the future of me is not written yet I have to understand that all I can do is write for her who will still question her existence or why things happened the way they did or what the fuck happened to her I know myself too well it doesn’t matter how far I’m in my self discovery journey I’ll always have questions Its my insatiable curiosity I can only hope that the future me has leaned into self love More than ever before and still understands she and her kids are her top priorities Anyone else is expendable in her little universe of love
I swipe and swipe on anyone who looks appetizing, on anyone who looks interesting and then the messages swarm in- I must be honey to the bees who buzz and buzz around me and I’m not impressed Hey, beautiful says the guy with his catch of day in his profile pic – Are you DTF? Says the zoomer almost young enough to be my son-ew-blocked insert a pretentious line with a quote From a Wallace Stevens poem , it’s the Genxer who’s gross-ethically non monogamous- I must not have been paying attention while I was swiping And the messages keep coming And I’m overwhelmed by the amount of them and underwhelmed by quality of them and I’m nauseated and want to vomit at the thought of giving any of these men an ounce of my energy maybe a past version of me would have given them a chance but this new and empowered version of me Nah, none of them seem worthy so I deactivate my profile and uninstall the app Understand I’m too evolved to find love online and put my trust in the universe that one day The right guy will find me and I won’t even have to try and until that time comes, I’ll keep being an independent Peruvian Queen Focusing on myself and my kids without any mediocre energy trying to intervene
It’s time to say goodbye to the notion of love I know I’ve said this more times than I can count but this time, I really mean it lately, I prefer my life of solitude the one where I’m my own hero, my own savior And I don’t wait for anyone to validate my worth it’s so calm, it’s so peaceful it’s actually bullshit the romantic girl in me can’t be cured
the breakup was always a larger than life event in my mind because of the catastrophic pain it caused because it was someone I thought could be my forever so when he gave me the electronic pink slip I used it as a catalyst for change I broke away with my idea of what made me attractive and accessible to men, and instead, I focused on what made me feel good about myself and learned to accept myself as the complicated and crazy woman that I am I finally understood I was always a Queen Underneath layers of princess skin Armed myself with poetry and confidence that breakup changed me like previous breakups did however, this one was the key to the transformation I needed to become the woman I was always meant to be
I listen to the universe without a hint of defiance I listen carefully and with intention to understand my next blessing and the message is, continue to be vulnerable with the world you’re leaving a blueprint for the next one keep leaning into your craziest and most authentic self there’s someone somewhere who’s paying attention and may be falling in love with you one poem at a time but too scared to make a confession
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence accepting we were always meant to be friends no longer harboring resentment about our failed story of romance Focusing on the long road ahead of us Divorced and raising kids in a world full of oxymorons, in a world that will try to make them fit into unrealistic expectations of what it means to be human me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence putting away our differences and any conflicts And putting our childrens’ best interest first understanding they’re the best thing to come out of the failure of us
even the spambot body shames me and I hate my body all over again wanting to eviscerate that pudge that’s been there since after my first son hiding the flappy wings of my upper arms wondering why God gave me my stupid curves I’m constantly trying to hide and every excess of skin I see in the mirror That makes me wish I’d cease to exist why can’t I be a skinny white girl? instead of this pudgy mess of a woman with body dysmorphia who still uses the scale to determine her WORTH
I have a bad habit of making poetry out of almost anything it’s annoying, it’s cringe, and downright embarrassing at times how shameless I can be it teethers between the line of genius and insanity This monster of creativity of mine from trauma to my kids to childhood memories To the latest villain in my story to office supplies To my dreams to the trees to the clouds To my kroger apron to energy drinks To that ex from my 20s No one and nothing is saved from being used as a fountain of inspiration for my creativity Sometimes it’s a curse, sometimes it’s a blessing Most of the time, it’s just downright entertaining
in my island of solitude, I drift further and further away from romantic love when I’ve tried to invite others to my island they always left, and it drove me into hysterics making a catastrophic emotional mess of me so now I float alone on my island of solitude and have erected walls of strength and confidence around it I will not allow another soul to break them down only to later leave on a whim, leaving me in pieces once again
abuela Gaby sends me hints that she wants her story to be told but I can barely remember her she tells me to still try with the bits I have I ask her for patience I want to get it right, I want to do her story justice she tells me, “hemos vivido vidas paralelas” las palabras te vendrán fácilmente pronto” and adds, “es como vas a sanar, es como empiezas a entenderte” and I don’t understand what it means, I don’t understand her interest in me now and how I became a messenger of her story, “ni siquiera pensé que me querías Abuela, you always pulled my hair” and she replies, “es que era duro ver nacer y crecer a alguien que se parecía tanto a mi, me traía demasiados sentimientos encontrados, porque sabía que tu espiritu seria difícil de dominar” and while I try my best to comprehend what she tells me – it’s hard to wrap my head around her message and all of the conflicting stories about her from my family so I’m going to make it a point to find out her story through her letters and pictures- abuela, I want to do your story justice I can’t rush through this yours is one of the most important stories I’ll share in my lifetime
my craving for love has brought me to celestial heights of heaven and the rock bottom of hell at 40,I finally learned I suffered from the worst affliction –a love addiction– and time after time it tore me down something had to change, something had to give or else I’d end up jumping off a cliff so I gave up love for a while Until I could understand why it made me crazy Until I knew how to not make myself a victim in every single one of my love stories
I had to give up a lot of fun things in my life to get to integration an alcohol dependency, a shopping addiction, Relationships and sex- and the last thing was energy drinks This was all for me to become the mom my kids always deserved it was needed for me to meet my higher self who makes decisions with compassion and love Instead of out of ego It was needed for me to start living in the most authentic way possible and while I could dwell on all of the fun things I lost I now look at it as a blessing needed for clarity and to make space for this new version of me who no longer hides her jagged edges for the comfort of others Who loves who she is and no longer Wants to be anyone else Who finds peace in solitude and is no longer scared of it my integration of self costs me many things I was addicted to but it was worth it for the woman I am today for the beautiful life I’m currently living
the compartmentalization of life added a lot to the lore
google makes collages of how I’ve compartmentalize my life throughout the years- next to a pic of me and my ex is a pic of me and my son then a pic of me and my friend for a long time these realities couldn’t exist in one frame- it was blasphemous in my mind for one reality to bleed into another I never understood how this was killing my sense of identity and inner emotional stability That old version of me wanted everything kids, love, sex, fun, drugs, and alcohol to be many different people at the same time mother, vixen, friend, basket case and everything in between to be accepted, to loved and all of this compartmentalization lead to the worst inner chaos and turmoil It was emotional torture I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge until one day I had a mental breakdown because of it
with solitude comes clarity and peace of mind I no longer rely on the actions of words of others to validate my existence I no longer feel like less of a person because of the whims of others with solitude comes an understanding that being alone is the best way for me to succeed in my recovery journey because any extra energy derails me from the woman of worth I’m becoming
breathing without a hint of romance is lonely but freeing it’s a lesson of dialectics I never wanted to learn it’s a lesson necessary for my recovery from BPD it’s not good or bad, it’s what I must do to get better