love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos right now I stand alone, get myself together before trying to fall into the magic of love again
I feel timid lately and want to hide in a tomb the kind of tomb you’d find on the grounds in some decrepit motel there I wouldn’t have to function at all there I could get lost in my thoughts and make up scenarios in my head There’s no one’s energy would impact me in a way that makes me feel hopeless and worthless
guilt and despair fills you up from the pain you’ve caused and you’re in the thick fog of darkness so you write poetry and cry and idealize death because in your time-therapy was still a new thing and the cure for your hysteria was a lobotomy and there was no such thing as DBT and no one to tell you that feelings are temporary
if self sabotage was an olympic sport, I’d win the gold medal so many times I’d been close to reaching my potential only to screw it up later maybe it’s the insecure and anxious little girl who still lives within me who’s scared of conquering fears and chasing her dreams I need to figure out a way to quell her to give her closure and peace so she’ll let me be live in peace and stop sabotaging everything
I’m going to paint the sky with all of the colors of your love red, green, yellow, dark gray, midnight blue, and black every single color you’ve brought to my life it’s will be the most epic mural who beauty will rival the taj mahal a mural decided to my own miracle of your love
Nature’s kiss is the sunshine on my face as I run- and it’s hug is the wind against my body as I fall into the rhythm of the song I’m listening to- nature was part of God’s remedy for the darkness and despair I tend to fall into
siempre Guerrera-Also Happy Peruvian Independence DAY!
I embrace the crone I’m becoming and let go of the last vestiges of girlhood no longer will I twirl my hair, bat my eyes, or make myself cute and soft for the male gaze trying to get their attention from now on I’ll accept my wrinkles, my aches, my gray hair, my crow’s feet as proof that I have lived and experienced a life few would’ve survived as proof that I am a goddamn Guerrera
One day I’ll find the one who’ll break down the fortress that guards my vulnerability He’ll know how to handle me He’ll tell me “I’m impossible when I’m too much” but will show his love and loyalty he’ll annoy me because he’s human but our joy will outweigh our conflict and we’ll stress each other out but never lose sight of the epic love we feel for one another
maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there in another state, another country who needs a roadmap, Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom in navigating a hard situation they never thought they had to face maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple out there who’s struggling can find something useful in my story, in my prose, and my poetry to get through their own hardship through the worst of it and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together in intimacy and find their own happy ending
my energy is a precious commodity i don’t give it to anybody my time and effort now has to be earned because of so many false starts and lessons learned I’d rather embrace my solitude than once again Become Joe from “YOU” because I’m much to beautiful to fall for another insensitive fool
the intruder within me won’t quit she remembers every wrong done to her and every mistake she’s made and starts the game of how much self loathing i can take And I used to try to quell her with affirmations but lately I tell her-tell me more- And I listen and write out her words about every insecurity that still plagues me and she stops because it’s no longer fun so she leaves once she’s acknowledged and once again I return to my inner peace
When I saw this prompt from wordpress, I was going to write maybe a poem about how blogging has become an outlet for my storytelling and healing but the day had other plans for me. Today, I woke up exhausted as hell because I haven’t had a day off in three weeks and my emotional bandwidth is extended to the point it’s about to break or snap with my upcoming divorce hearing and every fucking feeling is just coming up. Still, I decided to go to work this morning even though I didn’t want to. I was trying to fake being okay but I just couldn’t. I felt this ball of rage inside of me seethe and persist and I started crying. I went to the bathroom and tried to compose myself and called a friend and she calmed me down to the point I didn’t feel like rage quitting my job anymore. And I got back to work, tried to mask and then the rubberband of my emotional bandwidth broke and I started dissociating. It felt like what I was doing and living wasn’t real. I told my boss and I left work early. As soon as I got into my car and started it, I felt this wave of relief. As soon as I got home, I called my friend who was incredibly supportive and felt better. It’s really hard to write to this blogpost and be so candid and vulnerable in trying to explain the challenges I face with BPD. Throughout the past two years, I’ve been able to convey how living with mental illness is like through poetry, essays, etc. It’s not easy but something in me thinks it’s important to share my story. With therapy and hard work, I’m able to manage my symptoms 80 to 90 percent of the time but today was one of those days when this episode of dissociation came up and it was scary as hell. The best way to describe it is this “inside me” watching me go through the motions of life faking it while “inside me” is in flight or fight mode. Normally, I just fight it until I feel grounded again with one of my coping mechanisms. That could be writing in my journal, calling a friend, exercising, or any one of my DBT skills. This time, my dissociation felt out of control and impossible to manage because I started to question whether or not what I was living was real or not. It was me asking myself, “is this reality or a dream?” . I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I didn’t saw this episode coming. My mood swings have been between extreme highs and extreme lows. I describe it as between a euphoric “Pollyanna” I have the best life viewpoint on one day to “Debbie Downer” Everything sucks, I just need to get through the day viewpoint the next day.
I wash my hands of all my past sins my wrongs never defined me It was a toxic narrative I swallowed whole when I was addicted to suffering and being a martyr
When I was a teen I was the girl guys hid They were embarrassed to be seen with me and now in my middle age men want to brag about fucking me even if it was that one time and while I’m not ashamed of my sexuality I still hate this misogynist reality of how my body and my sexual intensity makes me fodder for men’s sexism maybe it’s toxic masculinity Or maybe men can’t see past my powerful sexual energy They need to remember I’m also crazy and when they relegate me to a sexual object they become my subject for my salty poetry
these must be the new dark age of my life where I can’t find my life’s purpose, where I cry because I don’t think I’ll ever be loved where the sleeping pills in my drawers are tempting me to end my misery
Life on the BPD 