Poetry: Tell ME

Aqui esta en enlace para la version en Espanol:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/22/poesia-dime/

Why did you break our romantic ties?
What did she have to make you leave me suddenly?
Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story,
of finding myself the woman used and scorned?
I’m fucking exhausted with rage
always making the same mistake over and over again
giving all of my myself to another confused man
who leaves me when I’m no longer easy

You’re the best Taylor!

Thanks to Taylor Swift, I have these cringy videos to look back on and laugh about:

I remember being super hyped up and angry recording this video…lol
Thanks Taylor for the inspiration …hahaha

Happy 11 Years of Blogging

The 10th year of blogging brought a lot of progress and growth in my life. As I write this, I’m excited to say that I’m in a really good place in my life. I’m proud that I’ve been consistent in posting content on almost a daily basis and have continued to challenge myself as a writer and content creator. When I have asked people what they think about the blog, they tell me “it’s honest” and “you really don’t hold back”. Some people don’t believe that everything I share is the truth because it’s so crazy. Well, sometimes my life does feel stranger than fiction. But, at least I’m never bored, right? One thing I started to do this year is translate all of my poetry whether the original poem was in Spanish or English. One of my favorite poems I translated is this one:

Happy Halloween! What’s scarier than a regular bitch?

I’ve also revised a lot of my old poems. This year, I’ve also grown a lot as a writer. In a few months, I can finally say I’m a published author. I will share the links to those books as they come out.

I can also say that I’m a much different person than the person who wrote this blog post this time last year:

A Decade of Blogging

I’ve let go a lot of the anger, shame, and guilt I felt from my trauma. It was a combination of therapy, a new level of introspection, and having a new appreciation for my life. I think last year when I restarted this blog, I was alternating between a state of anger, grief, and mania. I wanted to be as honest as I could be and I gave no fucks about the opinions of others. Also, as I was revisiting some of my older poems, it brought up trauma and well the anger came out in full force . I was also trying to find who I was beneath all of these years of unprocessed trauma. Add all this to the fact that I changed to hormonal birth control that made me even more angry and it was like a hurricane of emotions I tried to surf but sometimes couldn’t control.

I’m still going to continue telling my story but I’m skipping to December of 2021. There was a lot of poetry and stories I wrote from 2018 to November of 2021 and some of it I have shared on this blog already. The time frame I’m skipping is also the period of time when my BPD was at its worst and to put it mildly, I was an emotional train wreck. Sharing that version of me doesn’t feel right to me at this time. Also, I think that from December of 2021 to now is when my real recovery from BPD started and I wrote poetry on an almost daily basis.It’s going to be a challenge deciding which poems are going to end up on this blog. As I go through this recovery journey from my BPD, I’m understanding that I can still process and honor my trauma without having to share it on this blog or social media.

The direction of the blog is also going to move towards collaborations with other content creators, writers, and guest bloggers. So if you have a story, opinion piece, an essay, or poem you want to share with the world, feel free to contact me. I’m open to most topics. Also, you can use a pseudonym or be completely anonymous. I invite you to share your passion or anger or whatever message you want to send out there to the world through my blog! The cringier and more emotional, the better. Lol. Below is link to my contact info:

Contact Info

Lastly, thank you to all of my followers and everyone who reads, takes the time to read, and like my brand of crazy. I’m humbled every time I get a comment or a like on one of my posts. The fact that this blog has grown exponentially from 17 followers in July of 2021. This means I’m doing something right. Thank you for allowing me to have this platform to be my most vulnerable, craziest, saltiest, and authentic self.

Poetry: The Ultimate Queen

I wrote this in December of 2021.

And those flames burn 🔥 😍

At 40, I feel like the ultimate Queen
after losing layers and layers of my princess skin
The broken princess I had to beat
to finally feel enough and complete
Friends and men full of duplicity
Have no place in my world of authenticity
I no longer wear my crown of guilt and shame
It caused me too much emotional pain
Instead I wear a crown of confidence and power
being true to myself is my superpower
Fuck anyone who thinks I’m too much or not enough
You assholes were never deserving of my love
I am the ultimate Queen
and I’m finally making myself seen

Poetry: Forgotten Anniversary

I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. I guess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.

December 9, 2010

He forgot our 8 year anniversary
I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced.
There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears
Over something that would end soon.
There was no use in feeling devastated over
Something that never should have happened.
Vows that should never have been taken.
Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning.
Empty words that were never believed in.
8 years of marriage; an institution we thought
would bind us for eternal life.
So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect
wouldn’t break us apart.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary

Just like he forgot all of his promises to
“Try harder” or “to change”
So I wouldn’t leave.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary.
And it’s fine.
You don’t celebrate something
That is already dead.

Poetry: My Book of Love and Lust

Para la version en Espanol, haga clic en este enlace:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/10/poesia-yo-pense/

I thought nothing could ruin our love

now everything we once were is lost

because once again I was wrong, wrong, wrong

I wasn’t aware of your secret lust filled missions

you’re another confused boy

and to you I was another toy

You were another tourist

in my book of love and lust

Poesia: Ganando La Guerra

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=149

No puedo vivir sin ti
pero tengo que aprender a olvidarte
Eres parte de mi pasado
Aunque todavía deseo que tu amor fuera mío
Sin ti estare bien
Porque no importa lo debil que me siento
Tengo que parar de pensar en ti
Con estas pocas palabras
A lo mejor ganaré la guerra
De no amarte mas

Poetry: Writer Identidad

I wrote this in 2008 in my creative writing class. I actually hated that class because I didn’t fit in. It’s a long story for a blog post at a later time.

 

I don’t want to be
a style ,a genre
a multicultural read
with scattered Spanish
in my text
that is interpreted
as Chica or Latina lit
-NO!-
I refuse to be a mere category
Or a trend or a fad
When there is a much bigger message
Than the stereotypes
people want to imply

 

Poetry: The Elephant

I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression.

me around the time I wrote this poem.

The sun is shining 

Everything is green and bright

And yet winter feels eternal 

In my heart

The blackness that is my sadness

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 desperate not to awake

Writing, exercise, friends, tv-

Everything to keep it calm

But no matter what

The elephant always seems 

   To wake up

Poesia: El Amor y El Odio

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=4784

Fue el destino cruel
hacerte cruzar la línea
Entre amor y odio
Fuistes una desperdicia de tiempo
Nunca sabras
lo bueno que pudimos ser
tu amor era solo una pantalla de humo
Hasta pensaba que teníamos
Para siempre
Quería creer que tu eras un amor verdadero
pero tu eras otro “lo que sea”
Y yo fui otra falda
No hay nada más que decir
es tiempo de olvidar todo lo que fuimos
o pudimos ser

Poetry: Superficial

I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression.

I want to write about love

But instead find myself 

Writing about depression and loss

Everything feels so vague and fake

I don’t know what or who’s 

Real anymore

Is it existential dread 

Or a midlife crises 

Or a mixture of both?

Living in a world rampant

 With comparisons 

   With the click of a button

Tears at my soul

Thanks to the ridiculous 

And never ending standards 

Modern society thrusts upon us.

It’s all a constant competition 

About who has the best life

Have we all become society’s 

Attention whores?

Poetry: Extinction

I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.

me in 2017 around the time I wrote this poem

Simple decency is becoming extinct
Manners and politeness is rare
rudeness and sarcasm is the norm
Being kind feels outdated
in this narcissistic society
filled with superfluous and superficial people
Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes
everywhere
There is no escape from this epidemic
of the nothingness
that tries to appear profound
It is a society that blames the victim
“ but what was she wearing?”
or
“He was hanging out with the wrong kids”
It is a society that’s prejudiced against
anyone different
“Go back to where you came from”
“You’ll never belong here”
“People will always remember
how you made them feel”,
Maya Angelou said
Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone
Is how this world makes me feel
I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself
to this world full of shallow feelings
I miss the kind and real people
in this world
It’s rare to find them now
They are almost extinct

Poetry: Silence

I wrote this 2013 about my husband.

silence kills

Silence, awkward silence is what was left after everything they needed to say was said

 It was the same fight over and over again.

Old wounds were brought to the surface and reopened. 

She blamed him for derailing her ambitions

 and he blamed her for derailing the productive and selfish life he once led. 

They both couldn’t see that they were both at fault

 for not continuing to push each other to flourish

 but instead they fell into a complacent spell 

And a pattern of a comfortable 

and the fruitless routine of suburban life.

 And the years went on and they had nothing to show for it 

except debt and wrinkles they both inflicted upon themselves. 

And the years went on and all that was left 

was regret for her for the things that she didn’t get to experien

Poetry: Joe Goldberg

I wrote this poem in January of this year for a DBT exercise about being creative.

Me and Joe

My love for Joe Goldberg is for real

even if he is a psycho serial killer

he might kill me but won’t abandon me

or break up with me

My love for Joe Goldberg is  healthy and lovely

It brings a calm and serenity like no other 

My love for Joe Goldberg makes me understand

Myself better

I’m like him,  in love with love

My love for Joe Goldberg is the only one I want 

for now

I’d rather deal with a fictional crazy Joe

rather than a real life asshole