Poetry: A Note

I wrote this in 2002 about Lucas after he dropped me off at home. I really thought we had this special and unique connection at the time even though the situation was so fucked up.

maybe

He drops her off and waits for her to inside
opens the glove compartment
and picks up the note
she leaves for him
He feels ecstatic and miserable
at the same time
by her simple way with words
It’s not so much the content
It’s the meaning behind it
He wants to stop and love her
but he can’t
He realizes she leaves that note
as a reminder that she will
always love him

Poesía: Cobardía

 Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca de Lucas. Estaba bien amarga y llena de amargura porque él nunca quiso dejar a su esposa. Mis pensamientos eran irracional e ilógico. Esto pasa cuando uno tiene trastorno límite de la personalidad.

pero el me olvido como los otros

El romance paro
gracias a tu cobardía
Nunca quisistes pelear
Por aquel amor que me decias
Que te hacía querer vivir la vida
Y yo me quedo aquí
Sola y desilusionada
Y tu
Con el viejo hábito
Que se llama “tu esposa”

Poetry: I Wish

I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed AF. I wrote this because I was in a toxic work environment where I was discriminated against, disrespected, and at one point even slut shamed. We could say by today’s standards that I was bullied to the extent that getting up every morning for this job was really hard. I was tired of it when I wrote this poem. I’ll tell the story of this toxic job in another blog post.

resilience should be my middle name

I wish I could throw up
everything ugly in my life
and only enjoy the beautiful
Perhaps tell the put me down people
to fuck off

Or stop their pathetic attempts
to change me into their idea
of what I should be

And stop getting talked into what
they think is best for me

Poetry: Pain

I wrote this in 2002 when I was really depressed. I probably should have gone to therapy but instead I wrote poetry.

sometimes this feels true

My emotional pain is killing me
at a steady pace with no means of stopping
Or even slowing down
I don’t know how to feel good
about myself anymore
I forgot what it’s like to laugh or smile
What’s left of my pride is gone.

Poetry: To My Baby Daddy

I wrote this in 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. It kind of sucks that this situation happened BUT at least I got some salty poetry out of it. Lol.

triggered

Hey Mr.Donor man
How does it feel to have your son
Learn you never wanted to come
That you talked big shit
and never meant any of it
That no matter how hard I tried for him
you never wanted to be a daddy to him
That you were so fucking lame
You couldn’t even give him your last name
That to you, his mom
was just good fun
That you’re a fucking coward
you never dared to be his father
Don’t worry though
He’ll always have my love
And without you, he’ll be just fine
One day I’ll meet a man who is kind
Who will love him and I
and will want us in his life
Who’ll be glad to take the place of
The man who couldn’t give us love
Who will come to his defense
when things get tense
Who will stick around
And won’t bring him down
Who will finally be
The dad you never wanted to be

Poetry: Three Years Too Late

I wrote this poem about my oldest son’s bio dad in February of 2002. A lot of residual resentment I had towards him was because he wouldn’t step up. My empathy button for him was really broken for him and in this case maybe it needed to be.

it be like that sometimes

Three years too late
You’ve decided to embrace your fate
You’ve decided to recognize your mistake
And fill my ears with apologies
For not accepting mine and his existence

So now you feel like playing dad
And expect me to forgive and forget
about the misery you left us in
The years of being a fucking deadbeat to him
Please do what you do best
Walk away and put this situation to rest
For he doesn’t need
A false wannabe daddy
Who will cause him harm
in the long run

Poetry: She Stopped Waiting

I wrote this about my first baby daddy in February of 2002 when he contacted me. At the time that we talked, he told me that he wish I would have told him earlier about pregnancy because he would have married me instead of his wife. It honestly made me mad so I sat down and wrote this poem.

So accurate

You left her without a warning
Couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye
Now you’ve come back
Wanting to stake a claim
On what was once yours
Thinking she will gladly accept you
in a welcoming embrace
Sorry to tell you
But she stopped waiting for your return
a few years ago
You taught her not to need you, not to miss you
She moved on and left you in her mind
as a bittersweet memory
And that’s how she now sees you

Poesia: Que Espera?

Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca cuando estaba involucrada con mi compañero de trabajo Lucas que estaba casado. Estaba bien celosa y amarga.

La Verdad, yo fui una de muchas

Usted qué espera señor
Que le siga dando amor
Sabiendo que usted comparte
mis caricias, mis noches
Tambien con ella
Sabiendo que me duele el alma
Cada vez que me entero
Que usted estuvo con aquella
Lo siento, pero no estoy aquí
para ser su tonta
Por nuestro “amor”
Esta historia tiene que parar
Y no lo quiero ver nunca más

Poetry: Mr. New Guy

I wrote this in early January 2002 about some random dude I was talking to online. I never met the dude that inspired this poem.

sometimes I’m both

So you want to meet soon?
I wonder why
You say because I sound
Sexy and great
But should I take another chance
And end up with another
horrible waste of a man
who will regard me
as just another good fuck
Or maybe I’m being too cynical
And you for once will be
Mr.Right
What I know is that
I couldn’t stand again being a fad

Poetry: Without a Goodbye

I wrote this poem in 2001. I think that this poem was inspired by seeing what one of my family members was going through during their separation.

life is strange

Walking through this house
so full in every single room
are memories of you
the living room where
you held me
the kitchen where we dined
the bedroom we made love
kind of hard to imagine
all that is left,
are pictures of you

in my mind
but I have to accept that
this house will be
empty and cold
just like my heart
since you left
without saying goodbye

Poetry: A Liberal Kind of Love

I wrote this in September of 2001, I guess I was frustrated with dating because it sucked getting stuck in relationships I had no business being in. Half the time, I did it to not be lonely but then I found myself miserable.

the magic is in you

A Liberal Kind of Love 

Holding hands and kisses
on the cheeks is
what we are no longer about

Hot and sweaty bodies
fucking with a goodbye
note in the morning
is now our nature

Respect, honesty, and trust
are long forgotten words

Deception, disillusionments and selfishness
are now our sacred words

Poetry: Old Habits

I wrote this in 2001 about the great breakup of 2001. This is the last poem I wrote about this relationship. One of the aspects that I was hyper focused on during this breakup was being cheated on. Another reason, I flew into a rage was because “S” ex wife would not stop calling me after the breakup. It got to the point I had to change my phone number. She wasn’t exactly mean, I think she was trying to reach out as a fellow victim of “S” deception and wanted someone to process the pain with but I wanted no part of it. It felt too raw and painful for me at the time for me. And she wasn’t the only that called me about “S” cheating on me, there had been another chick by the name of Mariah. Also, the other part was that me and “S” communicated via email after the breakup for a few days just to fight about everything and place blame on each other. Emotions were really high not just on my part but for everyone involved. Also, this situation brought up triggers from my previous relationship with Paul. There are the reasons I went into a rage and ended up writing more than 40 poems about a 6 week long relationship. Reflecting on this now at 40, I can honestly say that I did process and heal from that breakup when it happened. I mean I did write like more than 40 poems about but maybe it’s what I needed to do at the time. I also don’t hold a grudge about “S” or his ex or anyone involved. Everyone was in their early 20s and we were all trying to do our best at that time and maybe our best looks shitty to other people.

maybe we were all counterfeits

You two were made for each other
Like the sun was made to be hot
To you I was just another toy
To play with,
But once the newness wore off
You decided to go back to
Your old comfortable teddy bear
Unfortunately old habits
are hard to break

A Decade of Blogging

sums up my decade

So today marks my 10 anniversary since starting this blog. I’ll admit that until the summer of this year I didn’t take this blog as seriously as maybe I should have. I started this blog in December of 2011 after my house was broken into and we were robbed. It was traumatizing to me and my family and I needed a way to process it so I started blogging. Here is that blogpost:

Hola/Hello

Since starting this blog, there have been a lot of life changes. I’ve blog about those life changes few times when just writing it down doesn’t do the trick. The way that I have explained it to friends and family is that the blog is like screaming into the void of cyberspace. In October of 2019, I started posting my poetry and this was another level of intimacy for me because I don’t share my poetry with just anyone. I will share my poetry or writing with one of my close friends or sometimes at open mic at my local pub .Then I started a second job and I didn’t have the time needed to dedicate to this blog but I always kept writing. Then I got into a relationship that lasted until July of this year. While I’m not getting into how that relationship ended or why (that’s blog content for late next year-lol) it was one of the reasons I started blogging again. The demise of that relationship was unexpected and devastating for me so I turned to my first coping mechanism-writing. Shortly before my breakup in July, I started therapy and was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and that was a lot to process in itself. Being broken up while dealing with a new diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder felt like I had experienced 2 really horrible car wrecks within a week. I compare it to a car accident because that’s probably one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Except this time, it wasn’t my car that was totaled and unrepairable, it was me. I felt like I had lost part of my identity since I was no longer someone’s partner and I gained a new part of my identity in being diagnosed with BPD. I felt completely overwhelmed with no sense of direction; I honestly didn’t know what to do next. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry while Alexa played my sad girl playlist from Spotify. Here is that playlist:

Playlist: For the Brokenhearted: Sad Edition (the one where you cry)

And while I did do that some of the time; I understood I still needed to get up every day and show up for myself somehow. And showing up for myself meant writing. And so I wrote every day in my journal and in my numerous notebooks. I wrote letters at 3 AM that I would never send, journal entries full of immense sadness and rage, and tons and tons of poetry.

these are just a few of my journals and well Sylvia Plath is of course one of my favorite poets

A few days after my breakup, I decided to blog about my diagnosis to start to make sense of it and here’s that post:

A New Diagnosis: BPD

After writing that post and it got more than a few views and a couple of likes, it made me realize that there are other people like me. I also got the idea at that time that healing for me would look like me revisiting past traumatic situations through my poetry and reflections or writing a blog post. And this was chaotic in itself because I started posting poetry from all stages in my life. So around late October and early November, I started posting poetry for the most part chronologically from the early stages of my writing with the very first poem I wrote when I was 15 and here’s that poem:

Poetry: Another Mate

My writings and poetry are confessional, sometimes childish, and at times super emotional. It’s meant for people who have felt misunderstood in their anger and grief, it’s meant for people who feel everything at once and feel overwhelmed by it, it’s meant for people who have traumas they’re still not over, and it’s meant for people who have given their trust and vulnerability to the wrong people only to be broken over and over again by doing this.

so I kept writing

My future plan for this blog is to continue to post poetry, essays, playlists, and other writings. Without intending to, this blog has become a storytelling blog. And it’s a story about a woman who is far from perfect. It’s a story of woman who lies, who loves hard, who hates even harder, who loves sex, who has been abandoned by lovers and who has abandoned lovers, who’s crazy, and who feels immense sadness and rage when trauma hits. It’s a story of a woman who fucks up continuously but still manages to get up and try to become a better version of herself than she was yesterday. It’s also a story of a woman who has continued to triumph after trauma. Most importantly it’s a story of a woman who is done accommodating to people’s and society’s expectations of who she should be and at 40 has realized that being authentic and true to herself is the only and right way for her to be. I may have changed a lot within a decade but what will never change is my love for writing and my purpose to continue to share my story.

Here’s to 10 more years of writing about my vida loca

Poetry: Maybe

Maybe I am the girl version of Joe Goldberg after all. LMAO. Of course, this was written about the great breakup of 2001.

Maybe I am sad
finding out you were such a cad
Maybe I am blue
Knowing you were never true
Maybe I was too blind to see
you weren’t really into me
Maybe I was a fool
To never have seen past your bull
Maybe I am done
With guys like you using me for fun
Maybe just maybe I can get past all this
Knowing one day you’ll have to pay for this