Poesia: La Mujer de Hoy

Escribí este poema en Octubre del 2002 acerca del padre de mi hijo mayor. Tenía bastante sentimientos encontrados pero mas que todo tenía rabia.

La Reina Maria Felix

Yo no soy aquella niña ingenua
Que tu conocistes
La que dejaba todo por ti
La que creía en el amor
Que tu le prometías
La que te amaba
Sin razón, sin condiciones
Sin enfrentar realidades
Esa soñadora quedo atras
Y esta mujer que ves
Es una mujer desilusionada, realista,
Y pessimista
No cree en nadie que le promete amor
Y se ha vuelto fría
Todo esto gracias
A tu desgraciada ausencia

Flash Fiction: Passage of Regret

She came in before him into the same house she was at a year ago. She wonders to herself why she‘s there at all. She knows the minute she steps into the room; it will be like welcoming back a ghost into her life. She feels like she has no choice. He offers her a drink, and she gladly takes many, hoping that this will numb the outcome her mindless and impulsive actions have taken her to. She wants to say “no” and that she has a boyfriend she wants to be faithful to but knows that now it’s too late. She stops him for a minute after he takes off her shirt and unhooks her bra. She tells him she needs to use the bathroom, and in the bathroom, she writes this. A night she would like to forget.

Poetry: Newfound Emptiness

I wrote this in November 2002 after a seeing my one of my exes. Chronic feelings of emptiness are one of the symptoms of BPD and in the past I’ve tried to escape it with alcohol or sex. I tried sex this time and it didn’t work.

You DO!

She wants to enjoy herself
as his once familiar hands and lips
explore her body
But she can’t

He kisses her breasts
and she feels nothing

His hands touch those special
turn -on places in her body
And her body remains cold and numb

Then she realizes this meaningless act
of intimacy she uses to satisfy
her body’s urges
is no longer enough

She now needs something more,
she is frightened but the newfound emptiness
Of it all
She realizes she need love

Poesía : Pequeñas Riquezas

Escribí este poema en Noviembre del 2002. Fue inspirado por muchas experiencias que había tenido en ser siempre “la chica divertida del momento” para los hombres y nunca la chica con la cual quieren compartir su vida.

siempre

Ellos quedan acostados en la cama
El la mira, ella tan dormida, tan quieta
Y el piensa en muchas cosas
Aquel acuerdo que hicieron
Cuando todo esto empezó
Las condiciones que el le pidio a ella
Que ella nunca podría enamorarse de el
Y lo único que ellos podrían tener
sería un juego de sexo y nada mas
Tan simple que todo esto empezó
Pero el nunca contó con enamorarse
de esta niña-ingenua, inconveniente,
e inocente de la vida
No contaba con extranar a esta niña
Caprichosa pero con una dulzura tierna
Y por fin
Nunca se imaginaba con este dia
que ahora no siente poder vivir sin ella
y sus pequeñas riquezas

Reflection: Scared of Love

I wrote this in August of 2002 reflecting on Andrew and Lucas. I thought that they were 2 of the greatest loves of my life. I obviously don’t feel that way anymore. I understand now that due to the circumstances out of my control, there was no way I could have had long term relationships with them.

It always be like that

I’m scared of love. Maybe I jeopardize and push away any opportunity of love knocking on my door. Or maybe it is truly bad luck. I don’t know anymore. I feel so numb and used at the same time. This love shit seems so pointless. I feel like I lost out on the greatest love of my life either 4 years ago or 2 months ago, perhaps. Maybe I shouldn’t have worried so much about the others and fought for the love I felt for Andrew and Lucas but I had no clue as to how they felt about me. To Andrew, I felt like a passing fad but damn I would’ve done anything for him. For Lucas, I still believe that I was an escape for him whom I also had a great friendship with. I shared everything I ever was with him. I shared my feelings, my thoughts, I even gave him my most vulnerable aspect, my heart. These two men will always and forever be in my heart, a place many had tried to reach but only two have succeeded.

Poetry: Lucas’Song

I wrote this in December of 2002 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas. I was pretty obsessed with him. I have this saying, “just because someone stops loving you doesn’t mean you automatically stop loving them.” Having BPD and being me means that when I get obsessed with someone, that “love” I feel doesn’t go away easily. It sucks but it is what it is.

heartbreak is hard to get over

I heard your song tonight
And my mind surrendered
To the memory of your baby face
and that achingly unique voice
It made me realize
How much I still miss you
and love you
It make me think
How lucky I had been
to have had you in my life
if even for a short whil
e

Poetry: Drunk

After breaking up with Ron while dealing with the whole Lucas drama, I was very impulsive and emotional. I wanted to escape from what I was feeling so I thought it would be a great idea to meet a new dude at a bar and hook up with him. His name was Damon and it would end up being yet another unstable relationship. This poem was written in June of 2002 right after meeting Damon.

truth

Got drunk last night
and somehow ended up
Naked and vulnerable
in some guy’s bed
We know what happened next
I gave in to mine and his desires
Not sure why I did
But everything felt so damn good
I just couldn’t stop
Even though I knew that
that it was so wrong

Poetry: Do I Know?

I wrote this poem in June of 2002 and almost 20 years later, I still have the same questions. Lol. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll ever know what romantic love and that’s okay. My life is filled with all kinds of different love that I’m not focused on finding romantic love or really care to.

if only

I want to write about love
but do I really know what it is
Is it a certain look?
Or a certain action?
Is it caring for someone’s happiness
more than your own?
Or is it being with the one
that makes you crazy
and your heart race
with the sound of their voice?
What is love?

Poetry: Silence

I wrote this about my ex boyfriend Ron, the one I cheated on with Lucas. I felt so much guilt and shame about the whole romantic fiasco. I should have broken up with Ron BUT this was a really confusing time and I was probably scared to be alone once again. I knew that the fling with Lucas would end eventually and that Ron wasn’t go anywhere…and honestly that’s probably the worst reason to stay with someone.

If I had to be honest with myself

As I lie next to him
So much is left unsaid
So much I want to tell him
But the words cannot
Escape from my mouth
I want to tell him the truth
Instead of live in this big web of lies
I have mistakenly driven myself into
I want to tell him
I was with another but I do love him
But I can’t say anything
I don’t want to hurt him
Instead I lie next to him
in this defying silence

When nothing is said
and he thinks I only love him

Poetry: Mixed Feelings

I wrote this in 2002 about my coworker Lucas. This is a good example of the black and white thinking that happens with me when I’m in a relationship.

It’s always a war, I’m never the same after

You’re so close to me
And impossible to reach
You’re the one I want to be with
And the one I want to run away from
You’re my best dream
And worst nightmare
You’re my reason for my happiness
And the epitome of my frustrations
You give me a reason to live
And a reason to leave this life
You’re the first on my list
And I’m the last on yours

Poesía: Cobardía

 Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca de Lucas. Estaba bien amarga y llena de amargura porque él nunca quiso dejar a su esposa. Mis pensamientos eran irracional e ilógico. Esto pasa cuando uno tiene trastorno límite de la personalidad.

pero el me olvido como los otros

El romance paro
gracias a tu cobardía
Nunca quisistes pelear
Por aquel amor que me decias
Que te hacía querer vivir la vida
Y yo me quedo aquí
Sola y desilusionada
Y tu
Con el viejo hábito
Que se llama “tu esposa”

Poetry: January 1,2002

I wrote this 20 years ago reflecting on how rough 2001 was for me. I mean there was my whole Jake Gyllenhaal episode and of course “the great breakup of 2001” that inspired dozens and dozens of poems. 2002 wouldn’t be any better but I survived it. Whatever doesn’t kill me makes for good blog content later. Lol. As I reflect now on 2022 and any expectations I have. I honestly don’t have any. I mean 2021 was rough in it’s own right, there was my BPD diagnosis and of course “the great breakup of 2021” BUT it was also a year of tremendous growth and progress for me. And that’s all I hope to have in 2022, continued growth-as a mother, friend, writer, and coworker. As always, I strive to become a better person than I was yesterday.

always moving forward

Another new year
Supposedly filled with promise and hope
As any new anything
Whether it be a new relationship
New job or even a new hero
But will this year really live up to all it’s hype?
And if so, it would be the first wonderful year
with more happiness than sorrows
Or will this new year be another year
Wasted on dead end frustrations
Filled with more sadness
than one can bear
Only as the days and weeks
And eventually months go on will we be able to know
I hope for my sake
That at least will be somewhere in the middle

A Decade of Blogging

sums up my decade

So today marks my 10 anniversary since starting this blog. I’ll admit that until the summer of this year I didn’t take this blog as seriously as maybe I should have. I started this blog in December of 2011 after my house was broken into and we were robbed. It was traumatizing to me and my family and I needed a way to process it so I started blogging. Here is that blogpost:

Hola/Hello

Since starting this blog, there have been a lot of life changes. I’ve blog about those life changes few times when just writing it down doesn’t do the trick. The way that I have explained it to friends and family is that the blog is like screaming into the void of cyberspace. In October of 2019, I started posting my poetry and this was another level of intimacy for me because I don’t share my poetry with just anyone. I will share my poetry or writing with one of my close friends or sometimes at open mic at my local pub .Then I started a second job and I didn’t have the time needed to dedicate to this blog but I always kept writing. Then I got into a relationship that lasted until July of this year. While I’m not getting into how that relationship ended or why (that’s blog content for late next year-lol) it was one of the reasons I started blogging again. The demise of that relationship was unexpected and devastating for me so I turned to my first coping mechanism-writing. Shortly before my breakup in July, I started therapy and was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and that was a lot to process in itself. Being broken up while dealing with a new diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder felt like I had experienced 2 really horrible car wrecks within a week. I compare it to a car accident because that’s probably one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Except this time, it wasn’t my car that was totaled and unrepairable, it was me. I felt like I had lost part of my identity since I was no longer someone’s partner and I gained a new part of my identity in being diagnosed with BPD. I felt completely overwhelmed with no sense of direction; I honestly didn’t know what to do next. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry while Alexa played my sad girl playlist from Spotify. Here is that playlist:

Playlist: For the Brokenhearted: Sad Edition (the one where you cry)

And while I did do that some of the time; I understood I still needed to get up every day and show up for myself somehow. And showing up for myself meant writing. And so I wrote every day in my journal and in my numerous notebooks. I wrote letters at 3 AM that I would never send, journal entries full of immense sadness and rage, and tons and tons of poetry.

these are just a few of my journals and well Sylvia Plath is of course one of my favorite poets

A few days after my breakup, I decided to blog about my diagnosis to start to make sense of it and here’s that post:

A New Diagnosis: BPD

After writing that post and it got more than a few views and a couple of likes, it made me realize that there are other people like me. I also got the idea at that time that healing for me would look like me revisiting past traumatic situations through my poetry and reflections or writing a blog post. And this was chaotic in itself because I started posting poetry from all stages in my life. So around late October and early November, I started posting poetry for the most part chronologically from the early stages of my writing with the very first poem I wrote when I was 15 and here’s that poem:

Poetry: Another Mate

My writings and poetry are confessional, sometimes childish, and at times super emotional. It’s meant for people who have felt misunderstood in their anger and grief, it’s meant for people who feel everything at once and feel overwhelmed by it, it’s meant for people who have traumas they’re still not over, and it’s meant for people who have given their trust and vulnerability to the wrong people only to be broken over and over again by doing this.

so I kept writing

My future plan for this blog is to continue to post poetry, essays, playlists, and other writings. Without intending to, this blog has become a storytelling blog. And it’s a story about a woman who is far from perfect. It’s a story of woman who lies, who loves hard, who hates even harder, who loves sex, who has been abandoned by lovers and who has abandoned lovers, who’s crazy, and who feels immense sadness and rage when trauma hits. It’s a story of a woman who fucks up continuously but still manages to get up and try to become a better version of herself than she was yesterday. It’s also a story of a woman who has continued to triumph after trauma. Most importantly it’s a story of a woman who is done accommodating to people’s and society’s expectations of who she should be and at 40 has realized that being authentic and true to herself is the only and right way for her to be. I may have changed a lot within a decade but what will never change is my love for writing and my purpose to continue to share my story.

Here’s to 10 more years of writing about my vida loca