the labyrinth of love made me lose who I was for a while I used to base my sense of self on who loved me or who didn’t- and thought I need a lover to feel whole after every breakup, I had a breakdown and it felt like an eternal labyrinth of despair I couldn’t find my way out of it was like the most complicated of Borges stories caught in a complex maze of misunderstanding and intricacies of my own mind and for a while it felt like I’d never get out- until faith shone a light on me and it drove me out of the labyrinth of despair and into a clear path of compassion and self love
pale petals fall on windy autumn day and brush against my skin it feels like a soft touch from my lover’s hand and I feel loved by nature I feel affection from the source it gives me butterflies to think of how much I’m loved and cared for by God
the bomb of my insanity explodes and I try my best to do damage control tell my paranoid inner child not everyone’s out to get me but it’s too late and I fall once again under the spell of depression I try every single coping mechanism and it’s futile I just need to sit and acknowledge my inner critic and the dark and intrusive thoughts that come up Understand and accept that shit is temporary there will be better times ahead for now it’s just annoying
love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos right now I stand alone, get myself together before trying to fall into the magic of love again
the sunset at el parque del amor makes me believe in love again it makes me believe I won’t always be holding on so tightly to my solitude it makes me believe that I could have another accomplice to share my life with
if self sabotage was an olympic sport, I’d win the gold medal so many times I’d been close to reaching my potential only to screw it up later maybe it’s the insecure and anxious little girl who still lives within me who’s scared of conquering fears and chasing her dreams I need to figure out a way to quell her to give her closure and peace so she’ll let me be live in peace and stop sabotaging everything
Give me a man who will buy me everything and I will accommodate to him- Because unlike JLo my love costs all the pretty things dresses, jewelry, vacations in the caribbean give it all to me and you can be my king because if I’m going to be treated like shit by a man in a relationship, at least let it be on a cruise ship
I’m going to paint the sky with all of the colors of your love red, green, yellow, dark gray, midnight blue, and black every single color you’ve brought to my life it’s will be the most epic mural who beauty will rival the taj mahal a mural decided to my own miracle of your love
One day I’ll find the one who’ll break down the fortress that guards my vulnerability He’ll know how to handle me He’ll tell me “I’m impossible when I’m too much” but will show his love and loyalty he’ll annoy me because he’s human but our joy will outweigh our conflict and we’ll stress each other out but never lose sight of the epic love we feel for one another
wordpress prompt:If you won two free plane tickets, where would you go?
maybe I’ll take him, Idk
I want someone to take to oxapampa so I can show him where part of my story started so he can watch the sun rise and the sun set on my family’s farmland so I can experience joy through his eyes for the first time as he observes the beauty of the land So I can watch his face when he takes a sip for the first time of the world class beer 7 vidas so we can take tourist pics at the plaza and the church were my dad was baptized in dance the night and awkwardly laugh at the cultural appropriation of the Cheyenne Club so right after we end up at the Hakuna Matata karaoke bar when I sing “Lover” to him off key as he sits in his chair and cringes in embarrassment and tells me I’m crazy and everyone stares at us so we could have breakfast with my tia with the eggs, chorizo, coffee, and milk coming from the family farm as we all awkwardly make small talk about our plans for the day I want someone to take to oxapampa to hug trees, go on hikes in the jungle, and make love in some little cabin but I’ll have to wait and wait until the universe sends someone worthy of going the magical land of oxapampa
maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there in another state, another country who needs a roadmap, Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom in navigating a hard situation they never thought they had to face maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple out there who’s struggling can find something useful in my story, in my prose, and my poetry to get through their own hardship through the worst of it and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together in intimacy and find their own happy ending
the intruder within me won’t quit she remembers every wrong done to her and every mistake she’s made and starts the game of how much self loathing i can take And I used to try to quell her with affirmations but lately I tell her-tell me more- And I listen and write out her words about every insecurity that still plagues me and she stops because it’s no longer fun so she leaves once she’s acknowledged and once again I return to my inner peace
When I saw this prompt from wordpress, I was going to write maybe a poem about how blogging has become an outlet for my storytelling and healing but the day had other plans for me. Today, I woke up exhausted as hell because I haven’t had a day off in three weeks and my emotional bandwidth is extended to the point it’s about to break or snap with my upcoming divorce hearing and every fucking feeling is just coming up. Still, I decided to go to work this morning even though I didn’t want to. I was trying to fake being okay but I just couldn’t. I felt this ball of rage inside of me seethe and persist and I started crying. I went to the bathroom and tried to compose myself and called a friend and she calmed me down to the point I didn’t feel like rage quitting my job anymore. And I got back to work, tried to mask and then the rubberband of my emotional bandwidth broke and I started dissociating. It felt like what I was doing and living wasn’t real. I told my boss and I left work early. As soon as I got into my car and started it, I felt this wave of relief. As soon as I got home, I called my friend who was incredibly supportive and felt better. It’s really hard to write to this blogpost and be so candid and vulnerable in trying to explain the challenges I face with BPD. Throughout the past two years, I’ve been able to convey how living with mental illness is like through poetry, essays, etc. It’s not easy but something in me thinks it’s important to share my story. With therapy and hard work, I’m able to manage my symptoms 80 to 90 percent of the time but today was one of those days when this episode of dissociation came up and it was scary as hell. The best way to describe it is this “inside me” watching me go through the motions of life faking it while “inside me” is in flight or fight mode. Normally, I just fight it until I feel grounded again with one of my coping mechanisms. That could be writing in my journal, calling a friend, exercising, or any one of my DBT skills. This time, my dissociation felt out of control and impossible to manage because I started to question whether or not what I was living was real or not. It was me asking myself, “is this reality or a dream?” . I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I didn’t saw this episode coming. My mood swings have been between extreme highs and extreme lows. I describe it as between a euphoric “Pollyanna” I have the best life viewpoint on one day to “Debbie Downer” Everything sucks, I just need to get through the day viewpoint the next day.
these must be the new dark age of my life where I can’t find my life’s purpose, where I cry because I don’t think I’ll ever be loved where the sleeping pills in my drawers are tempting me to end my misery
It could be worse they say because I could be dead my children left without a mother my parents left without a daughter My friends and coworkers left without entertainment of my emotional and dramatic hijinks And I left without fulfilling my potential or life purpose It could be worse they say because with me gone Who else will give you my special brand of crazy?
Life on the BPD 