I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
my body has betrayed me one last time
and this time I’ll take charge of it
and control what’s happening
this time I’m old enough to stop
this nonsense and kill what’s causing me
the most insufferable pain
and I’ll replace the hip that’s the vane
of my existence,
the diseased hip that must be sacrificed for me
to stop the curse of martyrdom passed down
for generations
I am a powerful force in this complicated world
full of intelligence humor and intense sexuality
men want to fuck me, women want to hate me
both want to get near me
I’m an Amazon goddess in a millennial mom bod
I try my best to stay humble
but have you ever been
called the most beautiful woman in the world
or has your power make grown men cry
and run away from you
it’s hard to stay down to earth
when I hold so much power between my legs
and my hands
Soy una a mujer, made up of chaos and trauma
who carries strength and resilience as her armor
What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
Ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
you are a national treasure to me
your origin is mysterious
your taste is juicy and tasty
ceviche, ceviche, ceviche,
you are an explosion of ecstacy
because you feel like you’re
making love to my mouth
with every bite I melt inside
4/6/2022
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
they’re the ones I try to better myself for
they’re the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
they’re my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love
If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?
This is the most terrible prompt on WordPress to be honest. Perhaps this is coming from a place of vanity since the only thing that made me seriously consider the convent was the thought of wearing the same outfit the rest of my life. In fact, here’s a poem I wrote about it.
‘My vice
On a sunny day, I was angry and running
and said, “who the fuck needs men”
and I thought about joining the convent
I could definitely take a vow of celibacy
but then I remember their vow of poverty
And I can’t become a poor person again
Sure God will understand I’m made for starbucks
And pretty dresses from amazon
And to take a vow of modesty would feel like an atrocity
a crime against my humanity
I could never tone down my beauty
I look too good in a bikini
so for now I’ll have to settle for a secular life
because being a spoiled and pretty girl is my vice
Anyways, WordPress needs to do better with their prompts. 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12825
la negación se asienta en mis entrañas
pero lo disfrazó con una sonrisa
y viajes al zoológico
fingiendo que la felicidad doméstica
es lo maximo
mientras estoy temblando con rabia
What makes a teacher great?
As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.
I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories. At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:
Poetry: That Night
Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year. That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work. She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:
poetry: saint tracey
I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.
Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica, Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:
Play: Choices
Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere. Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.
I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
july, july, july
it’s the month where I lose my mind
the heat gets to me and turns up the BSC in me
you won’t find me sweet and eager to please in July
you won’t find me full of ruffles and flowery phrases
in poetry
you’ll find me being a ball of immigrant rage and fury
you’ll find me a woman who’s had enough
of the American dream bullshit
and ready to roar and scream out everything wrong
with this country
WordPress Prompt: What are you most worried about for the future?
Things I’m currently crashing out about:
Finances-I’m in a financial hole due to loss income and medical debt. I’ve been in denial for such a long time about it but today I didn’t even have enough to cover my rent so I had to ask my other roommates for their share and one of them will move out soon. It’s been keeping up at night but I know I’ll dig myself out as I have done before. It just fucking sucks for now and makes me feel like a complete and utter failure. But there’s no time for me to lament and whine, I need to take action now and I’m doing it. I have to have blind faith that I’ll be fine and there is a light at the end of these really dark economic times.
CPTSD symptoms: Triggered cause of the heat, the stress and this time of the year. I’m managing not to have a total and complete emotional relapse by exercising, drinking my water and minding my business, watching movies with really pretty people in them, and acknowledging what’s happening by talking to close friends and writing. I honestly feel like if someone came up to me and gave me $10000, my CPTSD would completely disappear but that’s not real life. I’m trying to do better because last week I was a complete bitch to one of my friends and she didn’t deserve it. I apologized and owned up to it but damn I still feel bad about it.
And of course, existing while Latina in this country. With all the shit that’s happening I worry about my family members and myself. I try to take it day by day but the anxiety gets at 100 when I see a new headline pop up especially the latest one about stripping citizenship from U.S citizens. I have to laugh because one) I’m too medicated to cry and two) it’s really not worth getting so upset about something out of my control.
I haven’t done a WordPress Prompt in a minute and this one just gnawed and gnawed at me and I was like, hell, maybe I’ll feel better screaming into the void especially now that my nature spot is ruined. R.I.P my special creek. I hope that the next time I answer a WordPress prompt, it’s something where I answer the question and I’m a lot happier. I hope that in three months, I’ll look back on this post and I can see that I’ve made a lot of progress and I feel more balanced and hopeful and I can say, well, I made it and I’m more than okay. IF not, at least I will have written a lot more poems and stories.
another poem inspired by 2007.
denial sits in the pit of my gut
but I disguise it with a smile
and trips to the zoo
act like domestic bliss is heaven
when inside I’m trembling with rage
escribí este poema en Junio del 2024.
Entre la espada y la pared me encuentro otra vez
es tiempo para otra evolución, otro renacimiento
pero me siento cómoda donde estoy
me siento tranquila aqui
donde no tengo que dar explicaciones a nadie
pero el universo tiene otros planes para mi
pronto vendrá alguien o algo que me moverá el piso
y denuevo caeré en el caos sin querer queriendo
here’s the english version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12818
envuelta en un ciclo de nostalgia
cartas y fotos viejas y música de los 90
tratando de acordarme de quien fui
Antes de me convertirme la madre de alguien
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
as long as there is breath left in me
I will try
try to be a good mom to my kids
try to tell my story
try to love everyone the best way
i can
try to find understanding
for what happened to me
try to find joy in the most ordinary
of moments
try to dance my way through
my most depressive episodes
try find my inner peace and calm
When I first started to watch the movie “The Breakup”, I was actually expecting the formulaic Romantic Comedy but it was actually a realistic movie about the demise of a relationship. I found myself relating to Brooke, one of the main characters in the movie more than I would have liked. At the beginning of the movie, we are shown this montage of how the relationship between Gary and Brooke starts and then develops so they are at a point where they move in together when they buy a luxurious condo. Within the first 10 minutes of the movie, we are shown what conflict goes on in their relationship. As Brooke is preparing for a dinner party for both their families, she asks Gary to do things to help her prepare for the guests, Gary is full of excuses and essentially treats her like a nag. Maybe this is my biased perspective coming from a place where I’ve been treated as such.
What is first seen here is a breakup in communication where Gary is dismissive of Brooke’s needs at that moment. I think that a lot of women I know can testify what that feels like but most of us have been conditioned to excuse that kind of behavior. Anyways, at the dinner party, Brooke and Gary act like a normal couple. Also, what can be observed from Brooke and Gary’s families is that they both come from different social classes. We can speculate that this is maybe why their relationship didn’t work but I think it is just one factor. After their families leave, a fight ensues between Brooke and Gary over a simple domestic task, washing the dishes. Brooke wants Gary to help with this task and Gary grumbles about it and when he finally says he’ll do, he has a bad attitude about it. Brooke doesn’t want his help and this resonates with me and I’m sure it does with other women ,she tells Gary, “I want you to want to do the dishes.” That line implicates both control and hopeful expectations for her partner.
A lot of women I know (myself included) wants a partner that takes initiative in helping us and showing their appreciation for us. We feel like we shouldn’t have to remind them, they should just want to do it. If they claim to care about us and love us, why is it so damn hard for them to show it? I think the issue could lie in the cliche that we as women tend to expect “us” and how we would act from our partners. In society, women are conditioned and taught to be nurturers and to show our love and appreciation for our partners. We are also taught to believe that we have to fit into certain categories of societal expectations in order to feel like we are enough and worthy to feel loved. Men, on the other hand, well, they are just taught that they are good enough as they are for their potential partners. Also, society has conditioned men that in order for them to be “real men”, they shouldn’t show their emotions.
Gary and Brooke
As women, we are conditioned to believe that we will thrive and be a whole person in society if we become wives and mothers. This belief makes a lot of women settle for less than they deserve and tolerate way more than they should in a relationship. As humans we are conditioned that life is incomplete without a partner and the worst thing that can happen to us is a life of solitude.
Even though Brooke breaks up with Gary, she later reveals that she does this in hopes that he will learn his lesson and change to become a better partner. She doesn’t actually want to break up with him. She goes so far as to bring the guys she dates to the condo they’re currently sharing so he’ll get jealous. This follows the belief of why many women stay in a relationship; because if they stick around long enough and do the hard work, their partner will change to become the partner they want them to be. It follows the belief that we as women can mold men with enough time and patience to become that partner. This infantilizes men in a way. It’s a belief in which we are treating men like another one of our children that needs to be molded. Brooke “punishes” Gary like a child by breaking up with him in hopes he’ll change into the partner she wants him to be.
Gary finally starts to take Brooke seriously towards the end of the movie. By that time, it is too late and she’s already emotionally detached from him. There is a cliche saying “by the time the guy starts to care, it’s too late and the girl no longer cares . I’ve seen this happen many times in real life. In my own perspective, I tried everything to save my marriage with my husband and even though he tried, it was never enough in my eyes. His dismal effort kept making me feel less than, worthless even. By the time he finally saw that he was going to lose me; it was too late and I had emotionally detached myself from the relationship. Just like Brooke, I had time and time again invested so much of myself, changed so much of myself to try to salvage our relationship while he put in the most minimal effort. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I knew that no matter how hard he or I tried, our marriage couldn’t be saved.
At the end of the movie after Brooke leaves the apartment, she runs into Gary a few months later and they catch up in a cordial manner and glance back smiling at each other and one could say perhaps both of them got the closure they needed. Of course, in real life, me and my husband can’t afford to separate and divorced and have to continue to live together but through a mutual understanding we live together as roommates and co-parents. We actually do this successfully and almost painlessly. He’ll even give me life advice from time to time if I’m going through something rough. I think that once we both accepted that we were no longer compatible as romantic partners, our relationship as friends got stronger since we felt free to really be our authentic selves with each other.
the story continue from 2007 on with this poem.
caught up in a cycle of nostalgia
old letters and photos and 90s music
trying to remember who I was
before I became someone’s mom
Life on the BPD 