Poetry: Bad Place

I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed and felt empty. Chronic feelings of emptiness is a trait of living with BPD. It’s rough sometimes.

I’m at a very bad place
I struggle and struggle
to come out of this miserable and horrible place
But somehow feel confined
With a helluva strong glue
at the bottom of my pitiful feel
Stuck to the pit of here( my life)
I continue to
Dream and dream
The impossible dream
To someday become unstuck

Reflection: NapoWrimo Challenge

So last month was poetry month and there is an event called NapoWrimo where poets challenge themselves to write one poem every day for the month of April. Here is a link to information about it: 

https://www.napowrimo.net/

I found out about the event last year but didn’t do it because I was in the middle of moving and way too busy at the time. This year, I decided to give it a try because I was in a better mindset and I had time. Also, since last year, I’ve been writing poetry on an almost daily basis so I didn’t think it would be too hard. I also wanted to post a poem a day on social media but that didn’t happen. Life got crazy with kids and my two jobs so I took a social media break in early April to focus on real life. However, I still updated my blog and still wrote poetry. During the month of April, I’ve averaged writing  between 9 to 12 poems a day. I’ve used prompts from Instagram and my own prompts to write so much and here’s a few examples of them:

I made prompts from lyrics

One thing that really helped me with this challenge was to turn off my internal editor. What this means is anything goes when I write even if it sounds shitty or terrible at the time that I write it down. I tell myself, I can always go back and revise it later. I also gave myself permission to not judge anything I write down and to really have self compassion for myself no matter what comes out. This gave me absolute freedom to write. I’ve also been sharing on my blog a poem or two from this challenge on a daily basis. It was hard at first because I was sharing raw and unedited work that sometimes doesn’t make sense BUT I said fuck it. I’m not claiming to be a good poet or a good writer. I’m well aware of my flaws and limits when it comes to my writing and I’ll address them someday. With this challenge, I wanted to just focus on writing even if what came out was cringy or repetitive or super emotional. I also want to mention that while this writing exercise challenged my creativity; it also opened the door to process parts of unhealed trauma which led to more healing. I know what you’re all thinking, how much more healing does this bitch need to do? Trust me, I’ve asked myself the same thing every day. I could write a whole book on healing from past trauma but I won’t. I’ll leave that to the experts. I guess my main takeaway from NapoWrimo was that for me to do it and be successful at it, it was important to turn off judgment and my internal editor. Something I didn’t expect from this exercise was how therapeutic it ended up being for me. I also didn’t expect for so much of the poetry I posted to be well received by my followers. I’m honestly humbled and grateful every time I get a like or comment about anything I write because it’s hard to imagine sometimes that my brand of messy and crazy resonates with anyone.  My advice when it comes to doing this kind of exercise is the obvious: shut down your internal editor and turn off judgment. Also, don’t be afraid to just write even if it doesn’t make sense why you’re writing it or how it comes out on paper. There’s a purpose and reason behind your words even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time. Most importantly, write from the heart with loads of self compassion. While I shared what I wrote and really liked that aspect; I won’t tell you to do the same. It’s up to you if you want to write just for yourself (which is okay) or to share with the world (that’s okay too). Below are some of favorite poems from this writing challenge:

Poetry: Letter to My Former Lover

I wrote this in January of 2003 about Lucas. I was doing what I normally do, obsessing over past love because I was lonely. At least I wrote this poem instead of trying to track him down.

damn…a hard truth

My dear Luke
I Still miss you
Even after your unexpected departure
My heart feels a terrible torture
Of not having you by my side
I wonder if for me, you ever cried
Why couldn’t you stay?
Instead of leaving on that dreary day
Why did you have to go?
Nobody else could’ve loved you more
I know my letter may seem strange to you
But my heart finds it hard to replace you
I have tried so hard to move on
But it’s impossible to go on
I guess I should say goodbye
Before I start to cry
But before I do this
I gotta tell you my wish
that you find what you need
Even if it’s without me
And if you ever find yourself in love
Understand that you’re enough
and that you fight for it
Don’t run away from it
So now I say goodbye my friend
Maybe one day I’ll see you again

Poetry: Sadness

I wrote this in May of 2003 when I was depressed. At the time, I didn’t think about getting help. I also didn’t understand what was happening to me. No one knew because I had become a master as masking my emotions. Instead poetry was my therapy.

depression is rough

The sadness creeps up on me
like a wild animal
upon its prey
Slowly but surely
I become all too quickly
Miserable again
I ponder the question
Why, why, WHY?
I am young and healthy
Yet I begin to feel
like I’m slipping on thin ice
and what scares me the most
is
I DON”T KNOW WHY?

Poetry: Memory

This was another poem I wrote about the first Andrew in early 2003. I think I was dreaming about him a lot and got inspired. I think at the time I kept returning to this past memory of love because I wanted to hold on to the hope that someone like the first Andrew was out there for me.

The memory of you visits me
And a realization washes over me
You were the light in the dark tunnel
in my then hopeless life
You were the song in my heart
That I can’t stop seem to stop playing
Now matter how loud the music
Of my new life tries to drown you out

Poetry: Pathetic Games

I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. Maybe he tried to come back to be an FWB and I got mad and that’s what inspired this poem.

Never

Why do you continue to be
such an asshole to me?
With your pathetic games
you make yourself look lame
You expect me to sit around and wait for you
whenever it’s fucking convenient for you
but I guess this is my fault
for letting us almost fuck
So now I have to tell you something
I will no longer be your fucking fling
So start to forget
that we ever met
Go on your merry away
and stay away
for i am lot more
than an on call whore

Poetry: On My Mind

I wrote this in 2003 about the first Andrew. Yes, I have a hard time letting go of someone after a breakup especially if I really loved them. I think one of the reasons I thought of the first Andrew often was because he was one of the few guys in my romantic life who didn’t objectify me.

so true

You stay on my mind
Even after a long long time
You haunt me in my dreams
I wake up in tears that form a stream
Then you appear in my poetry
Your memory lives inside of me
And at last I ask myself why?
I can’t let you go, my wonder guy

Poetry: No Clue

I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. I’m telling y’all when I get obsessed with someone I’m like the mild version of Joe Goldberg.

You had no clue
How I felt about you
Because you were too hard headed
to put us through the relationship test
because you wanted to be free
Instead of wasting your time on me
It’s really sad
But I’ll have the last laugh
Because one day you’ll realized
I could’ve been your ultimate prize
But now it’s too late
for you have offended your fate

Reflection: My son isn’t a Hero, He’s a Person

April means Autism Awareness and Acceptance month and I felt compelled to write about a realization I recently had about my oldest son, D who has autism. My realization was that he’s not a hero, he’s a person. I want to say that first and foremost, I got permission from him to write this post about him because at some point in the journey, it became his story to tell. I also got his permission because I’m trying to be better about boundaries when it comes to writing about the people in my life. I could actually write more about boundaries but that’s another blog post.

My oldest son was diagnosed at the age of 5 and I was 22. I’ve written about him in a previous post about how he was my hero because of all of the obstacles he’s conquered and how proud I am of him because of that. Here’s that blogpost:

My Amazing Hero

One thing that I didn’t address in that post was how receiving this diagnosis meant me receiving a new identity, a mom with a child on the autism spectrum. Or we are often called autism warrior moms or whatever is trendy at the time. From the age of 22, this identity was deeply ingrained within me. I’ve lost count of how many articles or books I’ve read about autism. I’ve lost count of how many parent teacher conferences or IEP meetings I’ve attended having to fight or advocate for services for my son. I’ve lost count of how many therapists or counselors my son has had. You get my point. Being a mom to a child with autism is not easy. It’s hard, really hard. I’ve mentioned before how my child started to flourish between 3rd and 4th grade and he went on to be successful in his academic career throughout high school. Throughout all of this, I didn’t realize it but I put my child on a pedestal. I don’t know if it was the BPD or me being super excited about my son’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good and healthy thing to encourage my son and support him; but at some point idealizing him put an unhealthy amount of pressure that started to feel like a burden. I won’t say what happened next in this story but I will say that he’s now thriving as a regular 23 year old. I realized this week that at some point I stopped being an autism warrior mom. I think that I understood this sometime in 2016 after my son turned 18 but really accepted it this week. It’s weird when I used to start talking about myself, being a autism warrior mom would be one of the first things I would share and now I don’t feel the need to. When someone who knows me and my son mentions he’s quiet, I’m just like “well he’s just shy”. Like I first mentioned in this post; it’s just no longer my story to share. When I talk about my son, I just say “ he’s D, pretty awesome most of the time but kind of annoying at times.” I’ve also let go of this idealization of him I had. I still admire him and love him for who he is but he’s not a hero; he’s a person.
He’s a person with his own set of issues and insecurities. He’s a person with goals and plans for the future. And talking to him, he wants to be seen that way. I also want to mention that I’m not speaking for all the moms with children with autism, I’m speaking just for myself. Getting here has been difficult but it’s been an important part of the process of me becoming not just a better mother, but a better person as well.

me and my oldest son sometime in March