my favorite animal is a cat. I love them because they’re confident AF and mysterious. they’re also gorgeous creatures. I’ve also had cats as pets in childhood and for a short while a few years ago (that turned out to be a disaster-that’s another blog post-lol). Anyways, one of my most favorite cats was Mr.Jingles, this huge gray and fluffy cat one of the most recent exes had. For the back story, me and this ex were super chaotic and toxic. I think I went there for two reasons, one was to spend time with his cat and the other, well-that’s a story for another time. Anyways, Mr. Jingles had a big personality and always greeted me when I went over there. Also, my ex had him spoiled, and so Mr. Jingles slept in the bed with us also. He was so playful all of the time. He was a big boi, but that didn’t stop him from climbing everywhere. He could also be very sweet at times. I’ve recently been in touch with this ex(another long story, we’re friends now), and he told me that Mr. Jingles met his untimely demise when some dogs got to it. My heart broke in half because I was so fond of this cat. I hope he’s somewhere in cat heaven with all the good ones, including my cats, fluffy and slinky malinky.
poetry: same,kid,same
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

They laid him on my breast and told me,
βMeet your baby boyβ and I was in shock
the alien on top of me is mine?
this wasnβt supposed to be part of my adolescence
I’m only seventeen and some days I barely remember
to brush my teeth
and now I have this great responsibility
and his beady and angry eyes questions
as to why his comfort was disturb-he already hates the world
and I think , same, kid, same
poetry: contacts and glasses
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

I go between contacts and glasses to fit my different personas-
in my contacts Iβm a pretty woman with makeup and a dress
I become the kind of woman men are nervous to be around
or get intimidated by
In glasses I donβt care to capture the male gaze or even mine
itβs when I work that second job or Iβm at home
itβs when I allow myself to just exist
not caring about the pressure to be attractive
or allow my social conditioning to take over
and tell me since Iβm this crazy, I need to be pretty, sexy, charming
to validate my existence
Lately I prefer my glasses, lately I want the freedom to just be
poetry: music and lyrics
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

music and lyrics have always given me a sense of home-
itβs how Iβve grown and evolved
Itβs how I learned to express my emotions
when I couldnβt make sense of anything
it fills my soul with love and creativity
it makes me feel a sense of belonging in this world
that looks down on dark and tortured souls
it eases off my loneliness
that sometimes makes me crumble
and leaves me in shambles
poetry: voodoo doll
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

does someone have a voodoo doll of me and stuck pins inside my head-
inside my heart-because lately Iβm 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 thatβs currently residing me
poetry: jealousy
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

Jealousy is a normal emotion of the human condition
and shame shouldnβt 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 itβs me projecting an insecurity
or sometimes itβs a legit feeling
And thatβs okay too-
and jealousy doesnβt have to destroy anything
as long as I know how to acknowledge it
and donβt allow it to consume me
Dandee

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, itβs 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 thatβs the understatement of the year. Hereβs a poem I wrote about her:
poetry: target
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 Iβve 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, βdejalo, es chiquitoβ which basically translates to βallow him to do whatever because heβs smallβ. 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 wouldnβt give him back. My aunt didnβt 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 wouldnβt say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldnβt 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 Cβs 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 werenβt 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 wasnβt 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 didnβt want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, Iβm reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that Iβve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, βDandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spiritβ 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.

poetry: national championship
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

we won the national championship and everyone is so happy
and I feel nothing
I graduated from UGA but never felt included
so while Iβve 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
abuela is special

my granddaughters will love me even as they rolls their eyes at me-
as I try to awkwardly relate to their slang and taste in music-
theyβll be like βabue-thatβs so specialβ
and while Iβll know what theyβre trying to say
Iβll annoy them even more out of spite or to make them laugh
my granddaughters will appreciate that Iβm not like other grandmas
I wrote the poem above a year ago thinking about what kind of grandmother I’d be. One thing is for sure, I won’t be like my mom who goes above and beyond her role of mamacita and is the most wonderful grandmother to mine and my siblings kids. I’ll be different but in a fun way. If I’m blessed/cursed to live a very long life (which could happen because my grandparents on my maternal side have lived past their 90s), I want to be like my grandparents who had a very good quality of life until the end. I want to be as active as possible in my old age.

I also envision myself as a storyteller with my granddaughters gathered around me as I tell them about the olden days before the internet or when we had to take our pictures to the photo place to get them developed. I want to be as candid as possible with them about my misadventures in life and love so maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes and learn to have grace with themselves when they make mistakes. I want to be a safe space for my granddaughters when they have problems. I also want to be like my great-great-grandmother Mercedes who still smiled for the camera in her old age while holding her beer in her hand.

It would also be kind of ironic if I did live to my 90s and beyond, considering how I’ve been romanticizing death since I was 15. However, at the end of the day, I do love being alive on most days and do try my best to be as healthy as possible to live a long live to annoy my loved ones, especially my granddaughters. I’m kind of excited to see what technological advances I’ll live to see. Like, will AI become part of our everyday existence? I mean, it already is part of mine with Alexa waking me up every day. Will men, gasp, finally do their part and take birth control pills instead of leaving it up to women to take responsibility? Will there be a magic pill for PMDD for future generations of women who can take it so they don’t go to crazy town every month? Will the internet read your algorithms so hardcore they erase any vestiges of anyone you have a falling out with from your phone/social media? I’m not sure if any of these questions will be answered, but it would be great if some of them were.

Potato
In an ideal and magical universe, the one thing I would do differently if I had magical powers is turn into a potato. A potato that becomes a beautiful and most delicious plate of french fries bringing happiness and joy to some random person when they taste me. To become a potato would mean I wouldn’t have to be human and constantly exist which gets extremely exhausting and annoying at times. To become a potato means that for most of my life I would be surrounded by other potatoes, just chilling with absolutely no drama. It would be a swell life, I think.

However, I don’t live in an ideal and magical universe so I guess what I could do differently is to become more organized in my life. I have struggled with the curse of disorganized thoughts and a disorganized life since I can remember. I’ve tried and tried and have somewhat succeeded in some areas of my life in becoming more organized. For example, I have a routine that I try my best not to interrupt. It’s important to maintain this routine so I remain semblance of sanity for the most part. It’s hard because I’m pretty sure I have undiagnosed ADHD that’s followed me since I was a kid. That’s also why I struggled with disorganized thoughts which the silver lining in is that I get very creative when I’m in the thick of it. However, it’s also fucked with my sleep schedule which means I rely on sleepytime tea and meds to be able to go to sleep. Having disorganized thoughts also means I get overwhelmed and overstimulated at times in my environment if it’s chaotic. It turns my cortisol levels all the way up and I have to find a way to cope ASAP.βIt’s my flight or fight response turned on and I usually choose flight. Like for example, during my PMDD period (worst time when I have disorganized thoughts), I’m moody AF and if I get triggered by someone or something, while I may want to hurl insults or punch that person, most of the time I pause, assess, and go for a drive or a walk. Most of the time it’s a drive though because that seems to be the faster way I calm down.

This post is a perfect example of my struggle with organization. I went from talking about wanting to be a potato to talking about disorganization to my PMDD. This fucking struggle is too real. Anyways, to answer this question, I could make more lists of shit I need to get done, schedule my breakdowns more often when I can (haha), make more time to meditate and relax (Idk how this will happened, I can’t even remember ever taking a nap in Kindergarten). It’s starting to feel like a hopeless situation but Idk maybe I’ll find the answer in a book. Who knows? Crazier things have happened. Also, I’m open to suggestions.

poetry: yesterday
I wrote this in January of 2023.

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
Glimpse of me (inspired by Joji’s Glimpse of Us)

Glimpse of me (inspired by Joji)
I catch a glimpse of the different versions of me
Iβve been in photographs, old poetry, past journal entries
dresses too big for me, mad women I was obsessed with
and Iβm in awe of how I was able to survive despite all of the pain felt-
Iβm grateful for all of the love Iβve given and made-
and all of the love given to the different versions of me
Iβm glad for all of the versions of myself Iβve been in this lifetime
Whoβve led me to the me I am today
A woman in control of her thoughts, and emotions
A woman ready to let go of her past
A woman excited to embark on new adventures in love and life-
A woman finally living life on her own terms without regrets and lies-
The woman Iβm becoming makes me tremble with enthusiasm
of whatβs to come now that Iβve let go of everything
thatβs been holding me back
11/20/22
poetry: i’m sorry, lo siento
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

to little me, Iβm sorry, lo siento
Iβm 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 wasnβt acknowledged
or that your feelings were invalidated
by those who promised to love and protect you
Iβm sorry , lo siento
Iβm sorry, lo siento
and while I know my words are insufficient to lessen
the pain and trauma you experienced
Iβm here to acknowledge it and make sure you can heal from it
my higher education
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.

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/βThere’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 .

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.
playtime in my middle age

so as I thought about my response for this prompt, I wondered what does constitute as “playtime” in your middle age? For me, it’s every time I’m creative so that means writing or creating content for my blog and social media. Playtime also means finding moments of joy during the day whenever I can which is tough to do working two jobs. I do this by taking my daily coffee breaks at my day job while blasting my music in my ear buds or turning my car radio all the way up while I drive and having my own concert where I sing and dance in my seat. I’m sure I look crazy to other drivers but I don’t care. Lol. Playtime also means joking around with my coworkers and friends about the silliest or stupidest things that occur to me and either I make them cringe or make them laugh or sometimes both.βPlay time also means karaoke with my kids or discussing poetry with friends. I guess play time in my middle age means tryingβto find joy and happiness whenever and wherever I can.
