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Poetry: Acceptance

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

me in March of 2022

I fell into the trap of “acceptance”
not understanding I was slowly losing parts of myself
for the sake of fitting in, for the sake of other people
who loved to judge me
accept that you’re too fat to wear that bikini
accept that you’re too old to chase your dreams
accept that you’re too hard to love
it took me too long to figure out
the acceptance of others was costing me
my sanity and my self worth
and I said, “fuck your opinions on who I should be”
from now on, I’ll wear whatever I want,
I’ll chase my dreams, and I’ll always be worthy of love”

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Poetry: Inadequate

I had forgotten this poem I wrote in 2002 when I was going through something pretty hard.

I’ve fallen out of-
I’m no longer yours to-
I keep trying to find the right words
to tell you I’m done with “us”
but everytime I try
it all feels so inadequate
and I fall under a blanket of shame and guilt
and I can’t go through with it

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What’s Your Bra Size?

picture of how it feels of when I’m asked “what’s your bra size?”

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

I hate it when men ask me, “what’s your bra size?”
it’s like my bust-line invites unwanted and sexist questions and comments
about my body
and it makes me want to throw up and write about them violently
because out of all of the questions in the world to ask ME,
a mother, a public health worker, a grocery store clerk, an immigrant,
a Peruvian, an American, a friend, a poet, a blogger, a woman,
a PERSON-
they choose to ask me an awkward question about my body-
I used to entertain them and tell them while laughing uncomfortably
holding in my disgust and anger for them
but now I either ignore them, call them out, or block them
my boobs or any part of my body are no longer up
for the objectification of others

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Poetry: State of Modern Womanhood

I wrote this poem in December of 2021. I was kind of angry. Lol.

performing this poem at open mic in October of 2022

Let’s hashtag the fuck out of our imperfect perfect lives
smile for the camera but make it look candid
this is for instagram after all-
we want to present an image of authenticity
Authentic needs to look put together and balanced
there can be no cracks in our suburban realities
no one wants to see tears and frowns
let’s continue to act like modern clowns
except our lipsticks presents a false smile
that hides our misery inside and let’s add a witty caption
that spells out live,laugh, love
and hashtags about #momlife,#gratitude, and #bestlifeever
depression, sadness, and anger has no room in our modern world
where we pretend to be perfectly imperfect moms and wives
with these amazing and perfect lives
let’s continue the facade of authenticity
even as we burn inside and want to die
we are not just okay but we are fucking fabulous
so honey continue to smile for that selfie
even as the expectations of modern womanhood
continues to burn us all up

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Poster Girl for Failure

this is so true….makes lemons out of lemonade

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

I used to think I was the poster girl for failure
I’m a failure at love, I’m a failure at life, I’m a failure at everything
but all of these are thoughts of a past version of me
the version of me who saw herself as a victim
the version of me who took comfort in her misery
in my middle age I changed that narrative
I no longer see myself as a failure
I see myself as a person who makes mistakes
who’s deeply flawed, who has caused pain
it’s doesn’t make me a loser or a disaster
It makes me a human who’s trying her best to live her life
and sometimes that doesn’t always look pretty
I now see failure as stepping stone,a learning curve
to continue to grow, to continue to evolve
to become better and healthier than I’ve been before

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Poesia: Miseria Toxica

Here is the English Version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/03/poetry-tired-2/

Mis amigas son mi peor enemigas
Sacando a la luz todas mis inseguridades
y siento ansiedad que me trae insomnia
pensando si ellas tienen la razón
seré en realidad una mujer suela?
seré en realidad una madre negligente?
seré en realidad una estupida,
por querer superarme?
y me convenzo que nunca
seré suficiente para lo que se
espera de mi
y me siento deprimida
con esta realización
y me quedo dormida
con un corazón lleno
de miseria toxica

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Poetry: Waiting for the Impossible to Happen

Aqui esta la version en Espanol de este poema:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1929

I wait and wait for the impossible to happen
for me to fall in love again
even though I’ve sworn off romance forever
because of the catastrophic emotional earthquake
that takes place within me
everytime a lover stops loving me
but the romantic in me refuses to die
and won’t listen to logic
she tells me, “it would be truly tragic to deny
yourself another love story, you never know,
the next one could be your happy ending”

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The Work Blues

I’ve made taking selfies at work part of my routine at work
I bring style, beauty, and entertainment to my job-they’re lucky to have me

Do you enjoy your job?

It’s a moody Monday full of dread and adult angst
but to work I go even though I don’t want to
I’m rather stay home creating new worlds
that bleed from my mind
in my sweats and sans bra
but bills need to be paid
so I put on appropriate attire to face
my Monday to Friday hostage situation
put on my customer service voice I’ve perfected
and turn on my fake positivity
all because my passion doesn’t pay the bills yet
but it’s okay, i say to myself
because this hostage situation
is temporary

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Poetry: Racing Thoughts

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

What do I do with a mind that won’t quit?
It keeps me on this never ending guilt trip
These racing thoughts keep me up at night
And tell me write, write, write
And I want it all to stop the overflowing inspiration
from my muse cup
But this is who I am
and forever will be
a bipolar and BPD me
trying hard to deal with existing

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Uncomfortable

Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.

in order to grow, we must lose parts of ourselves that hold us back from reaching our potential

saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
even as I lost her in parts
first came the extra pounds and inches I ran off from the curvy girl who used food as comfort
and for a while a stranger stared at me from the mirror as I wondered where my cleavage went
or how my waistline got so small
then came the spectator and the passenger I lost as I gained confidence and power in sharing my truth, in sharing my art and I became the main character and the driver of my own life
finally I lost the princess who held onto others for safety, who relied on others for acceptance and love-she left on a windy October day when she conquered a phobia that haunted her for 15 years
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
but she couldn’t stay around if I wanted to grow, to evolve, to become the mother my children
always deserved, to become the woman I always wanted to be

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Poetry: soft again

I wrote this poem in March of 2022

me around the time I wrote this poem…

I want to be soft again and fall in love
without thinking
that feels like a special kind of freedom
to share the burdens with someone
to share the laughter with someone
to share a unique kind of love with someone
but my heart is locked under a fortress
and I refuse to let anyone in
because in all honesty I don’t think
I could stand the pain again
when another lover leave suddenly
and I’m left again with the shards of my heart
to put them back together and carry on