Turning 41: Changing the Narrative

β€œMy last year in my 30s ended up with me being an essential worker during a pandemic while being a mom of three and being involved in two different romantic liaisons. I could look back on what I have not accomplished in my life and be sad but instead I’ll focus on my growth and my goals for the next year. I’ve made a lot of progress this year both financially and personally. I’ve improved my credit score by 100 points by working 2 jobs and paying debt off. Also for the first time in my adult life I’m in a healthy romantic relationship with a wonderful man. This time last year I didn’t think either was possible and at times I don’t feel like I deserve all of the good fortune in my life. As I look forward to my next year and my new decade, I hope to really focus on becoming a confident driver, submit my writing everywhere and try to get published, and continue to work my two jobs to save up to buy 2 houses. I’m kind of excited for what the next decade looks like. My thirties taught me I can survive what I once thought would not be survivable. During my thirties, I felt myself merely surviving. In this next decade I look forward to thriving.”

I wrote this a year ago and so much has changed. I can tell you that my 40th year didn’t go as planned. I’m not involved in any romantic relationships.In fact, for the first time in 26 years, I’m not chasing love or the adrenaline rush of being in a romantic relationship. I can honestly say that I am in the healthiest and happiest relationship at this time-with myself. This time last year, I thought that personal growth meant sustaining a β€œhealthy” relationship with someone and now I’m not so sure. I have more to say about this but that’s something I will share later on.  I could talk about everything that went wrong this year but I won’t. Honestly, there are parts of that year that I’m not done processing and not ready to talk about and that’s okay. I learned in therapy that grief isn’t linear and I have to honor my process and not to suppress my feelings. It’s hard to write this but it’s my truth. What hasn’t changed is that I’m still working 2 jobs and am actually paying off new debt that I incurred when I went on several binge shopping sprees this summer and fall. I do have to say that my wardrobe is amazing and I’m the best dressed person in the office. I’ve had tremendous growth this year in a lot of areas. I’m in the best shape of my life after I took up angry power walking and running this summer and lost 20 pounds within a 3 months period. I beat this driving phobia I had through exposure therapy. I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality this summer and successfully completed a therapy program that has helped me manage my symptoms in a much healthier way. I started blogging again. I’ve lost count of how many poems and essays I’ve written because this year has been beyond inspiring. The best thing that has happened this year is that I’m finally the woman I had always wanted to be but was too afraid to be. It’s taken a lot of hard work, tears and so much introspection to get here. Here is a place where I no longer run away from my life but I run to it instead. Here is a place where I’m comfortable and in love with solitude and am no longer chasing the high of love in someone else. Here is a place where I look forward to each and every day because I finally understand that my life is a gift and not a burden. Here is a place where I’m no longer just surviving but I’m thriving. Here is a place I want to stay in for a really long time. My goals are for this year are simple:

  1. Continue to thrive by keeping my life as uncomplicated and drama free as possible.
  2. Say “yes” to anything that brings growth and progress even if it might feel uncomfortable at the time.
  3. Say “no” to anything that feels unhealthy or will stagnate my growth and progress.

Here is me looking forward to a calm year full of growth and progress.

February 23, 2022

Turning 40

My last year in my 30s ended up with me being an essential worker during a pandemic while being a mom of three and being involved in two different romantic liaisons. I could look back on what I have not accomplished in my life and be sad but instead I’ll focus on my growth and my goals for the next year. I’ve made a lot of progress this year both financially and personally. I’ve improved my credit score by 100 points by working 2 jobs and paying debt off. Also for the first time in my adult life I’m in a healthy romantic relationship with a wonderful man. This time last year I didn’t think either was possible and at times I don’t feel like I deserve all of the good fortune in my life. As I look forward to my next year and my new decade, I hope to really focus on becoming a confident driver, submit my writing everywhere and try to get published, and continue to work my two jobs to save up to buy 2 houses. I’m kind of excited for how the next decade looks like. My thirties taught me I can survive what I once thought would not be survivable. During my thirties, I felt myself merely surviving. In this next decade, I look forward to thriving.

February 22, 2021

Poetry: Thirty-Nine

I wrote this poem on February 22, 2021. I wrote this while I still in a relationship with my most recent ex. I really thought he would be the one to stay but it wasn’t meant to be and that’s okay. I look at year 39 that in spite of facing constant depression and craziness because of COVID, I still had something important in life and that was love even if at the end it didn’t work out. It was a year full of magical moments that I will never regret.

February 22, 2021

Last day of thirty nine
and I look back on this decade
with love and no regrets
The decade started with my third
miracle of life
and ended with the miracle of love
The decade started with a once stable
and normal suburban life
and ended with a chaotically busy and poly life
The decade started with a half loved marriage
and ended with an almost separation
Toxicity ruled 2 and a half years of the decade
but he left
Now I’m left with a new determination
to fulfill my potential and let no on
e
or nothing stop me

Poetry: Thirty-Eight

I wrote this on February 22, 2020. I had started working at Kroger in October of the previous year, was still trying to stop my situationship with “C”, and had just started dating my most recent ex-the second Andrew. I was becoming hyper aware of my unhealthy relationship patterns and didn’t want to repeat them and had my guard up but life happens and well I fell in love.

February 22, 2020

On the last day of 38
I’m filled with so much hate
Hate for the life I never had
Hate for me and my soon to be ex spouse
and for our toxic codependency
The year has been filled with highs and lows-
I was prolific with my poetry about my toxic lover
My toxic lover that follows
a pattern of toxic lovers
since the age of 15
Toxic lovers that abused me, used me,
and discarded me like trash-
Toxic lovers that made me
question my worth
Toxic lovers that left me breathless
with chemistry that felt like a drug
Toxic lovers that I kept coming back to
out of the habit of not loving myself enough
Toxic lovers that never want to define an β€œu
s”
Toxic lovers-that starting 2 weeks ago
I will leave forever alone
And on year 38
with all of my hate and rage
for my mediocre life
I decided to fight
Fight with determination and purpose
for the life me and my kids deserve
Fight with my body
working endless hours
with fatigue and sore knees
for the future I always wanted

A future that looks independent and thriving
on my own
A future that will become
my own universe who no one can enter
I may cry, I may want to die
but I will not give up-
not when I’m so close

And even though I met a ray of hope
with my first lover’s name
towards the end of year 38
My walls will stay up and guarded
No piece of my vulnerability
Will be exposed to him
until I’m sure it’s not the same old toxic codependent story

On the last day of thirty eight
I work on inner healing
I work on inner peace
I work on goals
to finally emerge as a butterfly on year 39
On the last day of 38
I say forever goodbye to toxic patterns and lovers
I say forever goodbye to the old insecure me
to welcome the new and confident me-
I say forever goodbye to my once comfortable
and mediocre life to welcome a universe
full of great potential–

Poetry: Thirty-Seven

I wrote this poem on February 22, 2019, the last day of being 37. It was a chaotic year that was filled with lots of ups and downs. It was the year I met “C” and who I now referred to as my “good” ex Jake.

February 22, 2019

Last day at 37 and I am humbled
By the calm that comes after the storm
That was last year
Several waves came
In the forms
Of the average millenial fuck boy
Pretending to converse
In hopes of DTF
It was fun, it was sexy, it was tiring
And when I was ready to quit the tinder world
My blond hurricane
Torpedoed into my life
One sweltering and lonely July Night
He took over my damaged heart
And mind
He took me on a rollercoaster of emotions
From rays of happiness
To rowdy winds of devastation
With more hellos, goodbyes and I love yous
That I’ve had in a lifetime
It was crazy, it was chaotic,it was love
And in one of our
Almost solid goodbyes-
In waltzed the amber of hope
He slowly put back together
The broken pieces of my heart
The hurricane had left behind
He made me believe hope
Was within my reach
He calmed down my chaotic thoughts
He held my peace and happiness
In his hands
It was good, it was easy, it wasn’t enough
And I just crashed back into
My previous existence
Of married monotony and routine
Again, I am alone and empty
In my solitude of motherhood and marriage

Poesia: Demaciado Sencilla

EscribΓ­ este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John cuando el me rechazo. Estaba bien enfadada.

Γ“yeme cuando te digo
Que ya no te amo
Me hiciste mucho daΓ±o
Por eso se acabo
Este doloroso cuento de amor
En que no supiste
Apreciar todo lo bueno que te quise ofrecer
QuizΓ‘s tu pensarΓ­as
Que yo era demasiado sencilla

Poesia: La Mujer de Hoy

EscribΓ­ este poema en Octubre del 2002 acerca del padre de mi hijo mayor. TenΓ­a bastante sentimientos encontrados pero mas que todo tenΓ­a rabia.

La Reina Maria Felix

Yo no soy aquella niΓ±a ingenua
Que tu conocistes
La que dejaba todo por ti
La que creΓ­a en el amor
Que tu le prometΓ­as
La que te amaba
Sin razΓ³n, sin condiciones
Sin enfrentar realidades
Esa soΓ±adora quedo atras
Y esta mujer que ves
Es una mujer desilusionada, realista,
Y pessimista
No cree en nadie que le promete amor
Y se ha vuelto frΓ­a
Todo esto gracias
A tu desgraciada ausencia

PoesΓ­a : PequeΓ±as Riquezas

EscribΓ­ este poema en Noviembre del 2002. Fue inspirado por muchas experiencias que habΓ­a tenido en ser siempre “la chica divertida del momento” para los hombres y nunca la chica con la cual quieren compartir su vida.

siempre

Ellos quedan acostados en la cama
El la mira, ella tan dormida, tan quieta
Y el piensa en muchas cosas
Aquel acuerdo que hicieron
Cuando todo esto empezΓ³
Las condiciones que el le pidio a ella
Que ella nunca podrΓ­a enamorarse de el
Y lo ΓΊnico que ellos podrΓ­an tener
serΓ­a un juego de sexo y nada mas
Tan simple que todo esto empezΓ³
Pero el nunca contΓ³ con enamorarse
de esta niΓ±a-ingenua, inconveniente,
e inocente de la vida
No contaba con extranar a esta niΓ±a
Caprichosa pero con una dulzura tierna
Y por fin
Nunca se imaginaba con este dia
que ahora no siente poder vivir sin ella
y sus pequeΓ±as riquezas

Poetry: I Wish

I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed AF. I wrote this because I was in a toxic work environment where I was discriminated against, disrespected, and at one point even slut shamed. We could say by today’s standards that I was bullied to the extent that getting up every morning for this job was really hard. I was tired of it when I wrote this poem. I’ll tell the story of this toxic job in another blog post.

resilience should be my middle name

I wish I could throw up
everything ugly in my life
and only enjoy the beautiful
Perhaps tell the put me down people
to fuck off

Or stop their pathetic attempts
to change me into their idea
of what I should be

And stop getting talked into what
they think is best for me

Poetry: Not That Woman

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
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
She’s got something else
When the world of beauty fails

She is not that pushover girl
Submissive with the golden curls
She’s 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
She’d rather not take that life route

Poesia: Inquieta

Escribi este poema en el 2002. Habia tronado con otro desgraciado infeliz y estaba bien triste y amarga.

Me quedo inquieta
Al saber que no me querias
Que no mΓ‘s fui para ti
Otra mujer que te dio el sΓ­
Para permitir que hagas
Todo lo que querΓ­as con ella
Ojala que algun dia aprenderas
Que nunca ganaras
Con ser tan desgraciado
Con tus feos modos
Y aunque me parte el alma
TendrΓ© que ser capaz
De superar todo esto
Aunque tenga muchos lamentos
tengo que prometerme a mΓ­ misma
Nunca verte mas en mi vida
Por que verte denuevo
Me traerΓ­a los mas tristes
recuerdos

A Decade of Blogging

sums up my decade

So today marks my 10 anniversary since starting this blog. I’ll admit that until the summer of this year I didn’t 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:

Hola/Hello

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 doesn’t 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 don’t 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 didn’t 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 I’m not getting into how that relationship ended or why (that’s 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 that’s probably one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Except this time, it wasn’t 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 someone’s 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 didn’t 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:

Playlist: For the Brokenhearted: Sad Edition (the one where you cry)

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 here’s that post:

A New Diagnosis: BPD

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 here’s that poem:

Poetry: Another Mate

My writings and poetry are confessional, sometimes childish, and at times super emotional. It’s 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 they’re 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 it’s a story about a woman who is far from perfect. It’s 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, who’s crazy, and who feels immense sadness and rage when trauma hits. It’s 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. It’s also a story of a woman who has continued to triumph after trauma. Most importantly it’s a story of a woman who is done accommodating to people’s 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

Poetry: I Wish I Could

I wish I could’ve spent more time picking up a hobby than writing all of this salty poetry about this dude. LMAO. This is of course another poem inspired by the “great breakup of 2001”.

I wish I could
Forget all of you
And take back the time
Spent loving you
I wish I could make you see
All of the misery you caused me
I wish I could make you feel
My pain that is so extremely real
I wish I could see you hurting
It would be something I would take comfort in
I wish I could just not care
But life isn’t always fair

What Does Thanksgiving Mean to an Immigrant

When me and my family first immigrated to the U.S in September of 1986; Thanksgiving was a foreign concept to us. We were introduced to Thanksgiving by our extended family members who were seasoned veterans in celebrating this American Holiday. I was 5 when I immigrated to this country so my memories of our first or second Thanksgiving are pretty blurry. 

What I do remember is going to my uncle’s house where my aunts, uncles and numerous cousins would gather. My mother sat with my aunts and grandmother while they shared the latest chisme (aka-gossip) while they cooked and later on served dinner to the kids and the men. Yay for machismo culture <insert sarcasm>. My father and my uncles drank together while they joked around. I remember playing with my cousins or following my sister upstairs with our teenage cousins to the bedroom with the TV to watch music videos with George Michael ,Rick Astley blasting on MTV. Maybe that’s how I acquired my sometimes basic taste in music.

I also remember that since we were away from adults, our cousins took the opportunity to teach me and my sister all of the bad words in English. Haha. Another fond memory that comes to mind is the newest babies being passed around the aunts or the older female cousins. There wasn’t such a thing as asking permission from the parents for their baby unless of course the child is being nursed. I also remember hating the taste of turkey. It tasted like rubber to me.

me and almost all of my cousins circa 1987, I’m in front in the frilly blue dress

There was warmth and laughter in this idyllic setting of Thanksgiving but that’s not the whole picture. There was also unpleasantness. My mom is one of nine children and with that many personalities; there was no way to avoid drama when all of them gathered in one space. There were more than a few petty conflicts between family members on Thanksgiving and other holidays gatherings.

My mother decided after a couple of Thanksgivings it would be better to celebrate Thanksgiving at home by ourselves. So my mother learned how to season and make a turkey and stuffing. Instead of the traditional green bean casserole or sweet potato pie; our sides were Peruvian Potato Salad and Macaroni Salad accompanied by Peruvian Hot Chocolate and Dad’s famous alcoholic Peruvian eggnog. We would watch movies rented from the local video store while we waited for the turkey to be ready. When my dad started getting tipsy, he would start playing Spanish Christmas Carols, Huaynos, and Musica Criolla. It was music that my teenage sister would cringe at and me and my brother would tolerate. I didn’t realize then but I do realize now that my father was in his own way trying to make sure that we wouldn’t forget our roots as we were living this new life in America. My parents tried their best to make sure that our strong Peruvian culture and traditions were not forgotten as we acclimated to the the new Americanized way of living. When dinner was ready, we would sit down at the table. I ,being the youngest and most impressionable by my then Catholic School upbringing, would ask the family to say a prayer and ask them to say something they were thankful for. I think I was seven or eight at the time but I guess my parents thought it was a good tradition to start. And of course, my siblings would get annoyed but they did it.

Despite those first few Thanksgivings when we lived very much under the poverty line; it was still a happy time for us as a family. My parents made sure that Thanksgiving was almost always filled with  warmth, love, and laughter. One could say that  what Thanksgiving meant to my newly arrived immigrant family then  was learning how to incorporate our culture into a new American holiday like Thanksgiving. While my parents understood the importance of assimilation; they still made sure me and my siblings didn’t forget our culture.  Today, I’m filled with gratitude that my parents brought the best of both cultures to Thanksgiving and most holidays in their own unique way. I’ve been able to bring these bicultural traditions to my own family while also making new traditions.

me and my family circa 1986, I’m the one sitting on my mom’s lap

Poesia: Dime

Escribi este poema en el 2001. Estaba bien enojada y triste. Me sentia abandonada.

Dime que paso
ΒΏPor quΓ© rompiste nuestro lazo de amor?
Dime que hice yo.
Que me dejaste con este llanto
Dime porque te fuiste
Tu no sabes el daΓ±o que me hiciste
Dime quΓ© tiene ella
Que ni siquiera dejaste tus huellas
Dime que ya no me amas
Y no te veo jamas
Dime adios para siempre
Y quΓ­tame estos amorosos lentes.