I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
my transformation and rebirth meant giving voice to my shadow
who’s vindictive, petty, and mean
I’ve never really allowed her to breathe
much less be seen
and now she’s almost everywhere-
taking space in uncomfortable spaces
learning she’s not bad-
she just needed attention and to feel valued
I’ve finally accepted she’s an important part of me
who needs to be seen
As I sit here squished in my writing space because the damn Christmas tree is taking up the other side of the room, I still feel incredibly blessed and fortunate that I’m writing this post about how the 11th year of blogging was. To still be here telling my story though this platform with the most incredible followers is a true blessing. To the many people who have been supportive of me as I vomit out some of the cringiest and craziest shit, y’all are the real MVPs. I feel so encouraged and loved by every like or comment. I would say that it was a low key year because I didn’t experiment as much as I wanted to. What I did do is tell my story from January of 2022 through December of 2022 with my poetry along with my translated poems from my early writing days. I’ve translated a total of 215 pages of poetry from 1997 to 2004. It’s been a challenge for sure but it was important for me to take on this project because it allows me to reconnect with my first language in a creative way. Also, my main purpose for taking on this project is because I’d love for my parents and other Spanish speaking relatives in Peru to be able to read my poetry. I’d even started putting some of these poems on tik tok which has been somewhat of an interesting experiment considering I don’t know what I’m doing and still figuring out the best way to create content there. I guess one could say that I’m passionate about telling my story. Here’s my tiktok handle if y’all want to check it out: https://www.tiktok.com/@lagringachola81
Another new thing I did this year is start using my real name on this blog and across all of my social media. After my divorce, aka, my liberation day, I was finally able to let go of my pseudonym Eliza Dalton and use my real name Patty Tacuri. So, hi everyone, my name is Patty and I have issues. I love to use that opening line at open mic. Lol.
I’ve also been going to open mic at my local pub and it’s helped me connect with other poets which has helped me grow as a writer and poet. Being up there on that stage sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself has felt incredibly empowering and healing. I’m grateful to the Athens Word of Mouth community who’s been so open and receptive to whatever trauma laden or angry poem I decide to read that night.
As to what kind of blog content I have planned for 2024, I plan to leave the format as it is in telling my story of 2023 and including the translated pieces in between those poems. I hope that I can do more collaborations and review some more poetry books. I don’t have much more planned than that but who knows, sometimes my crazy mind comes up with the most off the wall ideas and an unexpected playlist or an essay about some kind of trauma happens. I know that in 2024, I want to be more open and vulnerable in telling my story and how my recovery journey has been going. We’ll see what happens. I can tell you that this blog is my happy place and something that keeps me going when my depression wants to get the better of me. Planning blog content this year has kept me grounded more times than I can count this year especially with some of the big emotions that have come up with the major life events I’ve had. It’s become part of my recovery process from mental illness and a safe space for me to be honest and vulnerable. Also, since I’m such a main character now, haha, I decided to give y’all a preview about what’s to come next year in telling my story. I’m calling it the twelve days of Patty starting on December 20th. Again, I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my crazy and sometimes cringe poetry. To my fellow bloggers, poets,and storytellers-my message for you is to keep going! Your art and stories are important!
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I’m tired of same repetitive compliments
You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying”
you’re BEAUTIFUL
but never in my life
have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent,
or have I been told that I inspire poetry?
and old lonely me would entertain
these flimsy lust or love possibilities
kept my standards low to keep my bed warm
and to escape my chronic emptiness
but after almost a year of solitude
my standards have been raised to the ceiling
and now I’m protective of my energy
anyone who wants to get near me
will have to make a solid effort
write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners
and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks
It’s been 4 years since I took an oath to become an American citizen. I took an oath specifically to Trump which makes me nauseous typing BUT I also took an oath because of Trump. Before making the decision to become an American citizen, I had never really cared about politics but that was until Trump got elected. If you were a POC or immigrant or both, you felt the shift in the racial tension in the U.S right before the election but especially after the election. Racists overtly made their ignorant beliefs known that immigrants were not welcomed in this country. DACA was in the process of being repealed. DACAmented kids who should have been protected were being deported and there was a rise in deportation for undocumented immigrants as well or well the media made it seem like that. I felt that as an immigrant with LPR (legal permanent resident) status, I could possibly be next. In February of 2016, I sent my paperwork to USCIS to solidify my relationship with America. One could say that for better or worse, I finally decided to make a commitment to this country. Here is my blog post about the process:
https://rejectingstagnationafter.wordpress.com/2018/09/04/becoming-a-citizen-in-the-age-of-trump/
What has changed in the past 4 years since becoming an American and what does being American mean to me now?
Well, I’ve voted in 2 elections since I’ve become an American including the national election in 2020 (yay, no more Trump). In October of this year, I applied for my passport and have received it. Now, I can take a trip out of the country without any worries or concerns. While it is an immense privilege to be an American citizen since I now have a whole new world of opportunities opened up and I can travel anywhere; I feel that I haven’t really changed on the inside. I still see myself and identify as an immigrant but now I also call myself an American. But to be honest, my idea of being an American has changed. I used to think I needed a piece of paper to say “Oh, I’m American” but for better or worse, America is and has been ingrained in me since that hot September day in 1986 when I set my foot on American soil at the age of 5.
I was an American when every morning at school I would say the Pledge of Allegiance in my broken and terrible English at the age of 6 and 7.
I was an American when I went back to Peru at age 9 to get my resident alien status solidified with my family.
I was an American when I met my childhood best friends in Hawaii at age 11.
I was an American when I had my babies at ages 17, 24, and 30.
I was American when I started working for the government at the age of 18.
I was an American when I got my college degree in 2009 from the University of Georgia .
I was an American in 2016 and early 2017 when I attended protests and marches for immigrant and women’s rights.
And I was an American when people told me, “my english is good for being a Mexican” or I’ve been discriminated against or oppressed in this country by the people that don’t want “my kind” here.
I used to believe that I didn’t belong here because of the racism, prejudice, and ignorance I’ve encountered but that’s no longer the case. This year, I finally let go of those beliefs because I’ve embraced that I am America and America is me. My life may have been harder in many aspects because I wasn’t the average “American born” citizen but I will tell you that I wouldn’t trade my experience as an American to be average. I I feel that working harder than the “average American” for my success has made me appreciate my success so much more and for that I am thankful. My parents had no idea of the many hardships they would endure making the decision to immigrate to this country but I am glad they made that journey. It’s taken me 35 years to get here but today I can honestly say that I’m proud to be an American.
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
healing is chaos and calm intertwined with diving timing
because after almost falling of the cliff of insanity
and wanting to end it all
a light flickered inside of me to push through-
that light was sometimes my anger, therapy, poetry
or my friends encouraging me to to move forward
to continue on my path of self discovery
and a year later-
I no longer care about why someone’s love wavered
or why someone treated me like shit
all i care about is vibrating to the version
of my highest and healthiest self
I care about intentionally setting fire to the path
of personal and professional success
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
for a long time I had given up on love-
thinking why should I even try
If I screw it up each and every time
but lately I feel myself lighter, happier-
and full of hope
that even after my disastrous love history
That’s still a world of romance left to experience and explore
There’s still more muses to write poetry about-
my love story didn’t end with an electronic pink slip
or being blocked from my whatevership
my love story will start over again
with someone who’s brave and strong enough to handle me-
and can’t imagine his life without me
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Frigid
me ignoras, me rechazas, me conviertes en nada-
y trato de acercarme para revivir lo que teníamos
pero tu me haces sentir como una idiota, una estupida
me dices que no pasa nada y que estoy loca
Y yo me siento atrapada porque no quiero quedarme sola
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland
once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for
since I could remember-
I felt like Alice in Wonderland
my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe-
taking in the glorious sights and sounds
of my birthplace
the 32 years away from it didn’t matter
the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back
Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to
and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground
that saw my birth and early childhood
made me understand there really is no place like home
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need
It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry
another mean and petty poem appears
it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen
it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me
my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments
I’m more complicated than that
I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos
that is her life
Life on the BPD 