I wrote this in 2006 about my husband, then boyfriend. I tend to put a lot of my worth in the person I’m romantically involved with. This is another BPD trait.
Rising from darkness I struggle to find
the light in the oblivion
that has become my life.
The light is bright with love without conditions .
The light tells me I’m good enough.
The light is you.
Thank you for the nights full of passion
Thank you for your mouth and hands
that make me lose control
that make me melt like an ice cube
in the sun
Thank you for coming into my life
Even if it’s for an instant
Thank you for being here
I wrote this poem in 2002 about my oldest son’s bio dad. I had a lot of angry emotions about how he abandoned him.
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who don’t know how to
Appreciate their child’s laughter
Or comfort their high pitch cries
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who don’t understand
What it takes to be an example to
Those that descend from them
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who leave children
In the dust to follow their own desires
Without looking back on their offspring’s
sad little face that whimpers,
“Daddy, come back”
I wrote this poem in late 2005 thinking back on how I felt about my second pregnancy when I found out. It wasn’t an ideal situation at all because I was still in college and my relationship with my husband was on the rocks.
This can’t be
happening to me!
but rarely does it ever lie,
that second pink line
Just when I was on right track
Again I am burdened for lying on my back
What will I do?
Who will I turn to?
How do I tell them?
Once again I am their biggest disappointment
To just sit here and cry
is just a waste of precious time
I have no choice
I have to get away from this awful noise
This will become my personal hell
Because of another persuasive male
I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was pregnant with my second child and mad at my boyfriend (future husband) for his lack of affection and attention to me. I was obviously very upset when I wrote this poem and instead of talking to him I wrote and bottled up my anger.
You refuse to see
All the hurt you’re causing me
With your indifferent ways
It’s a miracle you haven’t yet gone astray
You refuse to see
Our son is paying the fee
He may still be in my belly
But the tears you cause me
Also affect him
You refuse to see
That one day soon you’ll lose me
If you don’t stop
Being so fucking cold.
I wrote this poem in 2004 about my husband, then boyfriend. I guess I was mad about his lack of affection. As you can see, this is a pattern for me. I bottle my emotions up until one day I explode.
If you don’t want any of this
You should just leave
I can’t take anymore
Of your uncaring words
I don’t want to keep you from
Having your fun
So just go away
You only hurt me if you stay
Go back to the way you used to be
Alone, happy, and free
And take your precious independence
You prefer it to our relationship nonsense
So stop acting like you care
To us, it wouldn’t be fair
Adieu, adios, and goodbye
To our enormous love lie
From the ages of 18 to 23, I worked for a government agency as an interpreter. I was well-liked by many of my coworkers and my first supervisor was appreciative of me. I was very good at my job and even cross-trained in many other areas that didn’t “pertain to my job”. However, at that job, I was also bullied and discriminated against for being Latina. I was also slut-shamed by my second supervisor and coworkers the latter 2 years I was there. I don’t want to say I deserved being slut-shamed but I’ll just say that I trusted the wrong coworkers with my private life and they went on to gossip about me to everyone. It was also a very stressful environment because of the work I did and clients I had to interact with. My depression and anxiety went haywire. In 2003, I decided to enroll in my local community college and major in English. In 2004, I was trying to go to school full time, work full time, and deal with my child’s new autism diagnosis. I was breaking down mentally and something had to give so I quit this job. I was fucking done. And this poem was inspired by that moment. I thought I had processed this trauma until it came back up in therapy in the summer of 2021. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had suffered a deep racial trauma that impacted me and still triggered reactions in me. I was angry. There is actually way more to this story and one day I’ll share it when I’m ready.
This was the hardest thing I did
but it had to be done
I couldn’t stand the gossip
or the two faces of everyone
the way they pretended to be my friend
but the minute I turned my back to them
they talked like I was the biggest wench
so much envy and hate
I HAVE TO ESCAPE
FROM THIS MISERABLE FATE!
so today I resigned
I didn’t tell them why
all I know is that for the first time
in a really long time
I feel something like happy
so long to the only place I have known
for an almost five year term
for once I breathe a sigh of relief
I finally had the courage to leave
so long to the hypocrisy of this place
to let myself stay here for another day
would only be a fucking waste
I wrote this in 2003 reflecting on the immigration of me and my family. The first six year we were in the United States was a nightmare. I’m not sure how much I will share of my immigration story because of all the trauma involved.
I was five at the time
when my parents lied
they said it was going to be great
our brand new fate
we were going away
so we could be safe
we weren’t exactly prepared for
the horrors we would endure
the hardships and struggles
the wonder of it all
why did they persuade us
in them we lost our trust
now we’ll never again believe
what they want us to see
I wrote this in March of 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas.
So many things left unsaid
the day you decided to get away
So much left undone
Because I was no longer fun
So many tears I had cried
Asking myself a thousand whys?
Why did you leave?
I thought we were a perfect fit.
What was wrong with us?
That made you leave in a rush
Why did you break my heart?
by pulling us apart
And why didn’t you love me so?
It’s excruciating to let you go
I wrote this in February of 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas.
I sit here at what once was our “spot”
and contemplate our last conversation
And I think over and over again how that last phrase got to
“Me and my wife had a long talk-and we decided to work things out”
I know I should have been happy but I was sad
I know I should’ve smiled but instead I cried
Of course I hid this very well from you
And the few words I could muster up was
“Well that’s good, I’m happy for you”
And I wonder why when I should’ve been happy for you, my friend
But I was sad for me
I sit down and wonder why
I always end up with the same lost guy
Who doesn’t know what he wants and hurts me tons
Who uses me just as an escape
to get away from his mate
Who never wants to tell me I love you
and thinks of me as anything but the one
who never cares after our tragic love affair fails
I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was frustrated with Matt and blamed him for my life going awry. Looking back, it was misplaced blame on a situation that only I had control over. At the time, it was much easier to blame Matt rather than take a look at myself and how I was responsible for the mess I made of my life.
Dear son
How do I stop
from feeling all of this resentment and anger
at the deadbeat who calls himself your dad?
Dear son
Will I ever feel better
about our almost dead-end situation
your dad has put us in?
Dear son
Will you ever forgive me
for not having everything
someone as wonderful as you should have?
Dear son
Can you show me where to
find a glimmer of hope
and that without him
both of us will be alright?
So I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was dating my husband and maybe I was foreshadowing my future with him (sort of-haha). I think that maybe I was paranoid he had someone else at the time because he was such a private person. Reflecting on this now is kind of strange because I was the one that ended up with the indiscretions. I was 22 when I wrote this and I have I think that this is a good example of “splitting” meaning that I went to black and white thinking about him.
FALSE FAIRY TALE
Everyone believes that you and I
are the real deal
That we are perfect
and don’t have issues
Little do they know
that you treat me with no worth
That to you
I am not your only girl
That I close my eyes and ears
and deny to myself the fact
That your indiscretions are real
that you just used me as a tool
To have everyone fooled
That you have the perfect wife
And you are the perfect husband
but I am too tired of this
False fairy tale
I have to get out of this lie
Before I lose what’s important
for the sake of your arrogance
So tonight I leave our once “happy” home
so I won’t lose
All that’s left of me
I wrote this in January of 2004 when I first started dating my husband. The age difference between caused a real uproar in both of our families and my friends.
I don’t want us to be ruined
By outside influences
Those people who are in disbelief
that you could fall for somebody
As plain and unimpressive as me
Those people that are jealous
of our unconditional love
And can’t stand to think
One day you’ll give me a ring
I wrote this in 2003 about Lucas. I was again obsessing about him.
Everyday I think about you more and more
My heart can’t help itself
I close my eyes for a brief second
and your wonderful and attached self
is what my mind sees.
I catch myself missing you
and it doesn’t make sense to miss something
I never really had.
You did something to me
without having to do anything.
Maybe you accidentally put a spell on me .
I still can’t figure out why you,
Mr.Forbidden has become
my new unrequited love obsession
Maybe love really does come
out of the least expected place
Or maybe I will always
Desire the one that I can’t have.
I wrote this in May of 2003 when one of my close friends had a miscarriage.
It’s so funny and ironic
When something bad happens
most people says things
Like “it’s God’s way”
or the famous
“Whatever doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger”
It makes you wonder if there
are actual people out there
who would say,
“It’s okay to be mad at God’s way”
or
“It’s alright to be weak instead of strong”
or that it’s perfectly fine to scream out loud
“FUCK THE WORLD”
If there is a least one person like this,
I want them to become my new “best friend”
Life on the BPD 