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
I wrote this in 2002 fantasizing about the love and life I wanted. Poor 21 year old me, she was so damn naïve.
it’s a lesson in learning my worth
I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life wrapped up in your arms I’m looking forward to newlywed bliss Having a little one with your gorgeous smile And in old age, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch I’m looking forward to petty arguments, responsibility, and bills What I’m looking forward to the most is to being your wife
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
I wrote this in February 2002 about my first baby daddy. He had started to be in contact with when he got the child support order. I obviously had a lot of residual resentment and trauma and blamed him for losing part of adolescence.
monsters that leave you with trauma
She was the girl you left behind with nothing but a baby and a desperate hope to keep her alive
She was innocent, naive, and untouched until the night she fell into your sexy scent, your empowering embrace, and a world full of promises She trusted, believed, and dreamed
Thanks to your unexpected departure that naive girl you left behind blossomed into a woman of depth, strength and wisdom beyond her 21 years She will lust but she can’t ever love She wants to trust but finds herself full of doubt She wishes to fill herself with guilt and morals but has learned to have no scruples
So don’t try to come back and expect her to believe in your crocodile tears or your most insincere apologies that girl you left behind Grew up into a woman at a surreal speed thanks to you
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:
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:
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:
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:
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
you wear many faces, sometimes you have dark hair sometimes you have blond hair but you always take me in your arms and make me feel loved and accepted for who I am you don’t care that I’m too crazy or too much It’s a type of excitement, an almost adrenaline rush for you and if I annoy you-you’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous but apologize right after I burst into tears and you’re not afraid of my tears or screams because you know it comes with the territory when it comes to loving me and then I wake up- in my self imposed solitary confinement and I wonder if this dream could one day come into existence like my other dreams or it it will become another fulfilled fantasy Because love stories aren’t meant for someone crazy like me