This was another poem I wrote about the first Andrew in early 2003. I think I was dreaming about him a lot and got inspired. I think at the time I kept returning to this past memory of love because I wanted to hold on to the hope that someone like the first Andrew was out there for me.
The memory of you visits me And a realization washes over me You were the light in the dark tunnel in my then hopeless life You were the song in my heart That I can’t stop seem to stop playing Now matter how loud the music Of my new life tries to drown you out
I wrote this in 2003 about the first Andrew. Yes, I have a hard time letting go of someone after a breakup especially if I really loved them. I think one of the reasons I thought of the first Andrew often was because he was one of the few guys in my romantic life who didn’t objectify me.
so true
You stay on my mind Even after a long long time You haunt me in my dreams I wake up in tears that form a stream Then you appear in my poetry Your memory lives inside of me And at last I ask myself why? I can’t let you go, my wonder guy
I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. I’m telling y’all when I get obsessed with someone I’m like the mild version of Joe Goldberg.
You had no clue How I felt about you Because you were too hard headed to put us through the relationship test because you wanted to be free Instead of wasting your time on me It’s really sad But I’ll have the last laugh Because one day you’ll realized I could’ve been your ultimate prize But now it’s too late for you have offended your fate
April means Autism Awareness and Acceptance month and I felt compelled to write about a realization I recently had about my oldest son, D who has autism. My realization was that he’s not a hero, he’s a person. I want to say that first and foremost, I got permission from him to write this post about him because at some point in the journey, it became his story to tell. I also got his permission because I’m trying to be better about boundaries when it comes to writing about the people in my life. I could actually write more about boundaries but that’s another blog post.
My oldest son was diagnosed at the age of 5 and I was 22. I’ve written about him in a previous post about how he was my hero because of all of the obstacles he’s conquered and how proud I am of him because of that. Here’s that blogpost:
One thing that I didn’t address in that post was how receiving this diagnosis meant me receiving a new identity, a mom with a child on the autism spectrum. Or we are often called autism warrior moms or whatever is trendy at the time. From the age of 22, this identity was deeply ingrained within me. I’ve lost count of how many articles or books I’ve read about autism. I’ve lost count of how many parent teacher conferences or IEP meetings I’ve attended having to fight or advocate for services for my son. I’ve lost count of how many therapists or counselors my son has had. You get my point. Being a mom to a child with autism is not easy. It’s hard, really hard. I’ve mentioned before how my child started to flourish between 3rd and 4th grade and he went on to be successful in his academic career throughout high school. Throughout all of this, I didn’t realize it but I put my child on a pedestal. I don’t know if it was the BPD or me being super excited about my son’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good and healthy thing to encourage my son and support him; but at some point idealizing him put an unhealthy amount of pressure that started to feel like a burden. I won’t say what happened next in this story but I will say that he’s now thriving as a regular 23 year old. I realized this week that at some point I stopped being an autism warrior mom. I think that I understood this sometime in 2016 after my son turned 18 but really accepted it this week. It’s weird when I used to start talking about myself, being a autism warrior mom would be one of the first things I would share and now I don’t feel the need to. When someone who knows me and my son mentions he’s quiet, I’m just like “well he’s just shy”. Like I first mentioned in this post; it’s just no longer my story to share. When I talk about my son, I just say “ he’s D, pretty awesome most of the time but kind of annoying at times.” I’ve also let go of this idealization of him I had. I still admire him and love him for who he is but he’s not a hero; he’s a person. He’s a person with his own set of issues and insecurities. He’s a person with goals and plans for the future. And talking to him, he wants to be seen that way. I also want to mention that I’m not speaking for all the moms with children with autism, I’m speaking just for myself. Getting here has been difficult but it’s been an important part of the process of me becoming not just a better mother, but a better person as well.
I wrote this in January of 2003 about Lucas. I was still obsessing about him.
Your love was a lost cause when it was her you chose but at night I still toss and turn wondering why it wasn’t me you yearned Was it the hurtful fact? You wanted to keep your life intact Or was it because I wasn’t good enough To make the ultimate sacrifice to leave your perfect and fake life
I wrote this in January of 2003 but I’m not sure who I wrote this about. Haha.
truth
I think you should know I want to take things slow I don’t want to rush And end up again a lush I want to know you Before kissing you I want us to be friends Before getting intense You’re going to have to understand Before becoming my man I want it to be true And not just lust
I wrote this 20 years ago on November 1st right before the great breakup of 2001. I wish I could say that I get over breakups quicker now but that would be a lie. After fights or breakups with partners, I seem to always go back to the girl I was in my teens and 20s. My brain is wired that way and I’ve accepted it. It’s something called age regression that shows up in people with Borderline Personality Disorder. Fear of abandonment is so severe that some of us will feel like we are literally dying after a breakup. Some of us will stop eating, some of us will sleep for days, some of will self harm or have suicidal ideation. With each breakup, I’ve noticed I’ve acquired healthier coping mechanisms. Nowadays, I’ve learned to listen more to what I need in order to heal than what doing what I used to do to escape the pain of heartbreak. My method now is cut off all contact with the ex, exercise, write a LOT and do loads of self care. I’m careful not to fall into any quick escapes from my feelings like going on tinder and trying to find someone new. Do I think I will ever get better at accepting a breakup like a normal person? I don’t know but I hope so.While I’m thankful for all of the inspiration and growth that comes from every breakup ;it’s also very overwhelming, exhausting and draining at times.
❤❤❤
You showed up unexpectedly in my life Like a pleasant surprise Calling and seeing me every day Making me dinner and leaving me roses on my dashboard I thought “finally, the one has come” Suddenly all of those nice things started becoming scarce The dinners, the roses, seeing me became non-existent Even talking to you on the phone has become too much of a bother of you I’m no fool, I know exactly where this doomed thing is headed Pretty soon you’ll give me some lame excuse As to why “we” can no longer be And my heart will shatter into pieces yet again There will be nothing left to say I’ll just realize once again You’re just like every other fool
I wrote this on January 1st, 2003 about this dude that I hooked up with a week prior. I was upset about John and of course wanted to escape from my feelings of rejection. So I started once again seeking validation from men and ended up hooking up with some guy from the bar.
So true
The night I met you I was drunk and blue Because of that impossible love Who said I wasn’t good enough So I decided to drink my pain away and then you came my way With your charming and smooth manner I should’ve known you were a player But you told me everything That I wanted to believe in How you had never met anyone like me And that you wanted us to be It sound almost too good to be true But i was feeling lonely too So i decided to give in to you Afterwards you promised to call But instead you went awol And many days later I sit here In a river of foolish tears Wondering why why why I always fall for the same false lines
I wrote this in April of 2003 about the first Andrew, the guy I fell in love when I was 16. I had gone to Hawaii in April and went to the beach we use to go to and I wrote this poem. Yes, I was still having nostalgia about a short relationship from 5 years ago. One of my BPD traits is being obsessed with some of my romantic partners after the relationship has ended after a long time.
Kailua Beach, Hawaii
So I take a walk on the beach Where we used to come And make promises of young love But like the waves of this tumultuous ocean Our lives took turbulent and separate turns and our beloved promises Got forgotten somewhere in between And for some reason I keep thinking A new tide will come in and I’ll turn around one day And you’ll take me in With a welcoming embrace And fate will remember us Once again
I wrote this in January of 2003. I’m honestly surprised that after so much disappointment in the dating world, I still had faith. I guess I was still a hopeless romantic at that point.
It’s so hard sometimes to be nice When you’ve cried so many times Over so many sorry ass guys When you are always done wrong You wonder what’s taking so long To find a warm hearted guy Who’ll give you the moon and the sky To find that special man that was written for you in the sand Sometimes you almost want to give up and just suck it up And say “I’m so through” With always being used But you have to have faith That one day you’ll find somebody great And all of these lonely nights Will finally have an end in sight
I wrote this in December of 2002. Towards the end of the year, I was depressed abotu dating and romance. I hated feeling like I was always just used for fun, objectified, and then discarded like trash. .
exactly
Now that I know That between us Can me nothing more Than a story of pure lust I feel so dumb And wonder once again If it’s possible to go numb From all of the jerks that are so damn lame You fucking jerks that don’t want to see past Me being a great piece of ass And I ask myself these questions What does it take for someone like me? To find someone that will make me happy To find someone who doesn’t use me just for fun But maybe it’s okay Maybe this is just my fate
I wrote this in 2002 about my former friend Brad. He was the type of “friend” that kept trying to sleep with him and I tried to have boundaries with him. I guess I should have seen the red flags then.
Growth begins by choosing yourself
My dear friend Why do you want to stay with me tonight? Is it because you’re lonely? Or is it because you’re sad? Or maybe you just crave the company of my warm body Sorry but I can’t allow it Because I’m selfish And want to keep memories of you pure and free of any sexual intimacy
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way thatthey almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow.
Often men want this girl…the ones that’s always down for a “good” timeBUT run away from this one….the other girl …the vulnerable one that has a realness hard to accept
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John. Estaba tan decepcionada de el. Fue difícil dejarlo ir.
Pero fue lindo
Yo tenía la esperanza Que tu eras el hombre Que yo tanto esperaba Pero después de ver la fea manera que me trataste Ahora me doy cuenta En realidad los que tu piensas Que no mas fui Cualquier otra para ti No fui algo especial Nunca te iba a importar Y ahora me quedo sola Y estas lagrimas que se convierten en un mar
Life on the BPD 