Sept of 1986-me blowing out a candle right before me and my family started our immigration journey-my aunt had a goodbye party for us
When I was little, I was often lost in daydreams about America It was beautiful and blue I pictured a celestial and warm ocean where the waves tenderly touch my toes I was taught it was a better existence than the one we were living in but no one told me that dreams sometimes don’t come true and the reality of America was filled with a hardness that even 35 years later I’m still processing indentured servitude, exploitation, depression, addiction,racism, mental illness were just a few side effects of going for the American dream
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
Vete de aqui Ya no hay más puertas que abrir Lo de nosotros ya no funciona Se nos acabaron las palabras Se termino nuestro amor Y se volvió en un enorme rencor
Vete de aqui Ya no eres nada para mi Me hiriste demasiado Con tu amor Tu nunca quisiste Tener en nosotros algo de fe
Vete de aqui Nunca fui algo especial para ti Nunca ocupe un sitio importante Y hasta ahora no se porque Es mejor que te vayas Y terminar con nuestra Tremenda farsa
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.
So much anxiety and depression hidden behind that smile 😭
Life on the BPD 