On new year’s day of 2023,I have resolutions but they’re simple a trip to my homeland that’s been set in stone teaching my son to drive a divorce as a late birthday gift to myself keep my bangs because that’s really who I am pushing my oldest son to be more independent Continue to share my poetry with the world unapologetically Be wary of anything that pollutes my energy try my best to ebb and flow with the turbulent waves of my emotions take any obstacles that might occur in life in stride make more time for my friends and family become a new kind of brave woman and continue to do things out of my comfort zone to help me grow and evolve become an example of determination, discipline, and creativity for my kids to follow- and continue to inspire others with my journey of self discovery 2023 will be chaotic with everything I’m planning 2023 will be the year where I’m the definition of bravery
silence is no longer an option if I continue to do so, I’d be suffocating the part of me who needs to be heard in order to heal I’d be failing myself, my ancestors, and future generations silence is no longer an option to do so is an act of violence against the writer and poet in me whose purpose is to tell my story, my truth in order to recover
I’m going to surrender myself to the source to find my meaning and purpose in the universe It doesn’t matter how many times I whine or bitch about how hard this recovery is- it’s going to be worth it- and I’m going to look back on this journey and will be glad I took my time and didn’t try to jump any steps to get to where I’m supposed to be
Nuestra canción suena en la radio y el recuerdo de nuestra corta aventura de amor regresa me pierdo en nostalgia y remordimientos cómo es que una conversación de música se volvió en unos de mis cuentos más dolorosos de amor Cómo es que la vergüenza y culpabilidad de nuestro cuento de infidelidad todavía me persigue en sueños y me hace sentir mal quizás no fue tu intención causarme un infierno de trauma Quizás debería superarte porque fuistes un desperdicie de mi tiempo Pero a lo mejor es tiempo de perdoname y entender que hay algo de sanar quizás contar nuestro cuento es la llave para recuperar y poder enfocarme en el futuro que estoy construyendo
The ME from June of 2014 sends me a message and asking, where are you? I tell her, life didn’t go as planned-you’re divorced and looking for a place for your ex but your kids are thriving-your oldest son has his driver’s license and is on his last semester Of accounting at Athens Tech- Your middle son will graduate from high school this year- and your baby is now taller than you and becoming his own person You’re working 2 jobs and you’re a citizen now and you’ve been to therapy to learn healthier coping mechanisms- you even drive now-you’re independent as fuck and live life on your own terms you’ve even been to Peru twice- You’re learning to follow your intuition and how use discernment in your choices in how you live your life- you’ve discovered your values underneath everything society brainwashed into you and at the end of the day all you want be is a good mom and a good person that’s the extent of your life’s purpose- now that we know who we are our next step is to plan the future we want- we’ll keep on thriving girl-you were the go getter and determined woman in me Even among one of my greatest depressions You still got up and followed your passions- And you laid the foundation-we’ll be okay-I promise I’ll make you proud of me- Love patty
the outline of her body in the middle of the road- told the most tragic of stories she wasn’t looking when she crossed the street she was lost in her thoughts and the driver speeding didn’t see her and splat went her body death came quickly to her her last thought was mission accomplished but the world thought another victim of an unexpected and tragic circumstance
in my literary war chest lies a lifetime of love failures, insecurities about motherhood and confusion about my identity in my literary war chest lies unfiltered thoughts about grief for everything I never was and potential unfulfilled in my literary war chest lies the answers to how I survived Catastrophe after catastrophe- In my literary war chest lies proof of my strength and resilience in the worst of times
heroines go bravely up on stage and vomit out their feelings–pic is courtesy of my friend Amber Murphey
As I let go of my limiting beliefs, I grieve the woman I used to be so insecure and unsure of herself so hesitant to take control and power Overthinking and catastrophizing constantly it held me back from living the life of my dreams- Jealousy and envy filled me up Scrolling the professional and personal successes of others on social media Thinking, “that could have been me” and giving too much important to the opinions of others wondering constantly- “are they judging me?” It was an toxic story I told myself since the age of 16 and it continued on and on until one day in my middle age I exploded and decided to fight my inner critic and challenge everything I thought was wrong with me slowly I learned to turn my story around Slowly I went from victim to heroine
on the shitty days, get a baseball bat and take pics
not every day can be filled with peace, calm, joy or excitement Some days are absolutely shitty and depressing Some days it’s hard to get up in the morning without screaming fuck repeatedly on your way to work Some days are overwhelming to push through as hormones and emotions fuck you up Some days are for questions your life choices over and over again allowing doubt and insecurity to cloud you its accomplice self invalidation Some days are for getting up only to look forward to the end of it when you can sleep with the hope for a better day
it’s okay to make mistakes-it’s part of being human
I almost drowned in a whirlpool of shame today because I made a mistake because I’m an imperfect human but I breathe in deeply self compassion and grace and accept this is a small blunder in my life and it shouldn’t take up too much space in my mind And I needed to be a friend to myself Understand I won’t always be flawless- Afterall I’m only mortal
me and the evil Christmas Tree invading my writing space
As I sit here squished in my writing space because the damn Christmas tree is taking up the other side of the room, I still feel incredibly blessed and fortunate that I’m writing this post about how the 11th year of blogging was. To still be here telling my story though this platform with the most incredible followers is a true blessing. To the many people who have been supportive of me as I vomit out some of the cringiest and craziest shit, y’all are the real MVPs. I feel so encouraged and loved by every like or comment. I would say that it was a low key year because I didn’t experiment as much as I wanted to. What I did do is tell my story from January of 2022 through December of 2022 with my poetry along with my translated poems from my early writing days. I’ve translated a total of 215 pages of poetry from 1997 to 2004. It’s been a challenge for sure but it was important for me to take on this project because it allows me to reconnect with my first language in a creative way. Also, my main purpose for taking on this project is because I’d love for my parents and other Spanish speaking relatives in Peru to be able to read my poetry. I’d even started putting some of these poems on tik tok which has been somewhat of an interesting experiment considering I don’t know what I’m doing and still figuring out the best way to create content there. I guess one could say that I’m passionate about telling my story. Here’s my tiktok handle if y’all want to check it out: https://www.tiktok.com/@lagringachola81
Another new thing I did this year is start using my real name on this blog and across all of my social media. After my divorce, aka, my liberation day, I was finally able to let go of my pseudonym Eliza Dalton and use my real name Patty Tacuri. So, hi everyone, my name is Patty and I have issues. I love to use that opening line at open mic. Lol.
hi, it’s me Patty, your little piece of heaven or hell—lol
I’ve also been going to open mic at my local pub and it’s helped me connect with other poets which has helped me grow as a writer and poet. Being up there on that stage sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself has felt incredibly empowering and healing. I’m grateful to the Athens Word of Mouth community who’s been so open and receptive to whatever trauma laden or angry poem I decide to read that night.
me at open mic on December 6,2023 -photo from Athens Word of Mouth
As to what kind of blog content I have planned for 2024, I plan to leave the format as it is in telling my story of 2023 and including the translated pieces in between those poems. I hope that I can do more collaborations and review some more poetry books. I don’t have much more planned than that but who knows, sometimes my crazy mind comes up with the most off the wall ideas and an unexpected playlist or an essay about some kind of trauma happens. I know that in 2024, I want to be more open and vulnerable in telling my story and how my recovery journey has been going. We’ll see what happens. I can tell you that this blog is my happy place and something that keeps me going when my depression wants to get the better of me. Planning blog content this year has kept me grounded more times than I can count this year especially with some of the big emotions that have come up with the major life events I’ve had. It’s become part of my recovery process from mental illness and a safe space for me to be honest and vulnerable. Also, since I’m such a main character now, haha, I decided to give y’all a preview about what’s to come next year in telling my story. I’m calling it the twelve days of Patty starting on December 20th. Again, I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my crazy and sometimes cringe poetry. To my fellow bloggers, poets,and storytellers-my message for you is to keep going! Your art and stories are important!
I’m tired of same repetitive compliments You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying” you’re BEAUTIFUL but never in my life have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent, or have I been told that I inspire poetry? and old lonely me would entertain these flimsy lust or love possibilities kept my standards low to keep my bed warm and to escape my chronic emptiness but after almost a year of solitude my standards have been raised to the ceiling and now I’m protective of my energy anyone who wants to get near me will have to make a solid effort write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks
prefiero un adiós honesto y con dignidad que la farsa que estamos viviendo prefiero terminar este cuento de dolor donde tú finges ser mi principe azul y yo finjo ser la princesa que tu tienes que salvar lo único que estamos haciendo es evitar lo inevitable admitir que lo de nosotros no va a ningun lado Admitir nuestra incompatibilidad y convertir nuestro cuento de amor en un cuento de amistad
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self- And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity and vulnerability I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless, Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
Life on the BPD 