This was my response to prompt #22: Something all people should know
Stop shaming your shadow self
trying to constantly shut it down
telling yourself it’s not a part of you
it’s been there since you were a child
acknowledge it, walk with it
Let it be seen, let it be heard
even if that sometimes looks crazy or weird
Let that bitch or asshole out
Otherwise it will consume you
I wrote this in December of 2021 when I got on a new form of hormonal birth control. It’s an understatement to say that it amped up the intensity of my emotions.
I’ve bled for more than 40 days and 40 nights
but my doctor says I need to grin and bear it
My hormones are in constant flux
I want to die, I want to scream
Is God punishing me for my past sins?
My mood swings are uncontrollable
No matter what I do, I can’t find the calm
Anger, rage, sadness, and despair
are my emotional staples
And within a span of 3 weeks
I write poetry at 3am, crash my car,
and breakup with my friend
When will this madness end?
My doctor says give it 6 more weeks
but my mind and body are losing it
over this 2 inch form of torture
Will the next 6 weeks get calmer?
or will I go down in infamy?
Here is the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: How I Wish
Si los deseos si cumplierian
Hubiese deseado que fueras diferente
Alguien de confianza, alguien leal
Alguien que tenía ojos solo para mi
En cambio eras otro payaso
con su corona de mentiras
que mandó espinas a mi corazón
y me destruyó
Easy E,Tupac, and Dr.Dre calmed me down
when I was lost amidst a nervous breakdown
I couldn’t remember who the fuck I was
or where I came from
then I blasted some Gangsta Rap in my ear
and remembered who the fuck I was
I’m a Queen from the land of the Incas
raised in West L.A and Paradise
I’m made to withstand earthquakes and hurricanes
even when they come disguised as humans
that’s when I turned my grief into anger and rage
and knew I wouldn’t be “just okay”
I would make this my greatest comeback in my life story
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2021.
La navidad se escucha con los parchis
cantando navidad, navidad
navidad se ve como el árbol lleno de muchos adornos
coleccionados hace más de 30 años
el nacimiento cusqueño con las estatuas
de la virgen, josé y el bebe jesús cristo
que tienen más de 33 años
navidad se saborea con un polla peruano sazonado
con especies únicas
con un chocolate y panettone siempre en la mesa
navidad se siente con la felicidad pasando tiempo
con tus seres más queridos
que te llenan con amor y calor familiar
la navidad se huele en el perfume imari de Mami
La navidad siempre será una de las tradiciones
más bonitas e amorosas en mi familia
This was my response to prompt #30: The time of day you prefer
Sunday mornings make me jump out of bed
ready to seize the fuck out of the day
First my overpriced coffee while I blast out
music in my ears and tune the world out
Write, write, write whatever crazy thing
has been lingering in my mind
then I drive to the only place
where I can get fresh bread
I stand in a line full of the local hipsters
for my gluttonous must have
rush back home where I write
and plot more blog content for next month
will there be another playlist?
more angry poetry about an ex
who screwed me over?
or am I changing the narrative
and finally being honest about my recovery
Sunday mornings are always an opportunity
for my creativity to come out in full force
without judgment, without apologies
I wrote this poem in 2019 when I found out my friend Brad had lied to me for a decade about something pretty important.
17 years of friendship ruined
Because of one lie
One lie turned into a decade
Of lying to ME–
His supposed close friend
ME
A girl he supposedly loved and cared for
ME
The one he claimed meant a lot to him
But he couldn’t come clean
With his truth
He couldn’t man up and be honest
Instead he lied and lied and lied
Until
The lie came out 10 years too late
I’m overreacting, he says
But friendship like I know friendship
Is not built on a foundation of
Lies, betrayal, and mistrust
Fuck off,
Glad you’re gone,
Good riddance,
Hope you remember the words of anger
I wrote to you
And you keep your promise
To never contact me again.
This was my response to prompt #24: Your Top Priority
I build the life of my dreams through discipline and hard work
while I appreciate everything I have at this moment
even the minor annoyances
and especially the moments of calm and silence
I’m no longer relegating myself to a side character
or a side chick or a passenger in my life
I’m writer, the master, the driver of the life I’m creating
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=5186
Al carajo el cuento tóxico de amor que siempre repito
rehusó a que me falten el respecto
por otro hombre que me llena de mentiras amorosas
porque no que estar solo y me quiere en su cama
paro de ser una curita temporanea
para otro hombre confundido
que me expulsa de su vida cuando paró de ser fácil
Desde AHORA cualquier hombre que quiere estar conmigo
tendrá que demostrar ser digno de mi energía
I wrote this in December 2021.
Believing in myself feels like an act of rebellion
after years of self loathing and self destruction
I finally feel enough and complete
Is this some kind of dream?
Do I really love myself?
Do I really accept myself?
Do I really care about myself?
I do and I do and I do
I’m ready to live out my truth
I’m complicated and complex
and not terrible or a hot mess
I’ve been forever misjudged
and thought I was too much
The reality of my authenticity
Brings out a new transparency
I was never too much or not enough
or even the hardest to love
I might be a complicated puzzle to solve
But I’m always, always, worthy of love
This was my response to prompt #17: The best gift you could receive
God grant me serenity and peace
I hate it when I’m like this
everything annoys the fuck out of me
If I have to see another post about healing or trauma
or my inner child, I’m throwing my phone out the door
it’s not anything or anyone specifically
its these horrible mood swings
They transform me into a salty bitch
who sets fire to everything and everyone
with her pen and paper
at least now I channel my anger into poetry and prose
and no longer self implode
when will serenity and peace come to me permanently
and not just come to visit me temporarily?
This was my response to prompt #27: A book you want to read
Will “The Body Keep Score” give me the answers I need
as to why my body still feels past trauma
and why I still have nightmares about people and places
who has caused me harm?
or how when a trauma anniversary comes up
like the day I lost my baby or the day I lost my mind
my body feels extra heavy and my fists are clenched all day
Will I finally understand my body can still feel the pain of trauma
months and even years later when something catastrophic happens to me?
I wrote this in December of 2021.
I was never the marrying kind
Don’t know why I forced myself into that line
Maybe because of society’s expectations
I made marriage my destination
But it wasn’t really who I ever was
Forever is not meant to be in my book of love
But still I tried for seven years
And by year 7, I ran into my biggest fear
I felt trapped in a cage of my own making
Happiness, contentment, and authenticity I was faking
But it was never truly me
Living this suburban reality
And one day I wanted to sleep forever
My mind collapsed from society’s pressure
to continue this facade of being the perfect wife
With my perfectly imperfect life
My authenticity I had to put aside
I’m a wife and mother of three
There’s no such thing as being free
But these were the lies I told myself
The critic in me I learned to quell
I learned I could be a mother but not a wife
My husband took our relationship’s demise in stride
There would no more anniversaries
We were done with self imposed forgeries
And a new chapter started with us
One full of laughter, friendship and familial love
This was my response to prompt #23: What’s you’d really like to do tomorrow
Tomorrow I’d like to swim for the first time in my former paradise
and after lay out in the sun in my bikini
I’ve loved feel the sand everywhere instead of tolerating
another dreary and rainy day in Georgia
My mood would improve and I would write more happy poems
Instead of writing about how I hate my existence
and everyone and everything in it
Apparently, here is another poem from the great breakup of 2021 that never got posted. I’ve also included the revision of it after the poem.
I deserve better
than some low class player
I deserve a man who knows how to love
not some boy that’s not enough
I deserve respect
not to be treated like an object
I deserve honesty
not someone who lies to me
I deserve to be able to trust
Not some asshole who’s out for lust
I deserve to be happy
and to not drown in misery
I deserve a real man
and not an ass from jerk land
2001
Worthy of My Energy
fuck the toxic love story I keep on repeating
I refuse to be disrespected and objectified
by another man who lies to me about love
because he’s lonely and wants me in his bed
I’m no longer a temporary bandaid
for another confused man
who doesn’t know what he wants
and discards of me when I’m stop being easy
from now on any man who wants to be with me
will have to prove himself to be worthy of my energy
Life on the BPD 