I’m not meant to be loved behind closed doors or only at night or kept as your little secret I’m not meant to be the mistress, the side chick or your on call whore I’m not meant to be devoured at your convenience in 2 hour increments I’m meant to be taken out in public in the daytime and introduced to your family and friends I’m meant to be part of your relationship status, your girlfriend, your partner in crime I’m meant to be paraded and exhibited everywhere but most of all I’m meant to be loved out loud
This was my response to prompt #31: One word to describe your year
It’s hard but always well worth it
Growth was uncomfortable and made me want to crawl out of my skin I had to acknowledge my own toxicity and take accountability I stopped blaming my parents or exes for my sadness and angst I held up a mirror to myself and recognized it was me holding myself back I was the worst villain in my story and never the victim I chose to turn this story around and confront my trauma head on, write my demons out-embrace my self-imposed solitary confinement, throw out my self invalidation, learn self compassion In order to evolve into a person of value and worth I let go of anything unhealthy and make sacrifices by giving up my self-destructive vices Growth could only happen in solitude and embracing radical honesty
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
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
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.
Solitude be like
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
This is my response to prompt #15: the best kind of surprise
sometimes you have to say “fuck it”
Love surprises me with a glance, with a slight touch on my hand And 99.9 percent of me wants to run I don’t want to take a chance once again with my sanity but the romantic in me say “fuck it” maybe this will finally be a different story one where my lover doesn’t leave
Why did you break our romantic ties? What did she have to make you leave me suddenly? Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story, of finding myself the woman used and scorned? I’m fucking exhausted with rage always making the same mistake over and over again giving all of my myself to another confused man who leaves me when I’m no longer easy
The 10th year of blogging brought a lot of progress and growth in my life. As I write this, I’m excited to say that I’m in a really good place in my life. I’m proud that I’ve been consistent in posting content on almost a daily basis and have continued to challenge myself as a writer and content creator. When I have asked people what they think about the blog, they tell me “it’s honest” and “you really don’t hold back”. Some people don’t believe that everything I share is the truth because it’s so crazy. Well, sometimes my life does feel stranger than fiction. But, at least I’m never bored, right? One thing I started to do this year is translate all of my poetry whether the original poem was in Spanish or English. One of my favorite poems I translated is this one:
I’ve also revised a lot of my old poems. This year, I’ve also grown a lot as a writer. In a few months, I can finally say I’m a published author. I will share the links to those books as they come out.
I can also say that I’m a much different person than the person who wrote this blog post this time last year:
I’ve let go a lot of the anger, shame, and guilt I felt from my trauma. It was a combination of therapy, a new level of introspection, and having a new appreciation for my life. I think last year when I restarted this blog, I was alternating between a state of anger, grief, and mania. I wanted to be as honest as I could be and I gave no fucks about the opinions of others. Also, as I was revisiting some of my older poems, it brought up trauma and well the anger came out in full force . I was also trying to find who I was beneath all of these years of unprocessed trauma. Add all this to the fact that I changed to hormonal birth control that made me even more angry and it was like a hurricane of emotions I tried to surf but sometimes couldn’t control.
I’m still going to continue telling my story but I’m skipping to December of 2021. There was a lot of poetry and stories I wrote from 2018 to November of 2021 and some of it I have shared on this blog already. The time frame I’m skipping is also the period of time when my BPD was at its worst and to put it mildly, I was an emotional train wreck. Sharing that version of me doesn’t feel right to me at this time. Also, I think that from December of 2021 to now is when my real recovery from BPD started and I wrote poetry on an almost daily basis.It’s going to be a challenge deciding which poems are going to end up on this blog. As I go through this recovery journey from my BPD, I’m understanding that I can still process and honor my trauma without having to share it on this blog or social media.
The direction of the blog is also going to move towards collaborations with other content creators, writers, and guest bloggers. So if you have a story, opinion piece, an essay, or poem you want to share with the world, feel free to contact me. I’m open to most topics. Also, you can use a pseudonym or be completely anonymous. I invite you to share your passion or anger or whatever message you want to send out there to the world through my blog! The cringier and more emotional, the better. Lol. Below is link to my contact info:
Lastly, thank you to all of my followers and everyone who reads, takes the time to read, and like my brand of crazy. I’m humbled every time I get a comment or a like on one of my posts. The fact that this blog has grown exponentially from 17 followers in July of 2021. This means I’m doing something right. Thank you for allowing me to have this platform to be my most vulnerable, craziest, saltiest, and authentic self.
Excited about what the 11th year of Blogging will bring
At 40, I feel like the ultimate Queen after losing layers and layers of my princess skin The broken princess I had to beat to finally feel enough and complete Friends and men full of duplicity Have no place in my world of authenticity I no longer wear my crown of guilt and shame It caused me too much emotional pain Instead I wear a crown of confidence and power being true to myself is my superpower Fuck anyone who thinks I’m too much or not enough You assholes were never deserving of my love I am the ultimate Queen and I’m finally making myself seen
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. Iguess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
December 9, 2010
He forgot our 8 year anniversary I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter. Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced. There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears Over something that would end soon. There was no use in feeling devastated over Something that never should have happened. Vows that should never have been taken. Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning. Empty words that were never believed in. 8 years of marriage; an institution we thought would bind us for eternal life. So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect wouldn’t break us apart. He forgot our 8 year anniversary Just like he forgot all of his promises to “Try harder” or “to change” So I wouldn’t leave. He forgot our 8 year anniversary. And it’s fine. You don’t celebrate something That is already dead.
Maybe I was too harsh with my words Frustrated with rejection and abandonment I was filled with anger and resentment that needed to bleed on paper Maybe I’ve been too much of a critic Cutting you down with petty words and insults Perhaps I was projecting my own insecurities Maybe I should have taken some of the blame of your unexpected departures I know I’m not an easy woman to be with often times I’m too emotional and needy And maybe, just maybe I forgive all of you and me We were all trying our best to love and be loved And sometimes even our best isn’t enough
Life on the BPD 