cherry chapstick

Daily writing prompt
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?

With cherry chapstick, I felt like a woman
I felt like a sexy vixen from the telenovelas
even though I was only 9-
and while everyone around me still treated me
like a little girl-
after applying my cherry chapstick
something awakened inside of me
Was it the beginning of puberty?

10/2/22

poetry: Standing Firm (inspired by Conan Gray’s Heather)

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I secretly wish I was Conan Gray

I try on grace and self compassion thinking of the many times
I wanted to be someone else
Mirroring my sister and my best friends to escape from myself
never thinking I was enough-
I even tried to be like my former metamours-
so smart, so pretty, so American
they were placed on pedestals by my exes
so of course I wanted to be like them-
never understood how I never stood a chance
and how nothing I did would matter
my exes always chose them
they were safe,predictable and shared their background
everything I was never going to be
so I chose to embrace who I really am
a woman with a chaotic history who feels everything with a magnitude of intensity
a woman who no longer mirrors others to gain a sense of identity
I now stand firm in the authenticity of my duality
I embrace my God given gift of my creativity and share it shamelessly
there’s no turning back now that I’m fully me
and I no longer care who loves and accepts me

poetry: home

I wrote this poem in September of 2021.

in the thick of my identity crises

I looked for a sense of home,
a sense of identity
in all of the wrong
Places –
man after man
Shopping spree after shopping spree,
drink after drink
all were temporary fixes
for something I never had
a stable home, a true
sense of identity
until one day I realized
these temporary bandaids
were never or will
ever be my home
because that sense of
home, that sense of identity
lies within myself

Poetry: Bilingual

I wrote this in January of 2022.

me at work living that bilingual life

Stuck in between Spanish and English
is a bilingual nightmare
constantly switching between languages
gives me a lifelong jaqueca
and at times I don’t get it right
it’s switching between two identities
Latina or American
it gets hard and confusing at times
but it’s who I am
Hablo con mamá en Español
I speak to my sons in English
Hablo con los pacientes en Español
I speak to my coworkers in English
and to code switch parece una comedia
I’m told that I’m fun and loud en Español
pero soy profesional y reservada in English
eventually I learn to meld
my American and Latina personalities
and I find my most authentic
bilingual and bicultural identity

poetry: Peruvian ME

I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

I still wonder who Peruvian Me would have been-probably not wearing this beanie…lol

if my parents hadn’t chosen america as their new homeland
I wonder who I would’ve been
a woman of priviledge married to a man who loves me for me
or would it have been inevitable for me to turn out as a rebel who’d cause many scandals
would I have take my education more seriously because of the pressure from society and my parents
or would I have still struggled with my ADD and said fuck it
I wonder who Peruvian me would have been if I didn’t have a bilingual and bicultural identity

poetry: no place like home

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

melodramatic Peruvian Energy..jajaja

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

poetry: first grade

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me in 1987 in first grade

in first grade, I learned to be ashamed and embarrassed of who I was,
and where I came from
maybe the nuns were ignorant of the damage they were doing
and since that time I’ve had identity issues
for years, i gave up my language and my heritage in order to fit in-
to have proximity to being an American
but all it did was fuck up my identity
and while I have forgiven the nuns for the damage done
I have a hard time finding compassion for myself
I have a hard time letting go the guilt
For the pain I caused my family
I have a hard time understanding I was just a kid
desperately trying to fit in, to belong, to be accepted
to conform of the standards of being American society fed me

Inti

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

Me enjoying Inti



running in the sun warms my body, warms my thoughts
it invokes my need to worship it like my ancestors
before the colonizers declared it wrong and pagan
but they couldn’t erase my blood and my DNA
and my deep connection to the Sun,
my ancestral GOD
Always bringing me to the surface of gratitude and love


2 Years since my BPD Diagnosis-Part 1: Divorce and reconnecting with my Homeland

my 2023 vibe- Meet Peruvian Queen Barbie

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:

But You Can’t Be Depressed, You’re a Mom

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

to be continued in part two-

Poetry :Religion

I wrote this poem in January of this year

Me at open mic on 6/7/23



My lack of worth of self-esteem allowed me to accept
not even the bare minimum from lovers
as long as they showed any interest in me,
any sign of wanting me, I’d give them my energy
made them the muse of my poetry
put them on a pedestal where I worshiped them like a deity
and made what I mistook for love my religion
thought each one was the one because of my inability to find self-love
it was the version of me who thought the world began and ended
with the love of a man
It was the version of me who didn’t know that alone
I had always been whole, I had always been enough

Legacy

Daily writing prompt
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

me in January performing this poem

I’m used to being the ultimate pushover-
allowing the energy of others to pollute
my energy and take up my time
It was the people pleaser in me who needed to fawn
be easy to get along with and always avoiding conflict,
I’d become the person they’d want me to be,
cutting away pieces of my authenticity-
I’d become easy to digest and swallow
I never valued myself or put myself first
It was learned martyrdom from the women in my family
Internalized misogyny sold to me at a young age
dressed up as selfless acts of love
but I’m done sacrificing myself for others
It’s time to unlearn this toxic way of loving and being
I refuse to pass this down to the next generation
of woman who come after me
I’m here to take up space, roar like a lioness
and pass down a new legacy of self love
that took me 41 years too long to discover

Uncomfortable

Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.

in order to grow, we must lose parts of ourselves that hold us back from reaching our potential

saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
even as I lost her in parts
first came the extra pounds and inches I ran off from the curvy girl who used food as comfort
and for a while a stranger stared at me from the mirror as I wondered where my cleavage went
or how my waistline got so small
then came the spectator and the passenger I lost as I gained confidence and power in sharing my truth, in sharing my art and I became the main character and the driver of my own life
finally I lost the princess who held onto others for safety, who relied on others for acceptance and love-she left on a windy October day when she conquered a phobia that haunted her for 15 years
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
but she couldn’t stay around if I wanted to grow, to evolve, to become the mother my children
always deserved, to become the woman I always wanted to be

Poetry: The Ultimate Queen

I wrote this in December of 2021.

And those flames burn 🔥 😍

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