I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
love is a magnet for my insanity
love is a magnet for feeling worthless
love is magnet for everything wrong in me
so I locked the door to my heart with a padlock
and threw away the key
I can’t trust myself again to risk my vulnerability
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: Pretending
¿Te haces el idiota o en serio estas ciego?
regresando a mi vida con un aire de indiferencia
como que aqui no paso nada
como que no me jodiste la vida
y te atreves a extenderme tu mano
como si fuéramos amigos
como si el tiempo mi hiciera olvidar el infierno de tu abandono
y como me dejaste solita para enfrentar las consecuencias
de nuestra irresponsabilidad
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
The volcano that lived inside of me
is ready to erupt and about to ruin everything
my explosive anger cannot be reigned in
this intensity is a consequence of my BPD
and it will cause my lover to flee
the lava of me will make him wary
and once again, I’m left
in the desolate land of lonely
wishing away the volcano inside of me
I wrote this play for my creative writing class in college in 2006.
Characters
LACIE-Female/Age 28
JASON-boy/age 8
DAD(DALE)-Age 56
MOM(MARY)-Age 45
Setting
This takes place in a nice and clean kitchen and there is a refrigerator with pictures and Jason’s drawings and also a table.
LACIE enters following MARY into the kitchen door and sits down. LACIE puts her coat on the chair. LACIE is coming home from prison. LACIE walks with a slight limp and sits down.
LACIE: Damn, Mom, the kitchen looks a helluva lot different compared to the last time I was here.
MARY: Well, I guess I forgot to mention to you. We renovated the kitchen last summer.
LACIE: Well, I gotta tell ya , you really outdid yourself.
MARY: Yeah, well with your dad’s new job, we’ve been able to do a lot of things around here we always wanted to do but never had the money to—
LACIE: Wait, Dad got a new job? God, he’s been at Phillips Assembly for years, I thought he would stay there forever.
MARY: Well, ya know we thought it was time for him to move on to something else…something where he could better our situation.
LACIE: Still, Dad and change, you know damn well those are just two things that don’t go together.(Looks at fingernails and bites them.) So, where is he working?
MARY: Dacute Enterprises. He’s an overseer for their assembly line.
(LACIE bursts out laughing.)
MARY: Hey, what’s so funny?
LACIE: Who in their right mind would give a drunk a supervisory position?
(MARY frowns.)
MARY: Well, maybe things have changed more than ya think.
LACIE: Whadda ya mean?
MARY: You’ll see. So, how does it feel to finally be back home?
LACIE: Pretty good. But damn, I didn’t imagine that so much shit would change ‘round here.
MARY: Hey, watch your language around here!
LACIE: It didn’t bother ya before.
MARY: Well, we don’t talk that way no more.
(LACIE gives MARY a dismissive look.)
MARY: Ya know, for Jason’s sake.
LACIE: Okay, then.
MARY: So, ya hungry?
LACIE: Yeah.
MARY: Whadda ya feel like eating?
(MARY goes to the refrigerator and looks for something to cook.)
LACIE: Anything really.
MARY: Okay.
(MARY pulls out something to cooks fridge. LACIE looks at JASON’S artwork on
the side of the fridge.)
LACIE: So, these are Jason’s drawings?
(MARY closes fridge and looks proudly at artwork.)
MARY: Yeah, creative ain’t he?
LACIE: Yeah, I see that. I can’t wait ‘til he gets home. Me and him have lotsof catching up to do.
MARY: Don’t get so excited , we really do need to talk about—
LACIE: Later, I don’t feel up to listening to one of your talks…had to listen to enough of them when you use to visit me.
(MARY lets out a big sigh.)
MARY: Okay.
LACIE: So, when’s he coming home?
MARY: Well your dad shoulda picked him up from voice lessons ten minutes ago so they should be home maybe in 30 minutes.
LACIE: Voice lessons? What the….I mean, when did this happen?
MARY: Six months ago,the reverend at church heard him singing one day and thought he was pretty good and so he suggested voice lessons to fine tune his instrument, whateva that means. Your dad didn’t wanna let him at first, but Jason, as always, found a way to convince him.
LACIE: Church huh? Since, when did y’all start going to church?
MARY: Well…
LACIE: Ya know something; I need a beer about now.
(LACIE gets up and looks in the fridge for a beer.)
LACIE: Where does dad keep the beer nowadays? I can’t find it.
MARY: Your dad doesn’t drink anymore.
(LACIE slams the refrigerator door and sits down.)
LACIE: What do you mean dad don’t drink no more? You gotta be joking right?
MARY: Now why would I joke about something like that?
LACIE: He don’t drink no more? At all?
MARY: Nope. It was one of the conditions the social worker gave us that your dad had to agree to so the state would let us have custody of Jason. I wanted him to tell you himself, but—
LACIE: What the hell! I mean I know I’ve been gone for a while, but sheesh I expected at least a few things to stay the same.
MARY: I thought you’d be happy your dad stopped drinking. I know it’s something you used to always whine about.
LACIE: I know I did, it’s just that…
MARY: What is it?
LACIE: Never mind. Well, at least I can count on one thing and that’s finally getting to know my kid. I can’t wait to see him. I wonder if he’ll still remember me—
MARY: We need to talk.
LACIE: I told you, I don’t feel like—
MARY: You just don’t know. There are some things that we’ve had to tell—
(DALE enters with JASON running. Jason notices Lacie and hides behind Mary’s chair.)
MARY: I wasn’t expecting y’all so soon. (Gives DALE an accusatory look.)A call sure
would’ve been nice.
DALE: Well, I didn’t expect J’s lesson to let out so early and since I was—
JASON: Who’s that?
(Lacie approaches Jason slowly.)
LACIE: You should know who I am, now come over here and give your –
(Dale immediately gets in between Lacie and Jason and pulls Jason to him, faces him.)
MARY: Sister a big hug. Don’t ya remember we talked last week about a sister that might be coming to live with us?
JASON: Oh! Now, I remember! The one living in…in (Jason starts scratching his head)
DALE: Europe for the past six years.
JASON: That’s right…Hey, I’m Jason
(Extends hand to LACIE, LACIE grabs him and hugs him, JASON is real uncomfortable. LACIE won’t let go of JASON, MARY goes and rescues JASON from LACIE’S grasp and pulls him towards her. LACIE’S eyes tear up.)
MARY: Jason, honey, why don’t you go wash up and go to your room for a little while your dad and I catch up with your sister.
JASON: Okay, Mommy.
(JASON leaves, but looks back in kind of a weird way at LACIE.)
(LACIE stands there for a minute and then walks towards where JASON went, MARY stops her by grabbing her by the shoulders. They’re facing each other.)
MARY: Don’t!
LACIE: Sister? Europe? What kinda lies have you been telling MY son?
DALE: Keep your voice down, the boy will hear you.
(MARY motions for LACIE to sit down but LACIE won’t.)
MARY: Sit down, please, your dad and I need to explain a few things to you.
LACIE: Explain what? That you have basically stolen my son from me… YOU promised me he would know who I was once I got out. No fucking wonder you wouldn’t bring him to come visit me. I ain’t gonna listen to this shit.
(LACIE heads towards the door to get JASON but DALE stands in front of the door.)
LACIE: Get outta my way, you—
DALE: Sit down and shut up and LISTEN to what me and your ma have to say if you care about Jason at all.
LACIE: Shit! That’s funny coming from you considering all my life the only thing you ever cared about was your fucking Rolling Rock. I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess if you hadn’t been such a sorry-
(DALE slaps LACIE across the cheek, MARY pulls them apart, all three of them just stand there for a moment.)
LACIE: I don’t need this shit! I’m getting my son and leaving this hellhole!
MARY: Please, Lacie, don’t be so damn stubborn and hear us out—
LACIE: Why the hell should I?
(LACIE walks towards the door again.)
MARY: If you’re not a completely selfish bitch, you will-
(LACIE stops and faces MARY.)
LACIE: Selfish, like you should be one to fucking talk calling ME selfish when you’re the one who wouldn’t stop HIM(pointing to DALE) from beating the shit out of me when he—
MARY: Just calm down and let me explain some things to you
LACIE: I guess I’ll have to just so you leave me alone. (Crosses her arms with a scowl)
(MARY sits down.)
MARY: Okay, okay. When you had your little incident-
LACIE: Damn, you make it sound like I tripped and fell or something.
DALE: What your ma means is that when you were arrested, we found out all of a sudden you had a son.
MARY: Yeah, you don’t think it took us by surprise? You were gone for two years and we looked everywhere for you—
LACIE: And so because you’re pissed off at me, you decided to get back at me by telling MY son that you are his parents.
MARY: When are you going to learn the whole world doesn’t revolve around you? What we did was out of love for our grandson. Now just listen…as I was saying we looked for you everywhere.
DALE: And then the cops come up to the house one day and tell us you have killed your husband and if we could take our grandson in.
MARY: A grandson that needed so much out of us and we had no choice and saw ourselves raising your son.
DALE: We started to see things in a new way, ya know.
MARY: All we wanted for him was to grow up with a normal family… so yeah
for his well being…we told him we were his parents, and you were his sister.
LACIE: I can’t believe you did this!
DALE: What did you expect us to do? Tell him that his real mom was in jail for killing his father.
LACIE: Oh and you think I killed him for fun or something, I had to kill that asshole to save both me and Jason…you don’t fucking understand…that sick bastard had already broken my leg and when I found him trying to mess with Jason…I knew I had to do something to save him from that monster and I didn’t care if I went to jail for it.
DALE: What’s done is done, there’s no turning back. You can either stay here and live under these conditions or you can leave.
LACIE: I can’t fucking believe this, Mom, I expected you out of all people to understand. Don’t you understand? Everything I did, I did it for him!
MARY: I do understand but …you should understand, we were left with no other choice other than to do the right thing for him.
LACIE: And that’s all you have to say!
DALE: Like I said before, you can either live with this or you can go.
LACIE: I guess I’ll just have to—
(A basketball bounces into the kitchen and JASON enters the room skipping looking for his ball.)
JASON: Just came to get my ball…
(Picks up basketball and holds it.)
MARY: What did I tell you about playing ball in the house?
JASON: I’m sorry …won’t do it again…sheesh.
LACIE: Hi…
JASON: You okay?
LACIE: Yeah, I’m fine…I’m just a little sad.
JASON: Why
LACIE: I have to make a choice about something important.
JASON: Why?
LACIE: Because I just have to.
JASON: Um…okay. (gets his ball) I got an idea… maybe if you play some b-ball with me…you might feel better.
LACIE: That’s actually not a bad idea.
Both Lacie and Jason go out together.
What notable things happened today?
I wrote this poem in January of this year
My lack of worth of self-esteem allowed me to accept
not even the bare minimum from lovers
as long as they showed any interest in me,
any sign of wanting me, I’d give them my energy
made them the muse of my poetry
put them on a pedestal where I worshiped them like a deity
and made what I mistook for love my religion
thought each one was the one because of my inability to find self-love
it was the version of me who thought the world began and ended
with the love of a man
It was the version of me who didn’t know that alone
I had always been whole, I had always been enough
I didn’t know what kind of post I was going to write for Mental Health/ BPD awareness month but then I saw the news about the death of blogger Heather Armstrong appear on my newsfeed. Here’s an article about her passing: https://apnews.com/article/dooce-heather-armstrong-dead-83c8f4812bda1766301793ea3afb02cb
I want to preface this by saying that I haven’t had a suicidal ideation episode since May of 2022 and here’s the blog post about that:
Borderline Awareness Month: I Could be 1 in 10
I think the news of Heather Armstrong hit me hard because well, looking on the surface, her life seems almost idyllic. This is a rich white woman who has all of the resources at her disposal to help her get to a much healthier state with her mental health and I’m like WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? WHAT THE FUCK WENT WRONG? While I could speculate why or how this happened, I won’t. What I will say is that nobody could possibly understand why she made that decision or how much suffering she was in. This made me reflect on my own journey with recovering from mental illness.
I have battled depression and anxiety since I was a teenager except I wasn’t formally diagnosed with it until after I had my third child in 2012. It’s been a not so well kept secret in my family that I continuously tried to mask to seem well, normal to everyone else. For years, I’ve mostly kept my depressive episodes to myself because more often than not when I’ve disclosed I’m depressed, I’m met with the comments: “You need to get over it , we have no time for this” or “Think about your kids” or “But you have SO MUCH to live for”. I know the people making those comments thought they were being helpful but all it did was drive me further into a spiral of shame for having no control over my brain chemistry and being depressed. It adds fire to the fuel of my inner critic who tells me during this episode, “let’s add being a failure as a mom to your thoughts about being a worthless and terrible human being”.
The Elephant
The sun is shining
Everything is green and bright
And yet winter feels eternal
In my heart and my mind
I feel a profound darkness that
Seems to seep and ooze everywhere
Inside of me
Is this what true loneliness feels like?
Will I ever get rid of what feels like
my forever depression?
Or do I just learn to live
with the elephant that
lives on my chest?
That I try desperately not to wake it up
Writing, exercise, friends, tv-
Everything to keep it calm
But no matter what
The elephant always seems
To wake up
In a lot of my poetry, I’ve talked about the impossible pressure I’ve had to deal with in being a mother but I don’t think I talk enough about how this was modeled for me growing up. Growing up, I saw my mother as this larger than life woman who constantly worked hard and sacrificed for her family. She worked countless hours to provide for us. She was this superwoman who at one point had 3 jobs and still managed to keep a clean house and cook dinner. I remember her sleeping a couple hours after she got home from an overnight shift at her job and waking up to walk me to school in the morning. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I never saw my mom breakdown or cry.
The message I received and perceived was one that in order to be a good mother, you have to be this superwoman who balances everything perfectly all the time. Being a good mother also meant being strong and resilient and if needed it was necessary to suppress emotions to continue to function. When I became a mother at 17, I had these unrealistic expectations of motherhood that I wanted to attain. And we wonder why I ended up with a diagnosis of BPD-lol. Honestly, while I’ve healed a lot from my past, I feel like it’s still necessary to share it because this isn’t just my story. It’s the story of other mothers who are still ashamed about having a mental illness and more often than not, don’t seek help and mask, mask, mask until they explode.
I’ve often talked about how my children are one of my greatest motivators for continuing to move forward with my life, to try to continue with my self improvement; but what I have failed to talk about is how my children are a major source of guilt while I’m in a major depressive episode. If I had to be honest with myself and everyone else, when I’ve been in that really dark place with my depression, I’ve had thoughts about how maybe my kids would be better off without me, how my kids deserve a better mother than me.I’m coming from a very vulnerable place talking about this. I also want to add that I haven’t been in this dark place with these thoughts since 2021. It is a fucking scary place to be in and it’s something I would never wish upon my worst enemy. Thankfully, I have always been able to pull myself out of this headspace and seek help if I need to. However, once I start to get out of this head space, guilt over how selfish I was for not thinking about kids hits me and ooof I’m off to a shame spiral that almost loops back around to another depressive episode but nowadays I’m able to get a better handle on it. In January of this year, when I had another major depressive episode, my worst thought was, “I don’t think I’m doing enough to improve the lives of me and children ” which is irrational for many reasons. Anyways, I decided then and there that I needed to go back to therapy. It was hard to make that decision but in order to prevent my depression from getting worse; it was necessary. Some part of me felt like a failure because of how many healthy coping mechanisms I have now, how much emotional support I have from family and friends, and how much therapy I’ve had; I felt like I should be able to get this on my own. However, I’d rather be safe than sorry and get the extra guidance and help I need so I can get through this depressive episode before it gets worse. It hasn’t always been this way for me. For several years, I thought that the brave thing to do was to suffer in silence and try to get through my depression on my own. Journaling consistently since 2019 has helped me get through the worst of it but looking back on those journal entries, I’m filled with grief for the version of me who thought strength and being brave meant keeping it all in. I’m filled with grief at the version of me holding it together trying to balance it all and functioning at work when inside all I wanted to do was die or disappear. However, I hold compassion for that woman because she was doing what she knew best to survive. And sure at times that looked messy and unhealthy but at the end of day what matters is that I’m still here.
Here’s a poem I wrote about my depression in 2020:
Darkness
The Darkness comes back
with a fierce strength
and takes over my mind
I want to run
I want to hide
But most of all I want to die
The Darkness comes back
like a hurricane
and wrecks my body and mind
and I don’t want to work
and I don’t want to talk
and I don’t want to breathe
The Darkness comes back
and not even the promise of love
keeps it away
Fortunately for me, I learned to work through my feelings of shame in getting the help I needed to get better. My mental health improved drastically after getting a BPD diagnosis and here’s the post about that:
A New Diagnosis: BPD
I’m very fortunate that my meds, my therapy, and the strict routine and consistency I now have in my life has improved my mental health so much, my depressive episode and low moods are milder and my quality of life has gotten so much better. I know that even in 2023,there is still so much pressure on mothers to be superwomen, to be “brave” and fight their battles alone but it doesn’t have to be this way. I hope that any mother out there struggling with depression/mental illness who might happen upon my blog post understands that they don’t have to fight this battle alone. In this journey, it is important to understand that being brave can also be taking the first step to seeking out the help you need to get healthier. I’m lucky to have found my own village ( my support system, my therapists, my writing community) to improve the quality of my life; my hope is that other mothers find their own village as well to lead healthier and happier lives.
I want to end this post with a poem I wrote in February of this year:
The Finish Line
I have yet to cross the finish line of my uprising, my marathon of healing-
Sometimes I stumble and fall for a few days, a few weeks.
a month when life gets overwhelming
I dissociate and drive around aimlessly
Forget about all the progress I made-
but always get up and do the best I can
Sometimes I mask well enough to fool the people in my life
Sometimes, it’s not enough and they start asking what’s wrong
but somehow I always manage to get back to a place where
I move forward and evolve-
listen to my therapist-
healing isn’t linear-healing is messy
and just because I stumble sometimes,
it doesn’t mean I can’t cross the finish line
Below are some resources that helped me along my journey:
Back from the Borderline podcast episodes that have really helped me
One thing I want to add about the above resources I have shared is that I take notes from the books/podcast episodes . I jot down certain phrases, concepts, or quotes that resonate with me and/or I find helpful. I take notes on sticky notes and have a notebook where I taped them later in a notebook where I write about it as to why I related to it or why it was helpful. This method of mine works for me in finding understanding the book better or validating my experience. You don’t have to do this at all, of course. It’s just what I found helpful. Also, if you want more books or resources, feel free to contact me:
Contact Info
I also want to add other helpful resources:
Below is a link to find a therapist and other mental health professionals-
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I’m finally free from the chains of love
I felt truly a slave to it
Thinking I needed it, thinking I wanted it
But the truth is
the only person I ever needed was me
I never needed anyone else to care for me,
to love me
it’s always temporary until they leave
Today marks my independence day
from love’s heavy and terrible weight
Because I am worth more than another fickle soul
Who I always become too much for
Because I deserve a sense of emotional stability
After so many emotional scars caused by love
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
She’s soft and submissive, kind and generous
She’ll do anything for love, she’s loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
She’ll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Some days I can’t deal with the boredom and restless
It all leads to chronic feelings of emptiness
And I asked myself
Is it time for another depression spell?
And I’m annoyed by me, by everything
I attend to whatever I think my brain and my soul needs
Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s sunshine
Sometimes it’s writing
Sometimes nothing appeases the Gods of BPD
And I just to deal with my emotional instability
I wish for at least a week of tranquility within
Instead of a pendulum of ever changing mood swings
When will I finally get calm and peace?
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/30/poesia-pequenas-riquezas/
he watches her as she sleeps
and the emotions she stirs up in him
this was supposed to be a casual agreement
where only each other’s primal needs got met
she’s not easy or convenient
she has way too many issues
and yet here he is starting to love her
May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month and I wanted to honor it by sharing my spotify playlist from my favorite Asian American and Pacific Islander Artists. I have a special connection to Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders because I grew up in Hawaii. Some of my favorite people are Asian American like my childhood friends and my oldest son. Growing up in Hawaii, I listened to various Asian American and Pacific Islander artists like Iz, Hawaiian Style Band, Fiji, Kai, etc. I had the pleasure of seeing Fiji in a concert in Hawaii in the 90s. Recently, I’ve discovered other artists like Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray and Joji.
I started listening to Olivia Rodrigo in the summer and fall of 2021. To say that I was obsessed with her music would be the understatement of the year. Alexa still wakes me up with “Good 4 U” every morning (I haven’t figured out how to change it to something else-tbh-lol). Rodrigo’s debut album “Sour” really resonated with me on every level when I was going through a rough time in my life. There’s even hilarious videos of me drunk singing some of these songs (I watch them sometimes if I ever need to laugh-haha). I listened to Sour so many times, two of my sons know the lyrics to “Traitor” and sometimes for fun, we sing it at Family Karaoke Night.
In the fall of 2022, I discovered Conan Gray. Well, it’s more like I became obsessed with his song “People Watching” and then I listened to the rest of the album “Superache” and every single song resonated with me. Gray songwriting resonates to that angsty and angry side of me that feels so jaded when it comes to love. His songs “Family Line” and “Jigsaw” also resonate with me because like him, I’ve also had to deal with my own share of family trauma and feeling kind of an outcast. His personal style is also dramatic and I love that. In a way, he’s inspired to really embrace that side of me that tends to be dramatic. Other songs of his that I became way too obsessed with were “Astronomy” and “Heather”. “Heather” also served as inspiration for a long poem I wrote in January. This might be cringe but the video for “Heather” even inspired a couple of poses for a couple of pictures. Also, IMHO, Conan Gray is the most beautiful person in the world to me. My kids hate it when I tell them, “you’re almost as beautiful as Conan Gray”. They tell me it’s wrong for some reason but it’s the truth. Speaking of my kids, my middle son kind of lowkey hates him. Maybe it’s because either “Heather” or “People Watching” has woken him up one too many times.Idk. My oldest son thinks that my obsession with Conan Gray is just creepy because they’re both the same age. However, I can’t control what makes my moody heart happy and gets obsessed with. Maybe one day, I’ll find this post cringe and be like wtf was I thinking but let it be a day far, far away into the future. Now let’s move on, to my next obsession, Joji.
Okay, so my oldest son introduced me to Joji sometime in early 2022 with the song “Glimpse of Us”. I remember telling him, “this song is too sad, it’s the kind of song that’s perfect for unaliving yourself ” (I know that might seem a bit extreme but that was my gut reaction to the song). Anyways, I didn’t start listening again to Joji until the winter of 2022 when the weather was cold and I was in a low mood. Something about his voice and his songwriting really struck a chord with the angst and sadness I was feeling at the time. Then, I had a major depression episode in January of this year and Joji became the soundtrack to that depression. I remember wearing my beanie every single day because I was too lazy to style my bangs and listening to “Die for You” on repeat . Joji’s music really got me through that episode and in this weird way gave me hope. Of course, I made the choice to go back to therapy during that episode. When I listen to “Glimpse of Us” and “Die for You” I think back to the earlier versions of myself I’m still trying to find compassion for and make peace with. I know that might sound weird but to me it makes sense. I also love the song, “Sanctuary” so much so, it’s been an inspiration for a few of my most recent poems. Joji’s style is also kind of dramatic which I really love.
Below is my AAPI Appreciation Playlist, I hope y’all enjoy it.
Here is the link to my AAPI playlist on Spotify:
Here is the link to my AAPI playlist on YouTube:
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
Old insecurities come to visit me again,
they shake up my newly acquired confidence
they tell me I’m not smart enough and I’ll never be truly loved
They tell me the only thing I have going for me is how sexy I can be
Otherwise I’m a waste of a person because of my bpd
And I try to shut it all down and not once again drown
Because I have made so much progress and have come so far
Only to once again fight an anxiety and depression war
but it’s daunting and exhausting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again, trying to calm down my brain
from negative and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self-love
I wrote this in May of 2022.
Overturning my right to choose feels like a slap to my face
it is my american dream of liberty turned into a nightmare
of reproductive imprisonment
because of my 3 unplanned pregnancies, because of my 4 IUDs
birth control pills and a patch
because I am a woman scared for my niece, for my future granddaughters
scared for the generations of women who come after me
and I sit here at a complete loss for words and understanding
at a loss for how this could happen
a fundamental right ripped from right before our eyes
while we were distracted with the modernity of society
a fundamental right ripped from us that will take us back to the 1950’s
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
People say I shouldn’t give up on love
and it’s really just my bad luck
But how do I explain
How love makes me insane
It’s not the men I pick
It’s really me, me, me
I’ll become the version they want me to be
thinking they’ll stay with me-
behave, swallow my words, hide my anger,
implode on myself in the privacy of my journal
but keep my mask of sweet princess on-
but this never last for long
something always happens
it’s just a matter of when
when will I get tired of hiding who I am
and start being erratic and crazy
When will they get tired of my bullshit
and decided to leave
and almost always, this ends up
as an emotional catastrophe for me
so I’ve come up with a solution
I’m going to make my newfound solitude
a haven, a sanctuary to fall into
give myself as much time as I need
to enjoy the gift on my own company
understanding that this isn’t an ending
but rather a brand new beginning for me
to write and edit my own unconventional love story
