I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
the bomb of my insanity explodes and I try my best
to do damage control
tell my paranoid inner child not everyone’s out to get me
but it’s too late and I fall once again under the spell of depression
I try every single coping mechanism and it’s futile
I just need to sit and acknowledge my inner critic
and the dark and intrusive thoughts that come up
Understand and accept that shit is temporary
there will be better times ahead
for now it’s just annoying
I try my best to try to trust the divine time of the universe
but on days like today I just want to disappear
under the covers of my bed
it’s not that I’m depressed I just need time
to myself and not be surrounded by everyone’s
bullshit
about capitalism, society’s ills, and how we all need to heal-
it all feels so repetitive like we’re all barely treading water
waking up with existential dread wondering
which catastrophe or tragedy comes next
it’s hard for someone as sensitive as me to keep functioning
to keep living under stress and duress of life
and the world’s toxicity
so on days like today I just want to disappear
under the covers of my bed
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
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 wrote this poem in August of 2024.
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
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
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
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
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 wrote this poem in July of 2024.
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
I wrote this poem in July of 2024
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
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
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
I wrote this in September of 2023.
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 wrote this poem in July of 2024.
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
Life on the BPD 