I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/25/poetry-looking-forward/
sentandome en nuestra felicidad de recién casados,
le doy las gracias a Dios por tanta felicidad
vendrá muchos recuerdos que haremos de nuestra vida compartida
criando a nuestros hijos desde bebitos a adolescentes angustiados
discusiones triviales, responsabilidades, y facturas de la casa
y un día le contaremos a nuestros nietos nuestro cuento de amor
nos pelearemos de quien inició nuestra relación (fui yo)
hoy dia, soy la mujer más feliz en el mundo
en convirtiéndome en tu esposa
This was my response to prompt #24: Your Top Priority
I build the life of my dreams through discipline and hard work
while I appreciate everything I have at this moment
even the minor annoyances
and especially the moments of calm and silence
I’m no longer relegating myself to a side character
or a side chick or a passenger in my life
I’m writer, the master, the driver of the life I’m creating
I wrote this in December 2021.
Believing in myself feels like an act of rebellion
after years of self loathing and self destruction
I finally feel enough and complete
Is this some kind of dream?
Do I really love myself?
Do I really accept myself?
Do I really care about myself?
I do and I do and I do
I’m ready to live out my truth
I’m complicated and complex
and not terrible or a hot mess
I’ve been forever misjudged
and thought I was too much
The reality of my authenticity
Brings out a new transparency
I was never too much or not enough
or even the hardest to love
I might be a complicated puzzle to solve
But I’m always, always, worthy of love
This was my response to prompt #12: Something to celebrate
Tonight I celebrate with friends, with champagne and music
We celebrate how far I’ve come and make a toast
to a future full of potential and promise
we laugh about all my past drama, dance to Taylor Swift and Yung Gravy
and cry with joy about everything good in my life
tonight is a celebration of the life I’ve work hard to build
tonight is a celebration of who I fought hard to become
I wrote this in December of 2021.
I was never the marrying kind
Don’t know why I forced myself into that line
Maybe because of society’s expectations
I made marriage my destination
But it wasn’t really who I ever was
Forever is not meant to be in my book of love
But still I tried for seven years
And by year 7, I ran into my biggest fear
I felt trapped in a cage of my own making
Happiness, contentment, and authenticity I was faking
But it was never truly me
Living this suburban reality
And one day I wanted to sleep forever
My mind collapsed from society’s pressure
to continue this facade of being the perfect wife
With my perfectly imperfect life
My authenticity I had to put aside
I’m a wife and mother of three
There’s no such thing as being free
But these were the lies I told myself
The critic in me I learned to quell
I learned I could be a mother but not a wife
My husband took our relationship’s demise in stride
There would no more anniversaries
We were done with self imposed forgeries
And a new chapter started with us
One full of laughter, friendship and familial love
This is my response to prompt #15: the best kind of surprise
Love surprises me with a glance, with a slight touch on my hand
And 99.9 percent of me wants to run
I don’t want to take a chance once again with my sanity
but the romantic in me say “fuck it”
maybe this will finally be a different story
one where my lover doesn’t leave
I wrote this poem in 2016 when I was reflecting on how different my children were. At the time, my middle son was going through a difficult time and it was hard to deal with.
Living with my three children
Is like living in three different countries
My oldest would be Singapore
With strict rules and laws,
He hates flaws in himself
And others and is unforgiving
It’s challenging to live in
Singapore
My middle child would be a war torn ridden country
Like Syria
That’s currently filled with constant chaos,
He is trying to find himself in a place
He feels unwanted and lost
It is an unpredictable struggle
To reside in Syria
My youngest child would
Be an established and friendly country like Spain
He is vibrant, laid back yet energetic
Occasionally you hear about political protests
That reminds me of his occasional tantrums when
His life feels unjust
It is almost a predictable and easy existence to
Live in Spain
I wrote this poem in 2006.
The wind makes the plants and branches dance,
Like our lives dance everyday, sometimes slow,
Sometimes fast, sometimes soft, sometimes rough
Will we ever find a steady rhythm,
A steady beat –or
Do We dance to different tunes until the branch breaks?
What is the name of the soundtrack of our lives?
I wrote this poem in fall of 2005 when I was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities of being a mother, a girlfriend, a student and a worker. As usual at that time, I took on too much and was trying to be everything to everyone. One trait of BPD that I’ve carried throughout the years is over extending myself sometimes to my detriment in order to make other people happy.
Feelings I can’t turn off
Quickly come in droves
Don’t know what to do
My options are few
Do I follow my gut?
And get away from this rut
Or do i stay here ?
And become what I fear;
A woman that settles
And lets others meddle
A woman with no mind
And with everything, she is fine
But can I turn off the real me?
And stay so unhappy
I wrote this poem in 2006 about my tumultuous relationship with writing. I love to write and it’s saved me more times than I can count. However, I tend to beat myself up if I’m not writing enough.
Instead of tears from eyes that long to spill,
I will spill words onto these pages.
Words that make sense,
Words that don’t make sense,
Many are in fact nonsense
I will let my emotions, the wind
And my surroundings guide me until
I fill up these pages
Full of nonsense, prose,
Poetry, ideas, and everything I can think of
This will be a new phase
this new phase will be full
of promise and potential
And it will also be full
of what I hope is the inspiration
that leads me to share my relationship
to the world.
this will be my fourth baby
Another one I will nurse and raise until it is
As beautiful and complete as my
real life ones.
This is the promise I make to
my pathetic little beast.
I wrote this poem in 2006 in college. I’ve always been kind of introspective when it comes to the possibilities of life.
The full moon strikes full of unseen possibilities
Possibilities that dwindle as life goes
Through the process of aging or does it?
Perhaps we are the ones who put limits
To our potential to be anything or do anything
Perhaps it really is true that we are the writers of our own destiny
Life on the BPD 