poetry: the costs of integration

I wrote this poem in November of 2023.

the costs were worth it for the peace I have now

I had to give up a lot of fun things in my life
to get to integration
an alcohol dependency, a shopping addiction,
Relationships and sex-
and the last thing was energy drinks
This was all for me to become the mom my kids
always deserved
it was needed for me to meet my higher self
who makes decisions with compassion and love
Instead of out of ego
It was needed for me to start living
in the most authentic way possible
and while I could dwell on all
of the fun things I lost
I now look at it as a blessing needed for clarity
and to make space for this new version of me
who no longer hides her jagged edges
for the comfort of others
Who loves who she is and no longer
Wants to be anyone else
Who finds peace in solitude
and is no longer scared of it
my integration of self costs me many things
I was addicted to
but it was worth it for the woman I am today
for the beautiful life I’m currently living

poetry: release

I wrote this poem in November of 2020.

me in another lifetime

Releasing my fears
of the unknowns
and the what ifs
to fulfill my life’s purpose
is a challenging

I refuse to lie down
in a defeatist mode
in comfortable mediocrity
stagnant in a suburban reality

So I release my fears
to truly reach my potential
to prove to others
they were wrong
but mostly to prove
to myself that I was wrong
and I’m worthy
and I’m enough

Poetry: Bruh, I did warn you

I wrote this poem in November of 2023.

fr fr

my exes are scared of me for good reason
too many times I’ve used their words,
even their emails as ammunition
in expressing myself in poetry
sometimes, it was for revenge
Many times, it was me just trying to heal
but I did warn most of them
–I’m a writer–and I’m crazy
they probably thought
β€œOh how cute, a girl who writes a few verses”
they never understood how my wrath
showed up in my writing
until they leave and finally understand
they should have heeded my warning

poetry: nothing taste as good as skinny feels-Kate Moss

I wrote this poem in November of 2023.

at least I can now wear corsets and look good in them

I’ve starved myself to make my mom, lovers, and even myself
so they’ll love and accept me
I’d go on extreme diets, skip meals,
over exercise until throwing up
and getting excited when the number on the scale
went down
and hating myself when it went up
never quite understanding there’s much more to me
than some arbitrary and unrealistic standard of beauty
I’ll never be able to attain
there’s much more to me than how I fill out a tight dress
and yet, I still check the scale every once in a while
to measure my worth

poetry: chains

I wrote this poem in November of 2023.

I always manage to find a way to survive

The invisible chains of my mental illness try to take away my joy
and enthusiasm but I shake off my chains
and live as fully as I can
Despite my anxiety,
Despite my depression,
Despite my BPD trying to grab hold of me
I no longer allow my inner demons rob me
of the goodness that universe has to offer me

poetry: me and my trauma

I wrote this poem in November of 2023.

the damn trauma

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,
β€œit’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 healing and recovery by sharing our story

poetry: it ends with me

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

me at night of spite in October of 2023

I come from a line of women who were never afforded
the privilege of telling their stories and speaking out their truths
they simply accommodated and according to the expectations
from their parents and husbands
they had no choice but to shut up, obey, breed, and stay
like docile animals whose spirits are beaten out of them
and with each poem, each blog post, each social media post
I feel a part of them heal because I will be the last in my lineage
to have followed suit and the first one to break out of the toxic narrative
where women should only be seen and not heard
where women should be limited by their gender
where women are only good for one thing
I’m the red herring, the hair out of place,
la malcriada-
who’ll scream as much and as loud as I have to
to tell mine and their stories
even as my family cringes
and accuses me of being dramatic and crazy
because to not do so would be a disservice to them,
to me, and to future generations

poetry: nonsense

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

me planning blog content in October

honest nonsense is spilled across my blog
honoring who I have been, am, and will be
a former chaotic mess who’s tried her best
to turn her victim story into a narrative
of empowerment owning everything
that’s happened to me,
not caring what anyone else thinks-
if some people are offended,
they should have acted better

poetry: too much time

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

I choose to change the narrative

I wasted too much time in comparing myself to other women
and blaming them when my exes chose them
and allowed my jealousy and rage to speak for me
Never understanding how they were all just innocent bystanders
in my complicated and chaotic love stories
I’m sorry, I didn’t know any better
and I wasn’t mature enough to take accountability
and it was easier to use y’all as scapegoats
when I lost war after  war of love-
It was easier to say you won
because I wasn’t educated and white like you
In reality, I should’ve used my ammunition
only towards my exes
It was never y’alls fight to be a part of
even if some of them used y’all as an excuse
for their departure
I’m so sorry, anna, david’s ex-wife,
my ex metamours,
maybe my message will come to you in a dream
or you’ll see this poem in my blog one day
and be able to forgive me

poetry: ivory tower problems

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

a collage of me in my kroger garb

I’m starting to radically accept someone like me
will always be judged differently from my peers
it doesn’t matter how many degrees I have-
how much I code switch to fit in-
it will never be enough to be truly accepted
so I’ll smile and nod while they complain
about ivory tower problems
while I roll my eyes inside my mind-
man, I really wish I had your problems Susan
but I got to go to my second job now

poetry: keep driving

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

driving anxiety be dammed

every time I drive somewhere new I’m beyond terrified
doubts about driving skills cloud me and I want to break down
and panic in the middle of traffic
but I push through my fears, my insecurities, and keep driving
I can’t be weighed down by who I used to be
A woman reliant on the transportation of others
A woman fearful of living a full life
that is my old story
and it’s not that I hate that version of myself
I just refused to hold myself hostage by my past
which tries to hold me back from
being the independent woman I was always meant to be

poetry: distress

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

selfie while I broke down on 9/30/23

I was in distress the other night
but I wasn’t the damsel who needed to be saved
I was a friend who needed a friend
and maybe I was expecting too much
but you could have done better
than some two word awkward text
as I was breaking down in the diner

poetry: I’ll take an order of fries with my mental breakdown

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

the fries I cried over on the night of 9/30/23

I cry over my fries while I write nonsense
because nothing makes sense
I’ve worked so hard to change my narrative
of mental illness
so hard to create a new story of strength
and resilience where I’m the heroine
but tragically I’m a falling victim again
to depression, anxiety, BPD, and whatever
the fuck else it is wrong with me
and I wish to make myself small enough
to disappear into a mist of nothingness
because lately it hurts too much to exists

poetry: too busy for me

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

me on the September 30th

I sought solace in friends last night
and everyone was busy or asleep
so I cried hysterically in the middle
of the street, and then in the diner
over my fries, and finally in my uber ride
Strangers kept asking me if I was okay
one even offered me a ride
even in my worst moments of crises,
I always find a way to survive
even when I’m in the thick fog
of a mental breakdown
I know now how to take care
of myself and keep myself safe
maybe that was the lesson the universe
sent last night
even in my most hopeless of times
I will always find a way to survive
and eventually be okay

poetry: what if

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

what if it all works out in the end?

my heart is full of what ifs? What if it works out?
What if I’m not as dumb as I think I am?
What If I stop listening to the voices in my head
that taunt me-telling me I’m not good enough?
What if I’m brave enough today
and chase my dreams despite my haters
and my inner critic?