the story continue from 2007 on with this poem.

caught up in a cycle of nostalgia
old letters and photos and 90s music
trying to remember who I was
before I became someoneβs mom
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

hold onto hope, donβt let go
one day youβll laugh about this
one day youβll be okay
hold onto hope, donβt let go
Remember all of the times
youβve been strong
Remember all of the times
you put one foot in front of the other
hold onto hope, donβt let go
your story is still being written
youβre still in time to change
your narrative
So I wrote this essay a couple of years ago as I was reflecting about the end of my marriage:
As my eight year marriage comes to its inevitable end, Iβve been rewatching the series Mad Men. When I first watched the series, I admired Joan and Peggy for being strong female characters in the show but I always thought there was something about Betty Draper that I could relate to. Itβs strange to think about considering sheβs a white upper class sixties housewife in New York and Iβm a working class millennial immigrant Latina woman in Georgia. Itβs hard to grasp that there would be any similarities between but there are many indeed.

(Me and Hubs at my brotherβs wedding reception)
Betty feels trapped in her suburban idyllic existence and often times feels frustrated; Iβve also felt this way throughout the past fifteen years. Betty wonders if there is more to life than what she is living which is rearing children and being a good wife; Iβve constantly wondered the same thing except that I have the added burden of working.
Don, Bettyβs husband acts like she should be happy with her life and gets mad at her when she shows real emotion, kind of accuses her of being crazy and sends her to a psychiatrist that he secretly talks to about her sessions without her consent and knowledge. My husband never went so far but for most our relationship he did accuse me of over reacting and/or accuse me of being crazy if I got βemotionalβ about something and/or brought up needs that werenβt being met in our relationship. It always felt that I was expecting too much out of our relationship for wanting normal things in a relationship. My husband has also acted like I should settle for what the little he can give me in terms of companionship and be happy with that since he was. For a long time, I felt that maybe I could and should settle for this but settling made me miserable for several years.

Don also kind of stopped investing time and energy into his marriage. He took Betty for granted because they were married with two children and hid behind his work and his many dalliances. My husband was never one to make time for us or continue to woo me in any sense after we started living together. Instead, he hid behind the raising of our children and the fact that he was always tired. He could never spontaneously compliment me and I was always either too fat or almost too skinny for him. Betty overlooked Donβs lack of affection for several years in the same way I overlooked my husbandβs. I feel that this had to do with how women are conditioned to be polite and swallow their emotions because again–weβll be accused of being crazy and/or hysterical.

The beginning of the end of Betty and Donβs marriage started when Betty eventually gets fed up after having one of Donβs affairs rub in her face and throws Don out but later they get back together because she finds out sheβs pregnant with their third child. Don does try to be a somewhat better husband but eventually goes back to his philandering ways. There have been a few times throughout our relationship that I did try to break up with my husband but because he always apologized and said he would change, I always took him at his word and wanted to believe he would change. We even planned our third child and got married shortly after getting pregnant. I think I subconsciously did this because I thought a baby and a marriage would be the band aids that would fix βusβ.

Betty eventually gets tired of Donβs lack of effort and also his lies and eventually asks for a divorce, she tells him something like, βI donβt feel anything when I kiss youβ; it seems that this was when she knew that it was over for her and Don. For me, it took me a couple of years to be firm in my decision to divorce my husband. I think that I finally realized that there was no way I could continue the faΓ§ade of our marriage when I realized that I no longer cared that he didnβt notice me or felt anything remotely like romantic love when I kissed him. It took him a while to understand why I wanted a divorce since he was happy with βusβ and his main concerns were, βwhat about the taxes?β or βwhat about the kids?β. But like Don, he eventually agreed to it and said that he wouldnβt fight me about it. Itβs kind of eerie that women like myself can still relate to a sixties housewife when it comes to relationships, marriages, and the stigma of divorce. Iβm sure that people wonder why I would stay in a stagnant and awful relationship/marriage; thatβs simple; I loved my husband. I thought that loving him meant that I had to settle for a marriage devoid of any real affection. I thought that the love I felt for him would be enough to change him one day.



Iβm used to being a doormat
always allowing peopleβs energy to pollute
my life and take up my time
itβs the people pleaser in me who needed to fawn
be easy to get along with with,always avoiding conflict,
become the person they want me to be, always easy to digest and swallow
cutting away pieces of my authenticity-
never valuing myself or putting myself first
It was learned martyrdom from the women in my family
Internalized misogyny sold to me at young age
dressed up as selfless acts of love
but Iβm done sacrificing myself for others
Itβs time to unlearn this toxic way of loving and being
I refuse to passed this down to the next generation
of woman who come after me
Iβm here to take up space, roar like a lioness
and passed down a new legacy of self love
that took me 41 years to learn
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

I keep trying to manifest the one worthy of me
but Iβm starting to think he doesnβt exist
I swipe and swipe on the dating apps
but no one is of interest to me
and so I find solace in an unrequited love
that will never be more than friendship
itβs the best I can do to quell the romantic in me
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my body feels like a rundown shack
that’s crumbling down slowly
I canβt get up in the morning
without my knee or hip
bitching and moaning
without me groaning in pain
and mumbling to myself
βOmg, another stupid dayβ
and cursing my genetics
that make me watch everything
I eat
and again I wonder
am I paying a karmic debt
for my colonizer ancestors

He lies in the scent
Of our lovemaking
On love stained sheets
From βusβ
He lies with an
Angelic look on his face
With a recently delivered
Afterglow of new love
He lies in the freshly made world of intimacy
We have just created
He lies with eyes shut
And heavenly blood red lips
That call me baby
And I get ready to leave
With dreadful
Back to the reality
That doesnβt include
My Adonis
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

youβve change from spring to autumn within moments
never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve
never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism
Iβve made it as simple as possible for you
and nothing happens
and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background

By starlight
I saw the brightness of the moon
As he sat next to me
Talking to me about nothing
And yet everything
All at once
By starlight
I saw the shadow
Of his large hands
And felt the roughness
Of them as he
Clumsily held my hands
In his
By starlight
I saw the silhouette
Of his muscular legs
As he nervously
Inched himself towards me
And I felt his warmth
By starlight
I saw the smallest
Shimmering of the stars
And felt his tender kiss
On my neck as he pulled my hair
And I felt the newness of love
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my dreamy pisces energy has gotten me in more trouble
than it was worth
always viewing things in extremes
always making devils and angels out of people
who are really just mortals
my dreamy pisces energy is either my biggest curse
or my biggest blessing depending on the season,
the weather or the day
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

this modern world got my victorian and pure heart all fucked up
donβt know which way is up
donβt know which way is down
donβt know what is right
donβt know what is wrong
I want someoneβs hand to hold but they reach for my breast
I want innocent kisses on the cheek
but they reach for the heaven between my thighs

I wake up on a Sunday
Mad and angry
Youβre not here
In my arms
Because I was too much
I was too Insane
Too old
So I lay alone
In tears that wonβt fall
Numb
Wondering-
When will I ever
Find someone
To take away
The numbness
Of the experience
Of a life not loved
Of a face not kissed
Of an intimacy faked!
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we canβt forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder whatβs so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws