe that some of us will feel like we are literally dying after a breakup. Some of us will stop eating, some of us will sleep for days, some of will self harm or have suicidal ideation. With each breakup, I’ve noticed I’ve acquired healthier coping mechanisms. Nowadays, I’ve learned to listen more to what I need in order to heal than what doing what I used to do to escape the pain of heartbreak. My method now is cut off all contact with the ex, exercise, write a LOT and do loads of self care. I’m careful not to fall into any quick escapes from my feelings like going on tinder and trying to find someone new. Do I think I will ever get better at accepting a breakup like a normal person? I don’t know but I hope so. While I’m thankful for all of the inspiration and growth that comes from every breakup ;it’s also very overwhelming, exhausting and draining at times.
You showed up unexpectedly in my life
Like a pleasant surprise
Calling and seeing me every day
Making me dinner
and leaving me roses on my dashboard
I thought “finally, the one has come”
Suddenly all of those nice things
started becoming scarce
The dinners, the roses, seeing me
became non-existent
Even talking to you on the phone
has become too much of a bother of you
I’m no fool, I know exactly
where this doomed thing is headed
Pretty soon you’ll give me some lame excuse
As to why “we” can no longer be
And my heart will shatter
into pieces yet again
There will be nothing left to say
I’ll just realize once again
You’re just like every other fool
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Turning 41: Changing the Narrative
“My last year in my 30s ended up with me being an essential worker during a pandemic while being a mom of three and being involved in two different romantic liaisons. I could look back on what I have not accomplished in my life and be sad but instead I’ll focus on my growth and my goals for the next year. I’ve made a lot of progress this year both financially and personally. I’ve improved my credit score by 100 points by working 2 jobs and paying debt off. Also for the first time in my adult life I’m in a healthy romantic relationship with a wonderful man. This time last year I didn’t think either was possible and at times I don’t feel like I deserve all of the good fortune in my life. As I look forward to my next year and my new decade, I hope to really focus on becoming a confident driver, submit my writing everywhere and try to get published, and continue to work my two jobs to save up to buy 2 houses. I’m kind of excited for what the next decade looks like. My thirties taught me I can survive what I once thought would not be survivable. During my thirties, I felt myself merely surviving. In this next decade I look forward to thriving.”
I wrote this a year ago and so much has changed. I can tell you that my 40th year didn’t go as planned. I’m not involved in any romantic relationships.In fact, for the first time in 26 years, I’m not chasing love or the adrenaline rush of being in a romantic relationship. I can honestly say that I am in the healthiest and happiest relationship at this time-with myself. This time last year, I thought that personal growth meant sustaining a “healthy” relationship with someone and now I’m not so sure. I have more to say about this but that’s something I will share later on. I could talk about everything that went wrong this year but I won’t. Honestly, there are parts of that year that I’m not done processing and not ready to talk about and that’s okay. I learned in therapy that grief isn’t linear and I have to honor my process and not to suppress my feelings. It’s hard to write this but it’s my truth. What hasn’t changed is that I’m still working 2 jobs and am actually paying off new debt that I incurred when I went on several binge shopping sprees this summer and fall. I do have to say that my wardrobe is amazing and I’m the best dressed person in the office. I’ve had tremendous growth this year in a lot of areas. I’m in the best shape of my life after I took up angry power walking and running this summer and lost 20 pounds within a 3 months period. I beat this driving phobia I had through exposure therapy. I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality this summer and successfully completed a therapy program that has helped me manage my symptoms in a much healthier way. I started blogging again. I’ve lost count of how many poems and essays I’ve written because this year has been beyond inspiring. The best thing that has happened this year is that I’m finally the woman I had always wanted to be but was too afraid to be. It’s taken a lot of hard work, tears and so much introspection to get here. Here is a place where I no longer run away from my life but I run to it instead. Here is a place where I’m comfortable and in love with solitude and am no longer chasing the high of love in someone else. Here is a place where I look forward to each and every day because I finally understand that my life is a gift and not a burden. Here is a place where I’m no longer just surviving but I’m thriving. Here is a place I want to stay in for a really long time. My goals are for this year are simple:
- Continue to thrive by keeping my life as uncomplicated and drama free as possible.
- Say “yes” to anything that brings growth and progress even if it might feel uncomfortable at the time.
- Say “no” to anything that feels unhealthy or will stagnate my growth and progress.
Here is me looking forward to a calm year full of growth and progress.
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Poetry: Your Little Game
I wrote this in October of 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. I had a lot of residual resentment for my son’s bio dad. Therapy would have helped with processing processing the trauma but at least I had poetry.
The thought of you never escapes my mind
not even for just one night
Your little game has caused me a lifetime of hurt,
resentment, and pain
Now I’ll never be the same
And I will forever ask myself
Why is it me and our innocent child
the ones to suffer for your thoughtless actions?
Him, without someone to call dad
and me,taken away from my youth
Forced to grow up too fast
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Poetry: Father Son Mile
I wrote this in 2002 about my oldest son’s father. I really wanted him to step up to be a dad to our son despite our turbulent past.
You make me think
to look past that fateful night of fucking
So I forced that memory to fade fast
Even when a baby was made
Cause you chose her over me
I had to assume it was fate
That there could neve be a “we”
Just forget about that night
And clean our slate white
And walk with him the father-son mile
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Lessons from 2021
On the eve of the New Year, I reflect on the crazy and wild year that was 2021. It was a year of great transformation for me. There were a lot of changes this year. Some good, some bad, some that made me want to die. Lol. To end this year on a positive note, I will concentrate on the lessons I’ve learned this year:
1. My superpower is my resilience. Life may get crazy and really rough shit may happen to me but I still get up the next morning and show up for myself and others no matter what. It’s important for me to keep moving. This might not work for everybody but it works for me. I may want to lay in bed and dwell in my misery on some days but the fighter in me says “no bitch, get up and do your thing”.
2.It’s okay to say “NO” and sometimes it might be crucial to my mental health to do so. As a former people pleaser that used to love to accommodate for the needs of others, this was a hard lesson to learn. People in your circle will understand that “NO” is a complete sentence and will not try to turn your “NO” into a yes to fulfill their own selfish needs. For me, it’s really a boundary that cannot be crossed.
3.Don’t compromise your authenticity for anyone. I used to have this need to be loved or liked by everyone and sometimes I did this thing where I toned myself down or compromised who I was to the point that I would lose myself. Yeah I don’t do that anymore. People can get tired of me and leave and then what do I have left after I’ve changed into this edited version of myself for them to swallow; a freaking hot mess with a lost sense of identity. Nah, from now on, everyone I meet gets the most authentic version of me. If they don’t like it, they can leave. It’s not a good thing or bad thing, the people that are meant to be in your life will stay.
4.Do whatever it takes to get through the day even if it seems or feels crazy (within reason). One of my favorite phases I’ve come up with for myself is “I may be crazy but at least I’m creative as fuck”. In July, I went through a rough time and had to find new and rather innovative ways to survive. I restarted my blog,I have written more than 100 poems /essays/writings since July, exercised so much I lost 20 lbs, and my most favorite, beat a specific phobia (I’ll blog more about this later on in the new year). I also made loads of videos since that time frame to document my progress and growth.
5. Stop apologizing for your feelings and/or over-explaining yourself. Before you start apologizing for your feelings or over-explaining yourself, ask yourself why you’re doing it. I used to do this a lot as a trauma response.
6. You never stop growing. I’ve learned this year through therapy that there were still these parts of me that were emotionally stunted due to trauma. To be honest with myself, I have to acknowledge that sometimes when I get super angry I go into this type of age regression where I convert back to being an impulsive child that acts out. It’s cringy to say the least but I think that when I get to this stage in my anger, I’m in survival mode and do this to feel like I’m in control of a situation. Now that I’m aware of this, I’m so much better at practicing the pause and mindfulness when I’m angry or I take my impulsive bratty inner child for a run. Lol.
7. No one or nothing can save you from the emptiness, sadness, and feelings of worthlessness you might feel except yourself. I used to think that I needed someone or something for me to feel complete but this year I realized I don’t. If I felt empty or numb, I would chase a new job, a new man, new friends, etc to try to have this feeling of being enough or complete. I won’t say I was wrong; I was just doing the best I could with the information I had at the time. This year I learned to really pause and take the time to appreciate the life that I do have. I also really learned how being alone can be really empowering. It was hard at first but slowly I really started to enjoy my own company. The transformation from being this needy and almost codependent woman to being this confident and independent woman has honestly sucked. However, after many therapy sessions and tears, for the first time in my life, I have a new feeling of self worth and confidence that I’ve never felt before. In all honesty, I feel like I’m finally the powerful woman I always wanted to but didn’t have the courage to be until now.
8. It’s important to take time to rest. I say this acknowledging that I’m privileged enough to take time off from both of my jobs without any consequences. At my second job, when my manager would ask me to stay later or work an extra shift, I would say yes because I felt I had to or needed to. I learned this summer to say “no” and draw my own boundaries with them. I learned that it’s crucial to me to have time to myself for my own well being. And in all honesty, I’ve used work as a way to avoid living my own often hectic and chaotic life especially when it got too overwhelming. Now, I finally have the life I want that I don’t feel the need to run away from.
9. Live your truth out loud. This year I’ve made the conscious decision to be more honest about the life I live. I used to be ashamed and I tried to mask certain parts of my life. I no longer really do that. Most of the people at both my jobs and family know about the complicated personal life I’ve had, my diagnosis, and other areas of my life I thought I needed to keep private. To my surprise, people are incredibly support and not judgmental at all. I’m incredibly lucky that in this area in my life, people are really rooting for me and not against me.
10. It is important for me to feel my feelings and ride the rollercoaster of overwhelming emotions when it comes and it doesn’t make me a weak person. Before being diagnosed with BPD, I used to get so mad at myself or felt shame whenever I felt the intense emotions rise up within me when something upset me or made me sad. I felt weak and irrational and tried to rationalize and fix whatever was wrong with me right away. After my BPD diagnosis, I learned that there is nothing wrong with my emotions. I also learned that it’s important to honor my emotions. It’s important for me to observe my intense emotions and listen to what my mind and body needs. If I’m cranky, maybe I need to rest. If I’m super angry, maybe I need to write salty poetry or exercise. If I’m sad, maybe I need to listen to sad music and cry . 99 percent of the time, honoring my emotions like this has worked and what use to take days of misery to get over now takes hours
I don’t know what lessons 2022 has in store for me but for the first time in a long time I’m excited about life. I’m excited about all of the growth and progress I’ve made this year even if it has been rough at times. I’m excited that right now I’m disciplined enough and have the right tools and environment to continue to make progress with my emotional and physical health. A year ago, I was miserable, tired AF and working at my 2nd while people were feeling sorry for me but today I’m at home in my PJ spending time with my boys and I’m full of optimism. A lot can change in a year and while 2021 was bitter sweet, I’m thankful for the lessons. Here is to 2022 being another year full of lessons, full of growth, and full of hope.
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Unexpected: Pregnancy Loss
On July 27th, 2010 I was in the room with the ultrasound tech and she put the gel on my belly. I was there to hear the sound of my baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I had waited a whole two weeks to hear it since I had booked the appointment. My boyfriend had dropped me off at the doctor. I was alone and the anticipation was killing me. The ultrasound tech was moving the wand every which way and had this weird look on her face. I asked her if everything was okay. She told me, “I really need to get the doctor”. I pleaded with her to tell me what was wrong. And she said, “I can’t find the heartbeat” I was in shock and numb. Then she told me to go out to the waiting room and the Dr would come get me. I remember how the waiting room was full of pregnant women and I started to sob hysterically. Thankfully a receptionist took pity on me and took me to another sparsely populated area. The Dr came and got me and told me the embryo stopped growing at 8 weeks and I was supposed to be 10 weeks along. She showed me the ultrasound. She also gave me a choice -either a D&C or let the miscarriage come naturally. I had just started a job in June and hadn’t accumulated much sick leave so I opted to have the D&C. I had all of these feelings of shame and guilt because I had seriously thought about terminating the pregnancy and I wondered if I had wished it true. I felt guilty because I had gotten blackout drunk a day before finding out I was pregnant. Also, I felt like a failure because my body had not done what it was supposed to do. I felt like somehow I deserved all of this pain and that God was punishing me. Getting through the rest of that day and putting up my facade of strength and having to tell my 2 kids along with other family members and friends was horrible.
The next morning I went to have a D&C and I woke up crying from the procedure. The nurse that was next to me told me that everything happens for a reason and to trust God. “Everything happens for a reason” and “Trust in GOD” and “It wasn’t the right time” would be among the few sayings that I would get from well meaning friends, family, and co-workers. I buried my grief in exercising and eating healthy irrationally believing that it was my body’s fault that I had the miscarriage. It didn’t help that my boyfriend was kind of blaming me as well because of that whole blackout drunk incident early in the pregnancy. Even though the logic in my head told me that pregnancy loss is a common occurrence that happens to 1 in 4 women with no real rhyme or reason for most of those pregnancies;my irrational thoughts took over for a bit. What helped me through the grief other than exercising was joining a support group and being able to process that grief and feel validated in my feelings with other people that had experienced the same thing. An experience like this changes you in a way that you remember who you were before the experience and after it. Obviously I’ve healed from that experience but I still experience some sadness on that day. One interesting thing that happened 3 years ago when I came to work on July 27 was that there was a random “Happy Birthday” balloon by the entrance of my office building. I took it as a positive sign from the universe.
I share this story because it is important to fight the stigma associated with pregnancy loss. It is also important for others to feel like they can share their stories without being judged.
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Poetry: In the ICU
I wrote this poem in 2018 when my grandmother passed away. She was in the ICU for about a week before she passed and it was tough on the family.
She lies between this world and the next
She can’t decide between her husband
Or her kids
She is tired, she is drained, she is 94
She lies between this world and the next
She needs to let her body decide a final rest
But her spirit wants to stay
withinIn the cocoon of her family
She lies between this world and the next
She slowly feels her ancient and battered body
Give up….
It is tired of the endless pain
And her spirit
slowly agrees
And
Lets her leave in peace to the heaven that is him
Life on the BPD 