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 guyβs 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 couldnβt stop Even though I knew that that it was so wrong
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 someoneβs 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?
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
Youβre so close to me And impossible to reach Youβre the one I want to be with And the one I want to run away from Youβre my best dream And worst nightmare Youβre 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 Youβre the first on my list And Iβm the last on yours
I wrote this in 2002 about Lucas after he dropped me off at home. I really thought we had this special and unique connection at the time even though the situation was so fucked up.
maybe
He drops her off and waits for her to inside opens the glove compartment and picks up the note she leaves for him He feels ecstatic and miserable at the same time by her simple way with words Itβs not so much the content Itβs the meaning behind it He wants to stop and love her but he canβt He realizes she leaves that note as a reminder that she will always love him
I wrote this in 2002 when I was really depressed. I probably should have gone to therapy but instead I wrote poetry.
sometimes this feels true
My emotional pain is killing me at a steady pace with no means of stopping Or even slowing down I donβt know how to feel good about myself anymore I forgot what itβs like to laugh or smile Whatβs left of my pride is gone.
I wrote this in 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. It kind of sucks that this situation happened BUT at least I got some salty poetry out of it. Lol.
triggered
Hey Mr.Donor man How does it feel to have your son Learn you never wanted to come That you talked big shit and never meant any of it That no matter how hard I tried for him you never wanted to be a daddy to him That you were so fucking lame You couldnβt even give him your last name That to you, his mom was just good fun That youβre a fucking coward you never dared to be his father Donβt worry though Heβll always have my love And without you, heβll be just fine One day Iβll meet a man who is kind Who will love him and I and will want us in his life Whoβll be glad to take the place of The man who couldnβt give us love Who will come to his defense when things get tense Who will stick around And wonβt bring him down Who will finally be The dad you never wanted to be
I wrote this poem about my oldest son’s bio dad in February of 2002. A lot of residual resentment I had towards him was because he wouldn’t step up. My empathy button for him was really broken for him and in this case maybe it needed to be.
it be like that sometimes
Three years too late Youβve decided to embrace your fate Youβve decided to recognize your mistake And fill my ears with apologies For not accepting mine and his existence
So now you feel like playing dad And expect me to forgive and forget about the misery you left us in The years of being a fucking deadbeat to him Please do what you do best Walk away and put this situation to rest For he doesnβt need A false wannabe daddy Who will cause him harm in the long run
I wrote this about my first baby daddy in February of 2002 when he contacted me. At the time that we talked, he told me that he wish I would have told him earlier about pregnancy because he would have married me instead of his wife. It honestly made me mad so I sat down and wrote this poem.
So accurate
You left her without a warning Couldnβt bring yourself to say goodbye Now youβve come back Wanting to stake a claim On what was once yours Thinking she will gladly accept you in a welcoming embrace Sorry to tell you But she stopped waiting for your return a few years ago You taught her not to need you, not to miss you She moved on and left you in her mind as a bittersweet memory And thatβs how she now sees you
I wrote this in 2002 fantasizing about the love and life I wanted. Poor 21 year old me, she was so damn naΓ―ve.
it’s a lesson in learning my worth
Iβm looking forward to spending the rest of my life wrapped up in your arms Iβm looking forward to newlywed bliss Having a little one with your gorgeous smile And in old age, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch Iβm looking forward to petty arguments, responsibility, and bills What Iβm looking forward to the most is to being your wife
I wrote this in February 2002 about my first baby daddy. He had started to be in contact with when he got the child support order. I obviously had a lot of residual resentment and trauma and blamed him for losing part of adolescence.
monsters that leave you with trauma
She was the girl you left behind with nothing but a baby and a desperate hope to keep her alive
She was innocent, naive, and untouched until the night she fell into your sexy scent, your empowering embrace, and a world full of promises She trusted, believed, and dreamed
Thanks to your unexpected departure that naive girl you left behind blossomed into a woman of depth, strength and wisdom beyond her 21 years She will lust but she canβt ever love She wants to trust but finds herself full of doubt She wishes to fill herself with guilt and morals but has learned to have no scruples
So donβt try to come back and expect her to believe in your crocodile tears or your most insincere apologies that girl you left behind Grew up into a woman at a surreal speed thanks to you
I wrote this in 2002. It was one of those moments when I was having one of those moments where my self esteem was high and I was like fuck love, I’m awesome by myself.
me in 2002 when I wrote this poem
She is not that woman who needs a man She alone fulfills her dreams Without him, her face still beamsme
She is not that beauty chick Who has all the men at her feet Sheβs got something else When the world of beauty fails
She is not that pushover girl Submissive with the golden curls Sheβs got her own mind Love is not worth her time
She is not that Ms.Prom Queen Who wants an engagement ring A husband she could care less about Sheβd rather not take that life route
I wrote this in early January 2002 about some random dude I was talking to online. I never met the dude that inspired this poem.
sometimes I’m both
So you want to meet soon? I wonder why You say because I sound Sexy and great But should I take another chance And end up with another horrible waste of a man who will regard me as just another good fuck Or maybe Iβm being too cynical And you for once will be Mr.Right What I know is that I couldnβt stand again being a fad
I wrote this in January of 2002 after I met my married coworker Lucas to who I became attracted to . I think I had just known him for a week but right away I became infatuated with him.
sometimes you can’t help who you’re attracted to
What am I doing? Longing and yearning For something that so obviously not meant to be What am I doing? Hoping and wishing that youβll leave her soon so youβll be my love king What am I doing? Allowing to lose myself Driving me to confess That thereβs something I feel Maybe this time itβs for real
I’m not sure which ex I wrote this about but this is the general feeling I have when a relationship is going well. My anxiety goes up and I catastrophized. This was written in 2000.
I am scared That my heart will tear I am worried One day youβll be sorry Iβm so frightened Itβs just a matter of when I am just tired After so many liars My mind is stuck Thinking you just want to fuck I am careful Trying to not end up a fool
So today marks my 10 anniversary since starting this blog. Iβll admit that until the summer of this year I didnβt 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:
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 doesnβt 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 donβt 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 didnβt 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 Iβm not getting into how that relationship ended or why (thatβs 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 thatβs probably one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Except this time, it wasnβt 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 someoneβs 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 didnβt 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:
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 hereβs that post:
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 hereβs that poem:
My writings and poetry are confessional, sometimes childish, and at times super emotional. Itβs 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 theyβre 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 itβs a story about a woman who is far from perfect. Itβs 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, whoβs crazy, and who feels immense sadness and rage when trauma hits. Itβs 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. Itβs also a story of a woman who has continued to triumph after trauma. Most importantly itβs a story of a woman who is done accommodating to peopleβs 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