it’s the wild wild west inside my head it’s where my demons decide to come out to play they dance with traumatic memories making my fears and insecurities come out to the surface it’s the wild wild west inside my head being insane becomes my personality and aesthetic scaring away any potential love candidates it’s been a long time since I held someone’s hand much less been in someone’s bed It’s the wild wild went inside my head And I wonder when will the demons get tired and leave so maybe one day I’m not so jaded so maybe one day I give someone the chance to take me out on a date
In bridging the gaps of my story that have remained unresolved every story, every poem leads to pieces of healing and closure I’ve been desperately search for since I can remember Whatever my child self , my teenage self couldn’t voice back then My middle age self brings to the surface and while at times it’s difficult and terrifying it’s needed in the process of healing and evolving
take slow breaths and wash your hands you’re fine, you’re okay in fact you’re more than okay you’re fucking wonderful darling this moment of intense grief and anxiety reminds you that you’re human and you can’t always play the role of strong and resilient Queen in front of the world sometimes you have to pause, calm down, breathe and let everything out be vulnerable, be soft this is how you start to feel integrated and whole
erotic stories from my ancestors are still seen in the caves and uncovered in archaeological digs people intertwined in every imaginable position- showing their sexual pleasure shamelessly- it makes the American and Colonizer catholic girl in me blush and say, damn, the Incas were some kinky people
Happy 13 years of blogging to ME! This blog is now as old as my youngest child. And just like him, it’s had some growing pains as well. So, just to recap, here’s how it started:
In year 12, I kept the same format and kept telling my story through poetry and so far it’s still working. Year 12 has been somewhat tricky and challenging given some extenuating personal circumstances so I didn’t experiment with the blog the way I had wanted to. However, I will say that I am glad I’m still here telling my story my way. At times when things have looked bleaked for me and I just about wanted to throw in the towel and kind of give up, creating content for this blog has kept me grounded and kept me going through my darkest of days . I also did add a couple of more playlists this year which captures my life the last couple of years:
I’m so very thankful for my followers and anyone who reads my little blog. It means the world to me that a lot of you are all still here following my chaotic storytelling with one day posting about wanting to be a “yung gravy’s groupie” and then a few days later posting about “contemplating life at the convent”. I feel so loved by an online community who finds me entertaining and accepts me for the often chaotic mess that I can be. I’m very grateful for y’all and so humbled by your support. If I wasn’t so medicated, I’d cry tears of gratitude.
Here’s one of my most favorite poems I wrote this year:
With all that being said, I’m not sure what the future looks like for the blog. I know that in 2025, I wanted to rebrand and rename it because I feel like I’ve outgrown the whole “I have BPD, and that’s the most interesting thing about me” storyline. I was going to do it this year, but well, life happened, and I just didn’t have time. With all that being said, I am going to give y’all a peek into what 2024 looked like for me with the 12 days of Patty: Poetry Edition starting on the 20th of this month. Here’s hoping that I continue with this little passion project of mine that’s saved me more times than I can count from falling into the abyss. Here’s manifesting a year of growth and love for the blog, for me, and for anyone who’s reading this post. Also, if y’all have any suggestions for a new name for the blog, let me know. And as always, I am open to collaborations with any content creators out there who feel like my blog would be a good fit for them. Speaking of collaborations, I was most fortunate to be interviewed by my friend J.R Barner for his newsletter and here’s a link to his newsletter for y’all to sign up for it:https://www.jrbarner.com/
and read his newsletter that I highly recommend. So to end this blog post, I’ll leave you with a link to one of my more hopeful poems about why I continue to tell my story.
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
my family is quiet about their sorrows they put up a mask of strength and resilience its not that they hide their tragedies they talk about it openly but heal with energy from the trees, with their busy and monotonous routines on their farm with the understanding that terrible things happen in their lives and finding resilience in the most extenuating of tragedies in order to move forward
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
sorry for sleeping with your husband I was raised better than to covet my neighbor’s spouse I knew better than to listen to my impulsive and drunk hormones and while I could say I was caught up in the moment of music and alcohol it’s not an excuse for the sin I committed it’s a misdeed that I still regret 22 years later because I hate to think that maybe I was the final straw that broke up your marriage because guilt sits at the bottom of my stomach wondering if I wrecked an otherwise happy home and ruined an epic love story and if it eases your mind karma did get me in the end I married the wrong person and suffered through toxic codependency and polyamory Eventually having a mental breakdown because of how overwhelming it all got and ending up divorced with me alone without any romantic prospects I learned 22 years too late what is done secretly and illicitly in the heat of the moment comes back later to haunt you comes back to haunt your subconscious in dreams until you’re ready to acknowledge it and make amends
my culture is not up for appropriation, my culture is not up for colonizers to profit off from it I can hear my ancestors cursing in their graves haunting white people in their dreams over the atrocity they’re committing it’s blasphemous to use their most sacred ceremony for the business of “healing” why must white people in 2023 continue to steal from the indigenous community? it’s the same white people who forced assimilation on us the same white people who made us give up our religion and traditions the same white people who shamed us for our indigenous traits and the reason I don’t know how to speak quechua today why can’t the white man stay in his lane instead of trying to profit from our culture and the insecurities of others how is it possible that in this day and age these so called enlightened and elitist whites are still fucking over the indigenous community?
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
Life on the BPD 