so I was named for my mom’s sister Patty. My aunt Patty was also the rebel and the baby in the family. My mom named me after her because I had another aunt who wanted me to have her name and my mom hated being pressured about it. So she was pregnant and feeling petty and named me after my aunt Patty. Growing up I was intimidated by her because she was the beauty bombshell and I was this awkward and shy kid growing up. Maybe she’s who I channeled when I pose in my pictures, lol. Anyways, like me she’s also divorced and has three boys of her own. We also both go by Patty rather than our formal name cause Idk Patricia feels like it belongs to some old stuffy Irish nun. Anyways, unlike me, my Aunt Patty is a fabulous cook while I can hardly make rice. Her ceviche will make you cry not only because it’s spicy but because it’s super delicious. As far as the etymology of the name which is such a boring thing to investigate, here’s a link to it:https://www.etymonline.com/word/Patricia
my aunt Patty in the late 80s vs middle age me in 2023
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.
I want to be part of someone’s french fry addiction
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. It’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.
me in car trying to 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.
it’s me and my racing thoughts against reality on some days
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
December 19th is National Emo Day and I wanted to honor it by sharing my spotify playlist with my favorite Emo Songs. I started listening to Emo music when my best friend introduced me to Taking Back Sunday and Brand New in college. I liked the music but didn’t get into it until the summer of 2021. I remember I was on my summer staycation from hell and had this feeling of numbness and shock in my body as I was doing my power walk and no song was hitting the spot for me to feel something. I was also having a lot of intrusive and negative thoughts at the time so I was trying to feel something, anything to get out of my head and stay safe. None of the music I was listening to was hitting the spot and then I decided to try my former angry playlist and Cut without the E came on and omg my anger came out in full force. It was like this weird gift from the universe because well, I finally felt something and it was powerful. It feels strange to say that rage felt empowering to me but it did. It knocked me out of my self pity and hardcore suicidal ideation into my anger phase of the grief I was in and it was what I needed at the time. It was the song I needed to get me through one of the hardest times in my life. Anyways, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve listened to the album, “Tell All Your Friends” by Taking Back Sunday that summer. Then I rediscovered Brand New, and discovered Fallout Boy, Panic!At the Disco and the music really resonated with me. I always joke around with my friends that “maybe I just like these white boys yelling angry lyrics in my ear” lmao. But seriously, there is something about that white boy angst and anger that really hits the spot when I’m in a bad mood. Well, rap music also hits the spot but that’s another blog post. Lol. This summer I was actually lucky enough to see Taking Back Sunday with Third Eye Blind in concert with the same best friend who introduced me to TBS. It’s weird to say but it was one of the most joyous experiences of my life. It was one of the times when I was thankful of the intensity of emotions that comes with my BPD because when I’m happy, oh boy, it’s almost overwhelming but in a good way.
me in July of this year at the Taking Back Sunday/Third Eye Blind Concertme with my best friend from college at the concert
Below is a video of me in the summer of 2021 and the summer of 2022. There is a clear difference in both versions of me. I remember being so reactive and full of rage when I recorded the video where I’m in my room and immediately posting it on tik tok. I was in my “fuck the world” stage of grief. The video at the concert is me in this state of complete happiness and joy. I remember thinking “wow, I’m just really happy at this moment listening to this song. There is no room for anger in my heart”. It’s dramatic to say that it was cathartic for me but it was. To diminish that moment to something less than that would be invalidating what I felt at that moment.
what a difference a year makes!
Helena -My Chemical Romance
Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have without Taking Her Clothes Off- Panic!At the Disco
Cut without the “E”-Taking Back Sunday
Motorcycle Drive By- Third Eye Blind
The Kill-Thirty Seconds to Mars
There’s No “I” in Team-Taking Back Sunday
Seventy Times 7-Brand New
Hands Down-Dashboard Confessional
Sugar We’re Going Down-Fall Out Boy
Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades-Brand New
I’m Not Okay (I Promise)-My Chemical Romance
Head Club- Taking Back Sunday
The Patron Saint of Liars- Fall Out Boy
The Only Difference Between Matrydom and Suicide is Fame- Panic!At the Disco
Screaming Infidelities-Dashboard Confessional
Great Romances of the 20th Century-Taking Back Sunday
A Decade Under the Influences-Taking Back Sunday
Tell that Mick He Just Made My List of Things to do Today- Fall Out Boy
Vindicated- Dashboard Confessional
Jude Law and A Semester Abroad- Brand New
Here is my spotify playlist of my favorite emo songs for your listening pleasure:
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
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’s been 4 years since I took an oath to become an American citizen. I took an oath specifically to Trump which makes me nauseous typing BUT I also took an oath because of Trump. Before making the decision to become an American citizen, I had never really cared about politics but that was until Trump got elected. If you were a POC or immigrant or both, you felt the shift in the racial tension in the U.S right before the election but especially after the election. Racists overtly made their ignorant beliefs known that immigrants were not welcomed in this country. DACA was in the process of being repealed. DACAmented kids who should have been protected were being deported and there was a rise in deportation for undocumented immigrants as well or well the media made it seem like that. I felt that as an immigrant with LPR (legal permanent resident) status, I could possibly be next. In February of 2016, I sent my paperwork to USCIS to solidify my relationship with America. One could say that for better or worse, I finally decided to make a commitment to this country. Here is my blog post about the process:
What has changed in the past 4 years since becoming an American and what does being American mean to me now?
Well, I’ve voted in 2 elections since I’ve become an American including the national election in 2020 (yay, no more Trump). In October of this year, I applied for my passport and have received it. Now, I can take a trip out of the country without any worries or concerns. While it is an immense privilege to be an American citizen since I now have a whole new world of opportunities opened up and I can travel anywhere; I feel that I haven’t really changed on the inside. I still see myself and identify as an immigrant but now I also call myself an American. But to be honest, my idea of being an American has changed. I used to think I needed a piece of paper to say “Oh, I’m American” but for better or worse, America is and has been ingrained in me since that hot September day in 1986 when I set my foot on American soil at the age of 5.
I was an American when every morning at school I would say the Pledge of Allegiance in my broken and terrible English at the age of 6 and 7.
me in 1987
I was an American when I went back to Peru at age 9 to get my resident alien status solidified with my family.
me at age 9 in Peru during my trip with my family to get our LPR status
I was an American when I met my childhood best friends in Hawaii at age 11.
me with one of my childhood best friends from Hawaii
I was an American when I had my babies at ages 17, 24, and 30.
me with my three kids right after their births
I was American when I started working for the government at the age of 18.
me at the age of 18 in 1999 working for the government
I was an American when I got my college degree in 2009 from the University of Georgia .
me in 2009 with my parents at my graduation from college
I was an American in 2016 and early 2017 when I attended protests and marches for immigrant and women’s rights.
me in January of 2017 at the Women’s March in Washington D.C
And I was an American when people told me, “my english is good for being a Mexican” or I’ve been discriminated against or oppressed in this country by the people that don’t want “my kind” here.
I used to believe that I didn’t belong here because of the racism, prejudice, and ignorance I’ve encountered but that’s no longer the case. This year, I finally let go of those beliefs because I’ve embraced that I am America and America is me. My life may have been harder in many aspects because I wasn’t the average “American born” citizen but I will tell you that I wouldn’t trade my experience as an American to be average. I I feel that working harder than the “average American” for my success has made me appreciate my success so much more and for that I am thankful. My parents had no idea of the many hardships they would endure making the decision to immigrate to this country but I am glad they made that journey. It’s taken me 35 years to get here but today I can honestly say that I’m proud to be an American.
me in November of 2021 telling my crazy story about being an essential worker
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self- And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity and vulnerability I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless, Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
this is how healing looks like-me and my notebook against the world
healing is chaos and calm intertwined with diving timing because after almost falling of the cliff of insanity and wanting to end it all a light flickered inside of me to push through- that light was sometimes my anger, therapy, poetry or my friends encouraging me to to move forward to continue on my path of self discovery and a year later- I no longer care about why someone’s love wavered or why someone treated me like shit all i care about is vibrating to the version of my highest and healthiest self I care about intentionally setting fire to the path of personal and professional success
my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry another mean and petty poem appears it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments I’m more complicated than that I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos that is her life
saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over she showed me love and compassion when everyone else shunned me she accepted me for who I was and encouraged me to follow the path of success she saw the hidden potential in me when other teachers saw laziness she was a prayer from God sent to me to remind me my mistakes don’t define me and that I was still worthy of the love and goodness in the world
The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me- I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry but if I want to reach integration I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me and honor them with powerful words of praise because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am
Life on the BPD 