I wrote this in January of 2023.
Yesterday I wondered how it would feel like to travel at the speed of light
I almost thought of trying it as I drove-but knocked out that intrusive thought
as the faces of my sons came to my mind-even in the worst of my crazy moments
my boys come to rescue me-reminding me I have so much to live for
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Movements
como poetas, escritores, y artistas
nuestro poder es crear cambios radicales en el mundo
nuestra bendición es poder recordar a la gente
de su humanidad, de la esperanza
cuando el mundo se siente como un abismo oscuro sin luz
Glimpse of me (inspired by Joji)
I catch a glimpse of the different versions of me
I’ve been in photographs, old poetry, past journal entries
dresses too big for me, mad women I was obsessed with
and I’m in awe of how I was able to survive despite all of the pain felt-
I’m grateful for all of the love I’ve given and made-
and all of the love given to the different versions of me
I’m glad for all of the versions of myself I’ve been in this lifetime
Who’ve led me to the me I am today
A woman in control of her thoughts, and emotions
A woman ready to let go of her past
A woman excited to embark on new adventures in love and life-
A woman finally living life on her own terms without regrets and lies-
The woman I’m becoming makes me tremble with enthusiasm
of what’s to come now that I’ve let go of everything
that’s been holding me back
11/20/22
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
to little me, I’m sorry, lo siento
I’m sorry, lo siento
There are no words that could make sense
or give purpose to what you went through
it was awful that your childhood was tainted by trauma
that wasn’t acknowledged
or that your feelings were invalidated
by those who promised to love and protect you
I’m sorry , lo siento
I’m sorry, lo siento
and while I know my words are insufficient to lessen
the pain and trauma you experienced
I’m here to acknowledge it and make sure you can heal from it
When I think about the greatest gift someone can give me, it’s trust. I feel like trust is something that comes with being a safe space for them to share their troubles, their concerns, their most private thoughts with me. The inner circle I have now with my family and friends gives me that and I feel honored that I can be that person to them. It is important to have community and be safe spaces for each other when the world continues to be a never ending dumpster fire.
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
Life on the BPD 