overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport fast castellano coming from everyone with cumbia in the background machu picchu advertisements everywhere my mind is trying to process everything in real time I’m here, I’m here, I’m here the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9 and didn’t fully appreciate it happy and completely elated euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones to my skin I never thought I’d see it again poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here my beloved Perú the land I left without consent the land I was taught to menospreciar I’m here, I’m here, I’m here and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you mi tierra-once again
petrified, frustrated, and stagnated drowning in a sea of disillusionment thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear “come with me and your pain will disintegrate” and the temptation to follow him is great I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane world
Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame even if logically I know it’s not my fault and I was just standing up for myself I’m still recovering from being a nice girl I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you when toxicity was served on a platter of love I’m still recovering from compromising my values and my true self for the comfort of others so they’d stay I’m still recovering from the most toxic story I ever told myself when it came to measuring my worth by how others judged and perceived me
many took bets on how long they’d last between the age gap, the difference in cultures they didn’t stand a chance yet, they kind of made it work for more than a decade yet, they still raised three fine young men for almost 20 years and while their incompatibility caught up to them and they had to end their love story they rebuilt it on the foundation of the love they once shared and in the best interest of their children and evolved into a healthy story of friendship where any resentment and anger has been buried and there are no hard feelings over past grievances where they support one another and are finally the parents their children always deserved
love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame slowly I fade away until I’m nothing I don’t recognize who I am Friends tell me I’ve changed I tell them they’re crazy messages appear in dreams I’m living a fake life who am i? who am i? who am i?
it was another boring night at work I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking and my racing thoughts a 90s dance song comes on the speaker and just when I’m about to sing I heard footsteps behind me I turned around and there he was- my favorite customer 5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips and a body built by some Greek God he was looking at pots and pans I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware and sneaked glances and admired him from afar hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated and my imagination took flight as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind and just as I’m imagined our first kiss he approached me, -OH NO! of course he asked for a specific type of pan we didn’t have I told him no and apologized in my best customer service voice and he told me “no worries” as his voice cracked and walked away quickly and I wondered, am I imagining things, or is he also attracted to me?
In bridging the gaps of my story that have remained unresolved every story, every poem leads to pieces of healing and closure I’ve been desperately search for since I can remember Whatever my child self , my teenage self couldn’t voice back then My middle age self brings to the surface and while at times it’s difficult and terrifying it’s needed in the process of healing and evolving
take me on a tour of your utopia the one you always talk about the one where mental illness doesn’t exist and we all go to sleep without the need of meds and sleepytime tea the one where everyone is respected and being different is celebrated and not used as fodder for insults or war
Reddit wants to make sure I’m real and not a spam bot and even I ask myself this today as I feel completely numb as I feel like my emotions are turned off And I’m a new kind of mellow the kind of mellow that’s a zombie functioning and existing with a stoic demeanor feeling completely detached from who I truly am over medicated and toned down to barely subtle static and white noise Is this what it’s like to be normal?
blankness spills across her pretty face no distinction between her and the marble her hands and feet are still watches herself say the right words and make the appropriate gestures nothing makes sense in this moment rage burns inside of her she smiles and nods politely as they talk about the weather
the downpour from this morning made me uber emotional driving through a flood, trying to not lose control of my car and with God by my side and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio I made it to work the downpour didn’t stop and my coworker mentioned it was an upside world when the morning looks like evening and the dreadful weather triggered the on switch to my depression and out pours the thoughts about grief and death the downpour of my emotions started and nothing could stop it
I wrote this poem earlier this month for a future version of myself. I wanted to end 2024 with a hopeful and romantic note.
lighting hits me and I’m in love all over again this time I take my vows seriously this time I believe in the whole “til death do us part” bit this time it’s far from perfect and ideal but for once in my life we’re enough for each other and there are no seconds thoughts that this is true love
Universe, send me a silver lining send me a sign, send me a message things will be alright lately everything feels so awry lately May feels like the longest month of my life lately everything feels like chaos and darkness I can’t seem to get rid off And lately I’m afraid I’m about to lose my mind
Happy 13 years of blogging to ME! This blog is now as old as my youngest child. And just like him, it’s had some growing pains as well. So, just to recap, here’s how it started:
In year 12, I kept the same format and kept telling my story through poetry and so far it’s still working. Year 12 has been somewhat tricky and challenging given some extenuating personal circumstances so I didn’t experiment with the blog the way I had wanted to. However, I will say that I am glad I’m still here telling my story my way. At times when things have looked bleaked for me and I just about wanted to throw in the towel and kind of give up, creating content for this blog has kept me grounded and kept me going through my darkest of days . I also did add a couple of more playlists this year which captures my life the last couple of years:
I’m so very thankful for my followers and anyone who reads my little blog. It means the world to me that a lot of you are all still here following my chaotic storytelling with one day posting about wanting to be a “yung gravy’s groupie” and then a few days later posting about “contemplating life at the convent”. I feel so loved by an online community who finds me entertaining and accepts me for the often chaotic mess that I can be. I’m very grateful for y’all and so humbled by your support. If I wasn’t so medicated, I’d cry tears of gratitude.
Here’s one of my most favorite poems I wrote this year:
With all that being said, I’m not sure what the future looks like for the blog. I know that in 2025, I wanted to rebrand and rename it because I feel like I’ve outgrown the whole “I have BPD, and that’s the most interesting thing about me” storyline. I was going to do it this year, but well, life happened, and I just didn’t have time. With all that being said, I am going to give y’all a peek into what 2024 looked like for me with the 12 days of Patty: Poetry Edition starting on the 20th of this month. Here’s hoping that I continue with this little passion project of mine that’s saved me more times than I can count from falling into the abyss. Here’s manifesting a year of growth and love for the blog, for me, and for anyone who’s reading this post. Also, if y’all have any suggestions for a new name for the blog, let me know. And as always, I am open to collaborations with any content creators out there who feel like my blog would be a good fit for them. Speaking of collaborations, I was most fortunate to be interviewed by my friend J.R Barner for his newsletter and here’s a link to his newsletter for y’all to sign up for it:https://www.jrbarner.com/
and read his newsletter that I highly recommend. So to end this blog post, I’ll leave you with a link to one of my more hopeful poems about why I continue to tell my story.
my family is quiet about their sorrows they put up a mask of strength and resilience its not that they hide their tragedies they talk about it openly but heal with energy from the trees, with their busy and monotonous routines on their farm with the understanding that terrible things happen in their lives and finding resilience in the most extenuating of tragedies in order to move forward
Life on the BPD 