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.
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. Play time also means karaoke with my kids or discussing poetry with friends. I guess play time in my middle age means trying to find joy and happiness whenever and wherever I can.
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
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
I’m going to surrender myself to the source to find my meaning and purpose in the universe It doesn’t matter how many times I whine or bitch about how hard this recovery is- it’s going to be worth it- and I’m going to look back on this journey and will be glad I took my time and didn’t try to jump any steps to get to where I’m supposed to be
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
in my literary war chest lies a lifetime of love failures, insecurities about motherhood and confusion about my identity in my literary war chest lies unfiltered thoughts about grief for everything I never was and potential unfulfilled in my literary war chest lies the answers to how I survived Catastrophe after catastrophe- In my literary war chest lies proof of my strength and resilience in the worst of times
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
heroines go bravely up on stage and vomit out their feelings–pic is courtesy of my friend Amber Murphey
As I let go of my limiting beliefs, I grieve the woman I used to be so insecure and unsure of herself so hesitant to take control and power Overthinking and catastrophizing constantly it held me back from living the life of my dreams- Jealousy and envy filled me up Scrolling the professional and personal successes of others on social media Thinking, “that could have been me” and giving too much important to the opinions of others wondering constantly- “are they judging me?” It was an toxic story I told myself since the age of 16 and it continued on and on until one day in my middle age I exploded and decided to fight my inner critic and challenge everything I thought was wrong with me slowly I learned to turn my story around Slowly I went from victim to heroine
on the shitty days, get a baseball bat and take pics
not every day can be filled with peace, calm, joy or excitement Some days are absolutely shitty and depressing Some days it’s hard to get up in the morning without screaming fuck repeatedly on your way to work Some days are overwhelming to push through as hormones and emotions fuck you up Some days are for questions your life choices over and over again allowing doubt and insecurity to cloud you its accomplice self invalidation Some days are for getting up only to look forward to the end of it when you can sleep with the hope for a better day
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
Life on the BPD 