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What’s Your Bra Size?

picture of how it feels of when I’m asked “what’s your bra size?”

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

I hate it when men ask me, “what’s your bra size?”
it’s like my bust-line invites unwanted and sexist questions and comments
about my body
and it makes me want to throw up and write about them violently
because out of all of the questions in the world to ask ME,
a mother, a public health worker, a grocery store clerk, an immigrant,
a Peruvian, an American, a friend, a poet, a blogger, a woman,
a PERSON-
they choose to ask me an awkward question about my body-
I used to entertain them and tell them while laughing uncomfortably
holding in my disgust and anger for them
but now I either ignore them, call them out, or block them
my boobs or any part of my body are no longer up
for the objectification of others

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poster Girl for Failure

this is so true….makes lemons out of lemonade

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

I used to think I was the poster girl for failure
I’m a failure at love, I’m a failure at life, I’m a failure at everything
but all of these are thoughts of a past version of me
the version of me who saw herself as a victim
the version of me who took comfort in her misery
in my middle age I changed that narrative
I no longer see myself as a failure
I see myself as a person who makes mistakes
who’s deeply flawed, who has caused pain
it’s doesn’t make me a loser or a disaster
It makes me a human who’s trying her best to live her life
and sometimes that doesn’t always look pretty
I now see failure as stepping stone,a learning curve
to continue to grow, to continue to evolve
to become better and healthier than I’ve been before

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry: The Zeitgeist of COVID Times

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

me in March of 2020 when the Pandemic started

Toilet paper, hand sanitizer,
Masks, COVID tests

the judgy quarantined
Karens and Brads
or
the overwhelmed essential
workers

Solitary confinement
or
Endless work hours

Creative new hobbies
or
No time to think or sleep

Neverending restlessness
or
Neverending adrenaline rushes

Mental breakdowns for all
This was the Zeitgeist
of COVID times

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Racing Thoughts

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

What do I do with a mind that won’t quit?
It keeps me on this never ending guilt trip
These racing thoughts keep me up at night
And tell me write, write, write
And I want it all to stop the overflowing inspiration
from my muse cup
But this is who I am
and forever will be
a bipolar and BPD me
trying hard to deal with existing

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Uncomfortable

Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.

in order to grow, we must lose parts of ourselves that hold us back from reaching our potential

saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
even as I lost her in parts
first came the extra pounds and inches I ran off from the curvy girl who used food as comfort
and for a while a stranger stared at me from the mirror as I wondered where my cleavage went
or how my waistline got so small
then came the spectator and the passenger I lost as I gained confidence and power in sharing my truth, in sharing my art and I became the main character and the driver of my own life
finally I lost the princess who held onto others for safety, who relied on others for acceptance and love-she left on a windy October day when she conquered a phobia that haunted her for 15 years
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
but she couldn’t stay around if I wanted to grow, to evolve, to become the mother my children
always deserved, to become the woman I always wanted to be

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: soft again

I wrote this poem in March of 2022

me around the time I wrote this poem…

I want to be soft again and fall in love
without thinking
that feels like a special kind of freedom
to share the burdens with someone
to share the laughter with someone
to share a unique kind of love with someone
but my heart is locked under a fortress
and I refuse to let anyone in
because in all honesty I don’t think
I could stand the pain again
when another lover leave suddenly
and I’m left again with the shards of my heart
to put them back together and carry on

Posted on by pattytacuri · 7 Comments

Poetry: The Writer’s Fight

I wrote this poem in February 2022.

me around the time I wrote this poem

To write is to fight
words that cuts like swords
How do I stop this torture?
of suppressing a petty light

Pen stabs paper with might
about past regrets and lost love wars
and memories best left ignored
of a dreadful and chaotic life

To write is to fight
Demons I want to hide from
But I can’t help but succumb
to my constant inner fight

Pen stabs paper with might
and I try to find closure
about past lovers
I write from love and spite

To write is to fight
Do I really need to say that?
Yes,it’s my trauma to unpack
and my words take flight

Posted on by pattytacuri · 4 Comments

Poetry: The Gift of Solitude

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

me in February of 2022

My solitude comforts me and completes me
this much tranquility is a gift
I thought being alone meant wearing a misery crown
Instead I found serenity and calm
I found a love I thought was impossible
self compassion and self love fill the void within
to care only for myself is a blessing
And I need to stay like this for a while
anything else feels too draining
being alone feels like the ultimate prize
in this beautiful thing called life

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Poetry: Last Day of 40

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

me on the last day of 40

Last day of 40 and it feels like the longest year of my life
My 4th decade started with the miracle of what I thought was true love
But nope-it was another story of disillusionment and loss
growth and progress became the theme in my 40th year
I beat a 15 year driving phobia and made art from heartbreak and trauma
and I’m no longer scared to live my truth out loud
with my family, friends, and my online community
I also learned I was enough and complete by myself
and never needed someone to validate my existence
And as year 40 closes,I’m amazed by my creativity and resilience
and how time and time again I turn my trauma and grief
into the ultimate comeback story
For year 41,I hope to continue to thrive with calm and tranquility
and enjoy the magic I found within

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Poetry: My Three Kings

me and my 3 kings

Who are your favorite people to be around?

I met my first king at 17
when the nurse placed an alien like being in my arms
She was like “feed him”and I was like “how do I do that?”
What should I do with him?
Eventually I figured it out

I met my first king at 24
as a birthday present, just like me
he had to make a dramatic entrance
but it was love at first sight
No one could take him from my arms
I knew what to do

I met my third king at 30
He was a dream delivered
After a dream lost the previous year
He was planned, he was awaited, he was loved
He was welcome by everyone
with him, I felt a completion of love

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Existing

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in

Posted on by pattytacuri · 4 Comments

Poetry: Scenes of Dissociation

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

share your story

I fantasize about death after my boyfriend’s rejection
I’m so out of touch with reality, a car stops inches away from me
the driver honks at me and cusses me out
I am 15

I want to throw myself of the bridge on the way
to confirm I’m my parent’s worst failure
but a kick inside me saves me
I am 17

I want my baby to stop crying, my head is starting to spin
with psychosis and I hold him a little too tight
until my husband takes him from away me
I am 30

I’m crying while spewing nonsense
while my lover looks at me in horror and disgust
I know it’s over
I am 40