Soy la sangre de mis antepasados Colonizadores e indígenas y pues por estoy llena de una ambigüedad de moralidad Y pues por eso tengo la tez blanca con cabello negro y crespo
Soy la sangre de mis abuelos y abuelas y pues por eso estoy llena de frialdad y tambien tengo un calor único
Soy la sangre mis padres Y por eso soy débil y fuerte Y callada con mal genio
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 #27: A book you want to read
Quote from “The Body Keeps Score”
Will “The Body Keep Score” give me the answers I need as to why my body still feels past trauma and why I still have nightmares about people and places who has caused me harm? or how when a trauma anniversary comes up like the day I lost my baby or the day I lost my mind my body feels extra heavy and my fists are clenched all day Will I finally understand my body can still feel the pain of trauma months and even years later when something catastrophic happens to me?
Apparently, here is another poem from the great breakup of 2021 that never got posted. I’ve also included the revision of it after the poem.
Solitude be like
I deserve better than some low class player I deserve a man who knows how to love not some boy that’s not enough I deserve respect not to be treated like an object I deserve honesty not someone who lies to me I deserve to be able to trust Not some asshole who’s out for lust I deserve to be happy and to not drown in misery I deserve a real man and not an ass from jerk land
2001
Worthy of My Energy
fuck the toxic love story I keep on repeating I refuse to be disrespected and objectified by another man who lies to me about love because he’s lonely and wants me in his bed I’m no longer a temporary bandaid for another confused man who doesn’t know what he wants and discards of me when I’m stop being easy from now on any man who wants to be with me will have to prove himself to be worthy of my energy
This is my response to prompt #11: A goal you reached
I know my worth..now fuck off 🤣🤣🤣
Getting rid off my self imposed chains of insecurity and doubt I no longer give any fucks-I no longer hold back I announce my arrival when I drive, when I make love, and when I blog I’m liberated from the chaos I used to cause and have accepted sometimes an attention whore or an introvert and it’s okay to swing between both as long as I honor my truth and know my worth
This is my response to prompt #16: Your favorite household chore
it’s always your responsibility
Springtime is here, it’s my favorite time of the year I blast out music from Alexa and start de-cluttering Anais Nin books I’ll never read go into the donation box her life no longer inspires me Dresses and outfits I wore to my trauma are packed in a suitcase destined for Lima Dozens of therapy sheets are recycled I finally found calm and serenity Springtime is here and it’s to get rid of everything that no longer fits this new version of me
Patience eludes me I want to run and jump to the next chapter of my life the chapter where I’m the victor and not the victim the chapter where I’m a winner and not a failure but I need to appreciate the journey and accept that the bumps along the way Help me savor the next chapter full of victories and maybe even love Patience is a necessary virtue for the growth and progress necessary for the next chapter
The 10th year of blogging brought a lot of progress and growth in my life. As I write this, I’m excited to say that I’m in a really good place in my life. I’m proud that I’ve been consistent in posting content on almost a daily basis and have continued to challenge myself as a writer and content creator. When I have asked people what they think about the blog, they tell me “it’s honest” and “you really don’t hold back”. Some people don’t believe that everything I share is the truth because it’s so crazy. Well, sometimes my life does feel stranger than fiction. But, at least I’m never bored, right? One thing I started to do this year is translate all of my poetry whether the original poem was in Spanish or English. One of my favorite poems I translated is this one:
I’ve also revised a lot of my old poems. This year, I’ve also grown a lot as a writer. In a few months, I can finally say I’m a published author. I will share the links to those books as they come out.
I can also say that I’m a much different person than the person who wrote this blog post this time last year:
I’ve let go a lot of the anger, shame, and guilt I felt from my trauma. It was a combination of therapy, a new level of introspection, and having a new appreciation for my life. I think last year when I restarted this blog, I was alternating between a state of anger, grief, and mania. I wanted to be as honest as I could be and I gave no fucks about the opinions of others. Also, as I was revisiting some of my older poems, it brought up trauma and well the anger came out in full force . I was also trying to find who I was beneath all of these years of unprocessed trauma. Add all this to the fact that I changed to hormonal birth control that made me even more angry and it was like a hurricane of emotions I tried to surf but sometimes couldn’t control.
I’m still going to continue telling my story but I’m skipping to December of 2021. There was a lot of poetry and stories I wrote from 2018 to November of 2021 and some of it I have shared on this blog already. The time frame I’m skipping is also the period of time when my BPD was at its worst and to put it mildly, I was an emotional train wreck. Sharing that version of me doesn’t feel right to me at this time. Also, I think that from December of 2021 to now is when my real recovery from BPD started and I wrote poetry on an almost daily basis.It’s going to be a challenge deciding which poems are going to end up on this blog. As I go through this recovery journey from my BPD, I’m understanding that I can still process and honor my trauma without having to share it on this blog or social media.
The direction of the blog is also going to move towards collaborations with other content creators, writers, and guest bloggers. So if you have a story, opinion piece, an essay, or poem you want to share with the world, feel free to contact me. I’m open to most topics. Also, you can use a pseudonym or be completely anonymous. I invite you to share your passion or anger or whatever message you want to send out there to the world through my blog! The cringier and more emotional, the better. Lol. Below is link to my contact info:
Lastly, thank you to all of my followers and everyone who reads, takes the time to read, and like my brand of crazy. I’m humbled every time I get a comment or a like on one of my posts. The fact that this blog has grown exponentially from 17 followers in July of 2021. This means I’m doing something right. Thank you for allowing me to have this platform to be my most vulnerable, craziest, saltiest, and authentic self.
Excited about what the 11th year of Blogging will bring
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. Iguess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
December 9, 2010
He forgot our 8 year anniversary I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter. Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced. There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears Over something that would end soon. There was no use in feeling devastated over Something that never should have happened. Vows that should never have been taken. Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning. Empty words that were never believed in. 8 years of marriage; an institution we thought would bind us for eternal life. So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect wouldn’t break us apart. He forgot our 8 year anniversary Just like he forgot all of his promises to “Try harder” or “to change” So I wouldn’t leave. He forgot our 8 year anniversary. And it’s fine. You don’t celebrate something That is already dead.
This is my response to prompt #5: Something you know something a lot
where is my honorary degree tho?
Where is my honorary degree in my BPD recovery ? I’ve read more books than I’ve cared to- I’ve acknowledged more toxic patterns than I wanted to- And I’m almost an expert at DBT But I still have days when I think it’s all bullshit I still have times I miss the chaos in my life so I know I still have a long way to go in this journey and it’s needed to fulfill my potential I need to let go of anything that caused me harm and say goodbye to who I once was Thanks to this recovery journey I’m self aware, I’m full of self compassion, I’m going to become the best version of myself
Maybe I was too harsh with my words Frustrated with rejection and abandonment I was filled with anger and resentment that needed to bleed on paper Maybe I’ve been too much of a critic Cutting you down with petty words and insults Perhaps I was projecting my own insecurities Maybe I should have taken some of the blame of your unexpected departures I know I’m not an easy woman to be with often times I’m too emotional and needy And maybe, just maybe I forgive all of you and me We were all trying our best to love and be loved And sometimes even our best isn’t enough
En septiembre, empecé a entender que fuera de control mi comportamiento era a veces. Lo extraño de todo esto es que, si bien lógicamente entiendo cuán fuera de control está mi comportamiento a veces; no se siente como yo. Soy una persona que siempre ha tratado de tener control sobre todos los aspectos de mi vida. Por ejemplo, cuando me diagnosticaron por primera vez, era lo suficientemente ingenua como para pensar que de alguna manera podría “acelerar mi curación” de alguna manera. Rápidamente aprendí que así no es cómo funciona la curación o la terapia. No importaba lo rápido que leyera mi libro de trabajo de DBT o hiciera los ejercicios desde allí, cuántos poemas escribí sobre el dolor en un día, o cuántos mecanismos de afrontamiento saludables recogí en el camino; sanar y cambiar mi comportamiento iba a tomar tiempo y paciencia. No podría acelerar el proceso si realmente quisiera mejorar. Necesitaba aprender a sentarme con mi dolor, ira, manía, odio a mí misma y cualquier otra emoción incómoda y dolorosa y aprender una forma saludable de procesarlos y lidiar con ellos en lugar de ahuyentarlo con alcohol, sexo o compras compulsivas. Ha sido difícil de hacer, y he tropezado en el camino y he cometido muchos errores. Una cosa que aprendí este año es que cambiar patrones poco saludables en mi comportamiento tenía que ser el trabajo más arduo y difícil que he hecho. Por ejemplo, tal vez un día me siento gorda y fea, la versión antes del diagnóstico habría ido de compras en Amazon por un vestido bonito o se habría acercado a mi uno de los hombres en mi vida para su validación; la nueva y saludable versión de mí tuvo que preguntarse los porqués de por qué me siento gorda y fea y por qué desencadenó esta reacción en mí, ¿necesito escribir sobre ello, ¿qué puedo hacer para sentirme mejor que no implique comprar o la validación de los demás? Es mucho más difícil enfrentar mis inseguridades de frente que ahuyentarlas con una descarga de adrenalina rápida y temporal o una solución de serotonina.
A lo largo de todo esto, me ayudó tener un sistema de apoyo increíble que me dio lo que necesitaba emocionalmente para procesar, crecer y avanzar en mi viaje. Parte de ese sistema de apoyo era mi terapeuta que era amable, compasiva, y paciente conmigo. A veces era muy difícil lidiar con ella y quería romper con ella porque me presionaba mucho cuando se trataba de mi fobia a conducir. Recuerdo haber tenido un ataque de pánico frente a ella debido a una exposición al conducir, pero ella me calmó lo suficiente como para que pudiera hacerlo. Me puse paranoica después de pensar que me dejaría, pero no lo hizo. Ella se quedó conmigo hasta el final de nuestras sesiones de terapia en enero de este año. Las pocas veces que me había perdido una sesión, ella me llamaba para hablar conmigo por lo menos 10 minutos para asegurarse de que estaba bien. También fue respetuosa conmigo y con mis experiencias. He tenido terapeutas en el pasado que me hablaron mal y fueron condescendientes y ella no era una de ellas. La gente habla de encontrar “el indicado” en el “momento adecuado”; bueno, en mi caso, encontré al “terapeuta adecuado” en el “momento adecuado” de mi vida.
Desde septiembre a enero, hubo mucho progreso en mi viaje de curación y salud mental gracias a tener los recursos y herramientas adecuados gracias a mi terapeuta. Vencí una fobia a conducir (pero esa es una historia que contaré en profundidad más adelante) y estuve libre de ideas suicidas hasta mayo de este año. Lo que fue extraño para mí durante estos meses fue cómo estaba aprendiendo a vivir y disfrutar realmente de mi vida. Recuerdo que antes de mi diagnóstico, a veces me molestaba tener que pasar tiempo con mis hijos. Durante los meses de septiembre a diciembre, algo cambió en mí para tener esta nueva apreciación de la maternidad y pasar tiempo con mis hijos. Mi relación con mis tres hijos mejoró y me acerqué más a ellos. Siento que finalmente soy la madre que mis hijos merecen y eso es increíble para mí. Como también he mencionado, mis sesiones de terapia terminaron en enero y después de eso estuve solo con mi plan de mantenimiento asegurándose de no hacer nada para sabotear el progreso que había logrado.
No puedo vivir sin ti pero tengo que aprender a olvidarte Eres parte de mi pasado Aunque todavía deseo que tu amor fuera mío Sin ti estare bien Porque no importa lo debil que me siento Tengo que parar de pensar en ti Con estas pocas palabras A lo mejor ganaré la guerra De no amarte mas
Fui bruta y me queme No queria creer Que ibas a ser otra decepción Aunque había muchas señas Mi corazón se rehusó a resignarse No quería concebir en la noción que tu amor era una desilusión ahora me siento inutil a ver el mal que me hiciste se que estará mucho mejor sin ti Aunque sea imposible dejarte Es adios para siempre Al ver que tu amor fue otra mentira más