here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: The Full Moon
hay que decir al carajo con todas las expectativas que la sociedad
y nuestros padres no adoctrinaron
y aprender a escuchar nuestra intuición y apoyarnos en nuestra salvajismo
aullar a la luna llena para encontrar nuestro ser primal
que nunca pudieron respirar
quizas asi empezamos a sanar y a encontrar comunidad
en gente que nos apoya, nos apapacha, y nos ama
con autenticidad
My higher education experience was different from a lot of people because I went as an non traditional student in my 20s with children. The first college I went to was Gainesville Community College where I received my A.A in English with a high GPA. After that I got my B.A at the University of Georgia. I did horrible in high school barely graduation so when I told people I was going to college, I was laughed at and ridiculed. Still, I was determined and surprised myself. At Gainesville Community college I had to take remedial classes in order to take regular classes. Surprisingly, I loved college and thrived in that environment. My favorite class was creative writing.
After Gainesville Community College, I transfer to the University of Georgia to get my B.A in English. That first semester was overwhelming and I felt incredibly out of place being one of the 1.6 percent of the Latino Student population at the time. Also, I was a mom and older so a lot of the time I was anxious and thought “wtf am I doing here, I don’t belong here”. I’d say that it was kind of a traumatic experience to be honest but I was determined to finish my degree and I did just that. There’s a lot more to that story but it’s for another blog posts. I’ve also written poetry reflecting on that experience and here’s one of them: https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/10/09/poetry-small/ There’s another poem I wrote a few years ago when I was in this rage mode about it called, “F*ck You, UGA”. I’m not sure if that poem will ever make it on this blog or anywhere but it is funny. My favorite classes at UGA where my Spanish classes where I thrived and I loved my professors. I wanted to get a minor in Spanish but my Pell grant ran out so I couldn’t .
One thing I will say is that I’m glad I did get my degree despite the many obstacles that stood in my way. From my oldest son being diagnosed with Autism my first year to getting pregnant with my middle son my second year to breaking out in an all body rash during last semester of college where they couldn’t determine the cause of it until almost the end of the semester. I was super determined in getting my degree no matter what craziness in my life was happening at the time and I did it. I hope I set an example to my kids that they too can do it.
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I can tell when my depression is getting the better of me
I uninstall most of my social media apps-
Start isolating from friends and family-
dissociate to whatever sad songs I have on repeat
Today’s music is Jojo and Taylor Swift
and I write anything and everything that comes into my head
about what has been or is my current tragedy
it’s almost comedic how dramatic I can
On days like these I feel too sensitive for this world
everything burns, everything is a trigger
and I almost hate myself and fall back into self destructive patterns
Seek out validation of my existence from others
it would be so easy to reach out and get help
but today, I want to fully feel my misery as it takes over me
let it speak in my writing
Me, my music, my paper and pen is all I need to get through
this latest depression spell
so as I thought about my response for this prompt, I wondered what does constitute as “playtime” in your middle age? For me, it’s every time I’m creative so that means writing or creating content for my blog and social media. Playtime also means finding moments of joy during the day whenever I can which is tough to do working two jobs. I do this by taking my daily coffee breaks at my day job while blasting my music in my ear buds or turning my car radio all the way up while I drive and having my own concert where I sing and dance in my seat. I’m sure I look crazy to other drivers but I don’t care. Lol. Playtime also means joking around with my coworkers and friends about the silliest or stupidest things that occur to me and either I make them cringe or make them laugh or sometimes both. Play time also means karaoke with my kids or discussing poetry with friends. I guess play time in my middle age means trying to find joy and happiness whenever and wherever I can.
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Unhappiness
me pierdo bajo tantas responsabilidades
y odio a la mujer que miro en el espejo
mi llama se apaga mientras me hundo
en la monotonía de mi rutina
todos me dicen que estoy loca
que debería enfocarme en mis bendiciones
pero mi mente me cuenta un cuentos diferente
I never asked to be born, much less to be a mosaic of trauma, insanity, and creativity
I prayed many times to be normal-to be someone else
but the day came when I had to embrace the masterpiece of duality and insanity that I am
to understand not everyone will understand me
to do the best I am with the deck of cards I’ve been handed
12/13/23
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
silence is no longer an option
if I continue to do so, I’d be suffocating the part of me
who needs to be heard in order to heal
I’d be failing myself, my ancestors, and future generations
silence is no longer an option
to do so is an act of violence against the writer and poet in me
whose purpose is to tell my story, my truth in order to recover
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I want the transparency of your being-
the stuff you won’t show anyone else
the secrets you’re afraid to share
I want your vulnerability in our intimacy
Even if you think it’s messy or cringy
I promise I won’t judge and there will be no need
for sorries
now that I’m falling for you
I want to know every part of you
I won’t do what the others have done to you or me
I’ll stay because love means loyalty and honesty
I wrote this poem in november of 2023.
I hold hands with my trauma and show her off to everyone
most people look at her with curiosity
some people are horrified
my family cringes and and whispers to me,
“it’s embarrassing, showing her as some kind of trophy”
I get mad and flip everyone off
and me and my trauma link arms and skip on our way
to share her story and create drama and chaos
who cares if no one understands our process
of how sharing her story is the key to my recovery
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I’m going to surrender myself to the source
to find my meaning and purpose in the universe
It doesn’t matter how many times I whine or bitch
about how hard this recovery is-
it’s going to be worth it-
and I’m going to look back on this journey
and will be glad I took my time
and didn’t try to jump any steps to get to where I’m supposed to be
I wrote this poem in October of 2023.
I give you a yard and you give me an inch-
it’s a game of back and forth nonsense
one where I respect your unspoken boundaries
and need for space
until one day the push back from you
pulled back into a dark place I haven’t been in a while
a place where my confidence breaks, a place where I start to question my worth
a place when my sense of self breaks once again
and I know right there and then, it’s better to give up
whatever this was
I’ve outgrown men who send me mixed signals
I wrote this in september of 2023.
The ME from June of 2014 sends me a message and asking, where are you?
I tell her, life didn’t go as planned-you’re divorced and looking for a place for your ex
but your kids are thriving-your oldest son has his driver’s license and is on his last semester
Of accounting at Athens Tech-
Your middle son will graduate from high school this year-
and your baby is now taller than you and becoming his own person
You’re working 2 jobs and you’re a citizen now and you’ve been to therapy
to learn healthier coping mechanisms-
you even drive now-you’re independent as fuck and live life on your own terms
you’ve even been to Peru twice-
You’re learning to follow your intuition and how use discernment in your choices
in how you live your life-
you’ve discovered your values underneath everything society brainwashed into you
and at the end of the day all you want be is a good mom and a good person
that’s the extent of your life’s purpose-
now that we know who we are
our next step is to plan the future we want-
we’ll keep on thriving girl-you were the go getter and determined woman in me
Even among one of my greatest depressions
You still got up and followed your passions-
And you laid the foundation-we’ll be okay-I promise
I’ll make you proud of me-
Love patty
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
there’s no need to be anyone but you-
you are a love child of God
who sends angels in the form of ancestors
to protect and guide you
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
the outline of her body in the middle of the road-
told the most tragic of stories
she wasn’t looking when she crossed the street
she was lost in her thoughts
and the driver speeding didn’t see her
and splat went her body
death came quickly to her
her last thought was mission accomplished
but the world thought
another victim of an unexpected and tragic circumstance
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
in my literary war chest lies a lifetime of love failures,
insecurities about motherhood and confusion about my identity
in my literary war chest lies unfiltered thoughts about grief
for everything I never was and potential unfulfilled
in my literary war chest lies the answers to how I survived
Catastrophe after catastrophe-
In my literary war chest lies proof of my strength and resilience
in the worst of times
