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
she thinks she should be thanked for flexing her confidence clothed in privilege and luxury by posting advice to women about how dining alone in a fancy restaurant is women’s empowerment and I have an adverse reaction that makes me want to vomit it feels like a modern day Marie Antoniette moment perhaps it’s because I’m a working class immigrant woman who struggles in America perhaps it’s because the rights of the marginalized and working class are being ripped away from us and on my social media feed, this yuppie and elitist bullshit appears how can I be friends with this bleached blonde Barbie oh yeah, we worked together briefly and I almost start to comment with an essay on how she should check her privilege before handing out tokens of toxic positivity while people like me are drowning in debt and lack financial stability but I stop this barbie isn’t worth my time or energy it’s time to unfriend and unfollow the marie antoinette wannabe who only serves to trigger my working class rage who serves to remind of the injustice and inequality in this capitalistic and racist American society
Relief comes after a nap on Christmas day I woke up with so much joy and warmth in my heart I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain I’ve been climbing forever A mountain climb that’s had a most treacherous uphill and loaded with many obstacles I’ve stumbled and fallen from many times but the universe, God presented me this gift of contentment for my life the understanding that everything had to happen for this reason to live in my childhood dreams of having my own family who brings me love and purpose every day of my existence
it’s okay to make mistakes-it’s part of being human
I almost drowned in a whirlpool of shame today because I made a mistake because I’m an imperfect human but I breathe in deeply self compassion and grace and accept this is a small blunder in my life and it shouldn’t take up too much space in my mind And I needed to be a friend to myself Understand I won’t always be flawless- Afterall I’m only mortal
I probably just got done crying right before this pic was taken
In my car-I scream, sing, write, and cry I dissociate to my radio-blasting out Conan Gray I can be as crazy I as want to be- without the fear of being judged or talked about the seat is molded to my petite frame perfect for meditation or for allowing myself to fall into my insanity makes videos about how beautiful life is- or how I no longer want to participate in it my car used to feed into my deepest fears and insecurities but now I worship it if it wasn’t for this sacred space away from my office and home I don’t know how I would cope when the intensity of my thoughts knock on my mind’s door
our love dream has turned into a nightmare of stagnancy and routine I walk carefully on eggshells to not disturb your peace so you don’t leave- Is this how love is supposed to be? More questions than answers, more confusion than clarity More tears than laughter- I want to stay for the sake of our family but I’m starting to burn with resentment and anger
fragments of who I was weave in and out of my prose and poetry- I keep trying to honor the old me when she comes back with my insecurities and reminds me of how I constantly screw up anything resembling love I no longer shame her or call her the worst version of me- she was just trying to navigate life not understanding she was an undiagnosed hurricane of emotions- that couldn’t control or manage She didn’t go to therapy or know about DBT And she’s still full of grief for the life she couldn’t live- so she keeps on showing up trying to shake up my newfound confidence and power it’s her version of jealousy, and I walk with her for a while Console her, and let her know how because of her I did the work, and now she can feel happiness and joy through me I will forever be grateful to her and pay tribute to her when I tell her story
my transformation and rebirth meant giving voice to my shadow who’s vindictive, petty, and mean I’ve never really allowed her to breathe much less be seen and now she’s almost everywhere- taking space in uncomfortable spaces learning she’s not bad- she just needed attention and to feel valued I’ve finally accepted she’s an important part of me who needs to be seen
me and the evil Christmas Tree invading my writing space
As I sit here squished in my writing space because the damn Christmas tree is taking up the other side of the room, I still feel incredibly blessed and fortunate that I’m writing this post about how the 11th year of blogging was. To still be here telling my story though this platform with the most incredible followers is a true blessing. To the many people who have been supportive of me as I vomit out some of the cringiest and craziest shit, y’all are the real MVPs. I feel so encouraged and loved by every like or comment. I would say that it was a low key year because I didn’t experiment as much as I wanted to. What I did do is tell my story from January of 2022 through December of 2022 with my poetry along with my translated poems from my early writing days. I’ve translated a total of 215 pages of poetry from 1997 to 2004. It’s been a challenge for sure but it was important for me to take on this project because it allows me to reconnect with my first language in a creative way. Also, my main purpose for taking on this project is because I’d love for my parents and other Spanish speaking relatives in Peru to be able to read my poetry. I’d even started putting some of these poems on tik tok which has been somewhat of an interesting experiment considering I don’t know what I’m doing and still figuring out the best way to create content there. I guess one could say that I’m passionate about telling my story. Here’s my tiktok handle if y’all want to check it out: https://www.tiktok.com/@lagringachola81
Another new thing I did this year is start using my real name on this blog and across all of my social media. After my divorce, aka, my liberation day, I was finally able to let go of my pseudonym Eliza Dalton and use my real name Patty Tacuri. So, hi everyone, my name is Patty and I have issues. I love to use that opening line at open mic. Lol.
hi, it’s me Patty, your little piece of heaven or hell—lol
I’ve also been going to open mic at my local pub and it’s helped me connect with other poets which has helped me grow as a writer and poet. Being up there on that stage sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself has felt incredibly empowering and healing. I’m grateful to the Athens Word of Mouth community who’s been so open and receptive to whatever trauma laden or angry poem I decide to read that night.
me at open mic on December 6,2023 -photo from Athens Word of Mouth
As to what kind of blog content I have planned for 2024, I plan to leave the format as it is in telling my story of 2023 and including the translated pieces in between those poems. I hope that I can do more collaborations and review some more poetry books. I don’t have much more planned than that but who knows, sometimes my crazy mind comes up with the most off the wall ideas and an unexpected playlist or an essay about some kind of trauma happens. I know that in 2024, I want to be more open and vulnerable in telling my story and how my recovery journey has been going. We’ll see what happens. I can tell you that this blog is my happy place and something that keeps me going when my depression wants to get the better of me. Planning blog content this year has kept me grounded more times than I can count this year especially with some of the big emotions that have come up with the major life events I’ve had. It’s become part of my recovery process from mental illness and a safe space for me to be honest and vulnerable. Also, since I’m such a main character now, haha, I decided to give y’all a preview about what’s to come next year in telling my story. I’m calling it the twelve days of Patty starting on December 20th. Again, I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my crazy and sometimes cringe poetry. To my fellow bloggers, poets,and storytellers-my message for you is to keep going! Your art and stories are important!
We’ve lost our beginner’s luck and now see who we really are two incompatible souls too stubborn to be alone and let go of our made up illusion of love and between our uncomfortable silences, your distant demeanor, and my growing resentment it’s better to close our chapter of love before I start to really hate you let’s end this while we can still walk away as friends
I’m tired of same repetitive compliments You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying” you’re BEAUTIFUL but never in my life have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent, or have I been told that I inspire poetry? and old lonely me would entertain these flimsy lust or love possibilities kept my standards low to keep my bed warm and to escape my chronic emptiness but after almost a year of solitude my standards have been raised to the ceiling and now I’m protective of my energy anyone who wants to get near me will have to make a solid effort write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks
It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have done the work- I loved you more than enough to change, to accommodate to make compromises, to share my vulnerability with you but you weren’t ready to match my efforts and love only grows when two people are ready to evolve
