I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Maybe it’s lack of sex or lack of sleep but I must declare-
Christopher Columbus is a piece of shit
Maybe it’s my own insecurities or maybe it’s a projection
but I must say you can get away with murder
if you’re a white male
Maybe it’s the BPD and the depression
But I must scream FUCK WHITE SUPREMACY
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I don’t want to work that extra shift but my discover statement
tells me otherwise-
it tells me that once again I’m falling into a world of debt-
for daring to live a life above my means, above my class
and if I’m not careful I can slip back into poverty status
so I’ll work that extra shift and stop trying to live
a higher class life that’s not meant for me yet-
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: Remembrance
cierro los ojos y un maremoto de nostalgia viene hacia mi
y corro y corro y corro pero me alcanza que me ahogo
y parte de mi quisiera regresar a mi pasado contigo cuando era feliz
y casi, casi te mando un mensaje preguntándote
Como estas? Si todavía sigues con ella? Si, por fin encontraste la felicidad que tanto anhelabas?
pero, mi abuela interviene y me sacude, abro mis ojos y regreso a mi presente
y encuentro mi razón y susurro al universo que te deseo lo mejor
pero acepto que lo nuestro cuento de amor es algo definitivamente acabado
como los cuentos de hadas que papi me contaba cuando era niña
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the nostalgia of Lima sets in
and I ache for the sights, sounds, and warmth
of my homeland-
even though it’s been a few days
I want to go back already
I don’t feel myself fully in American
my body’s here but my spirit was left in lima
maybe because the few memories I have of Lima
are happy and mostly pure from trauma
whereas in America
it’s been tragedy after tragedy
disappointment after disappointment
and while I’ve planted my roots here with my children
my spirit now resides somewhere in Lima
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
running in the sun warms my body, warms my thoughts
it invokes my need to worship it like my ancestors
before the colonizers declared it wrong and pagan
but they couldn’t erase my blood and my DNA
and my deep connection to the Sun,
my ancestral GOD
Always bringing me to the surface of gratitude and love
It’s been 2 years since my BPD diagnosis and some things have changed, some things have remained the same. I still have the same two jobs and still adhere to my strict routine of consistency and routine with exercise, writing, and therapy. I’m still on the same meds for my anxiety and depression. All of that has helped with my continued progress and growth. And I still continue to suffer from major depressive episodes but it’s not as bad as it used to be and here’s a blog I wrote about it recently:
But You Can’t Be Depressed, You’re a Mom
What has changed overall has been me. I remember last year writing about how I was living an authentic life and while that was mostly true, there was still something I had to take care of to make this true, my divorce and telling my youngest son about it. I went back to therapy to navigate these big feelings in actually starting the process and following through and telling my youngest son about it. I’m glad to report, I filed for divorce a couple of months ago and told my son who took it better than I expected. After this, I felt like this major burden of guilt and grief has been lifted off from me. It was hard, really hard to have lied about this part of my life for the past four years to my son and to other family members. Three of those years, I felt like I was leading a double life as I had to be careful not to let one part of my life bleed into the other. It was awful and reflecting back on this, I think this was a major trigger for my mental health breakdown in the summer of 2021. Feeling guilt and shame with the immensity of emotions that comes with BPD is horrible and something I would never wish on my worst enemy.
Another major thing that happened in year 2 is that I took two trips to my homeland, Peru. The first one was in September of 2022 and the second one was in March of this year. Both times I went, it was amazing and the first trip helped me reconnect with my roots and find a sense of identity I had been searching for all of this time. I hadn’t been back since I was 9 so it had been 32 years since I had been home. It was strange, glorious, amazing and overwhelming at the same time. It felt like I finally found a piece within me that had been missing all of this time.
The second trip was even better because I took my oldest son who hadn’t been on a plane since he was an infant and we got to visit my dad’s hometown of Oxapampa. I think I’m still processing that trip because it was so special and meaningful to take my son to Peru and show him his and my roots. I’m honestly still processing both trips and I’ll write about both of them later. What I can say is that both trips helped in my healing and recovery process from my BPD symptoms. Before, I was still floundering when it came to trying to establish a stable identity. That changed radically after I came back from my first trip.
to be continued in part two-
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I finally read a book I felt seen in
I finally read a book that didn’t make a Latina
a side character, a vixen or a maid
I finally read a book that addressed
the complexity of the intersectionality
of an American Latina’s identity
I finally read a book that changed my life
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the facade of equality is cloaked in good intentions and lovely words-
and while laws have been passed to prevent discrimination
and to try to level the game of success,
it’s all a sham, it’s all a con
we still live in a world where the color of your skin and social status
and gender determine your prosperity
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
My favorite words are my sons names
names that taught me about patience
and unconditional love
names that have made me get up
when I didn’t want to
names that fill me with faith and hope
when I’m about to lose it
names that make me want to become
a better person than I was yesterday
names I live for
names I would die for
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
Poesia: Algo Pasajero
I’m more than a temporary destination for men to lay their love in
I will no longer lay down and play princess
and adjust and accommodate to their egos and needs
when they can never make me a priority
when they can never acknowledge my humanity
from now I won’t allow anyone near me
unless they show themselves worthy of my time and energy
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I used to have a tunnel vision of love
thought it could only be felt with someone
but I was wrong
love is in the trees
love is in the ocean
love is in the earth
and love is in myself
my higher power taught me this
and it’s a lesson I’ll forever cherish
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I give my pain and sorrow to God
and it lessens the heaviness in my soul
and I’ve never felt lighter
and I laugh more and feel content and gratitude
and I no longer want to die
Instead I’m excited to live
I’m excited about my wrinkles and every birthday
because I’m finally enjoying the gift of life
God has bestowed on me
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
even in our middle age, our mami still tends to us
calling us, asking about our eating habits and love life
giving bits of wisdom and encouragement
still worrying about us
she doesn’t have to
but it’s her nature to do so
it’s a habit of almost half a century that’s hard to break
it’s a tradition of an unconditional mother’s love
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I was trapped in a mental cage of misery
I didn’t know how to rewrite my story
and while poetry helped me
it was with grief and therapy I finally felt free
I learned to let go of old resentments and grudges
and healed old emotional bruises
and while I still have minor annoyances
my anger and angst no longer control me
This is a poem I wrote in July. I was angry when I wrote it. Lol.
celebrating a country that rips babies apart from their parents
and takes away rights from the marginalized
and makes anyone who’s not white and christian feel unwelcome
feels like the cruelest irony
it’s celebrating genocide, racism, prejudice, xenophobia, and white supremacy
it’s celebrating everything atrocious and wrong about this country
it almost feels like a personal violation of my beliefs
to celebrate the hypocrisy of this country
founded on genocide and slavery
who claims liberty and justice for all
but “all” is really white, christian and male
so I’m passing on this year’s 4th of July celebrations
because except for a small portion of Americans
no one can claim true freedom
or independence in this American Land
Life on the BPD 