overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport fast castellano coming from everyone with cumbia in the background machu picchu advertisements everywhere my mind is trying to process everything in real time I’m here, I’m here, I’m here the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9 and didn’t fully appreciate it happy and completely elated euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones to my skin I never thought I’d see it again poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here my beloved Perú the land I left without consent the land I was taught to menospreciar I’m here, I’m here, I’m here and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you mi tierra-once again
the plane slowly takes off and I take flight with it I leave behind past troubles,past trauma and go on an adventure to find healing and the best version of myself
my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for since I could remember- I felt like Alice in Wonderland my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe- taking in the glorious sights and sounds of my birthplace the 32 years away from it didn’t matter the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground that saw my birth and early childhood made me understand there really is no place like home
It’s been 2 years since my BPD diagnosis and some things have changed, some things have remained the same. I still have the same two jobs and still adhere to my strict routine of consistency and routine with exercise, writing, and therapy. I’m still on the same meds for my anxiety and depression. All of that has helped with my continued progress and growth. And I still continue to suffer from major depressive episodes but it’s not as bad as it used to be and here’s a blog I wrote about it recently:
What has changed overall has been me. I remember last year writing about how I was living an authentic life and while that was mostly true, there was still something I had to take care of to make this true, my divorce and telling my youngest son about it. I went back to therapy to navigate these big feelings in actually starting the process and following through and telling my youngest son about it. I’m glad to report, I filed for divorce a couple of months ago and told my son who took it better than I expected. After this, I felt like this major burden of guilt and grief has been lifted off from me. It was hard, really hard to have lied about this part of my life for the past four years to my son and to other family members. Three of those years, I felt like I was leading a double life as I had to be careful not to let one part of my life bleed into the other. It was awful and reflecting back on this, I think this was a major trigger for my mental health breakdown in the summer of 2021. Feeling guilt and shame with the immensity of emotions that comes with BPD is horrible and something I would never wish on my worst enemy.
me and my youngest son on his birthday
Another major thing that happened in year 2 is that I took two trips to my homeland, Peru. The first one was in September of 2022 and the second one was in March of this year. Both times I went, it was amazing and the first trip helped me reconnect with my roots and find a sense of identity I had been searching for all of this time. I hadn’t been back since I was 9 so it had been 32 years since I had been home. It was strange, glorious, amazing and overwhelming at the same time. It felt like I finally found a piece within me that had been missing all of this time.
Finally home after 32 years -September of 2022
The second trip was even better because I took my oldest son who hadn’t been on a plane since he was an infant and we got to visit my dad’s hometown of Oxapampa. I think I’m still processing that trip because it was so special and meaningful to take my son to Peru and show him his and my roots. I’m honestly still processing both trips and I’ll write about both of them later. What I can say is that both trips helped in my healing and recovery process from my BPD symptoms. Before, I was still floundering when it came to trying to establish a stable identity. That changed radically after I came back from my first trip.
me and my oldest son in Oxapampa, Peru in April of this year-the beer in Oxapampa is the BEST EVER-anything else is MID
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
Life on the BPD 