If I had my gluttonous way and I wasn’t counting the sodium content in fucking everything I’d devour an entire bag of chili cheese fritos in between purchase orders and writing poems I’d stress eat the fuck out of them I’d even offer some to my friends everyone needs to taste this salty and crunchy treat everyone needs to get addicted to this devilish snack that had me buying 4 bags at the time when it was on sale me and Chili cheese fritos were the most epic poem, a match made in consumerist heaven until middle age and genetics brought on high blood pressure and my addiction to chili cheese fritos had to end abruptly so for now, I’ll write silly poems about how I can’t have the one thing I once was addicted to and still crave and hope that once I get my blood pressure under control I’ll be reunited with my comfort snack and we’ll be together again as I write, as I cry as I lay on the couch binge watching some depressing show on netflix
if I’m going to be a mess, might as well be a hot mess
does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head- inside my heart-because lately I’m finding it hard to breathe as my emotions consume and control me- and I feel like the biggest failure and imposter for allowing it to happen even though I still function well enough to mask the mountain of turmoil and grief that’s currently residing me
Jealousy is a normal emotion of the human condition and shame shouldn’t be associated with it everyone feels it I used to run away from it but now I sit with it ask what it needs Sometimes it’s me projecting an insecurity or sometimes it’s a legit feeling And that’s okay too- and jealousy doesn’t have to destroy anything as long as I know how to acknowledge it and don’t allow it to consume me
An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.
So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.
ask me how many fucks I had to give about UGA football…lol
we won the national championship and everyone is so happy and I feel nothing I graduated from UGA but never felt included so while I’ve pretended to care, I’ve always felt like an outcast in a town who cares more about football and idiotic art and bike lanes for woke and privilege white people than for their poor and marginalized communities
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
me at 8 in an itchy AF dress, couldn’t hide my RBF
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
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.
graduating with my A.A in English and two kids….2/10 wouldn’t recommend…lol
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 .
me with my two boys at my English Department Graduation in 2009
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 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
On new year’s day of 2023,I have resolutions but they’re simple a trip to my homeland that’s been set in stone teaching my son to drive a divorce as a late birthday gift to myself keep my bangs because that’s really who I am pushing my oldest son to be more independent Continue to share my poetry with the world unapologetically Be wary of anything that pollutes my energy try my best to ebb and flow with the turbulent waves of my emotions take any obstacles that might occur in life in stride make more time for my friends and family become a new kind of brave woman and continue to do things out of my comfort zone to help me grow and evolve become an example of determination, discipline, and creativity for my kids to follow- and continue to inspire others with my journey of self discovery 2023 will be chaotic with everything I’m planning 2023 will be the year where I’m the definition of bravery
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 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
it’s me and my trauma-watch out, there won’t be a story left untold
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
don’t mess with a poet-you’ll become her muse whether you like it or not
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
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
Life on the BPD 