las dudas de mi capacidad como madre me llenaba con inseguridad y me robaba mi sueño Quizas debi ser mas madura, mas estable, mas exigente todos tenían consejos y comentarios acerca de mí mil y uno errores porque mis hijos eran como yo marchando al ritmo de su propio tambor pero después de 24 años de ser madre solté las opiniones y juzgamientos de todos yo se que he sido y sigo siendo una buena porque aunque mis hijos no fueron criados en mansiones o con lujos siempre tuvieron lo mejor de mi y eso siempre fue suficiente
only tacos have an invitation to my heart…always and forever
On days like today, I feel too wild, too untamed to be loved, to be handled by anyone I feel like too much and I won’t find anyone who’s enough and I wonder if I’ll really be alone forever because right now that’s what my future looks like and it’s not me trying to diss any potential love candidates it’s me acknowledging how much of an earthquake, a hurricane, a tsunami I can be and even though I’ve done the work to tame my inner demons It still feels like there is still so much work left to do before I feel confident enough to invite anyone else into my chaos
My middle name is Elizabeth. I’m not sure why my parents chose this middle name other than the fact that it was the most generic white sounding name easy to pronounce and a few cousins and one aunt had this middle name. I was never been attached to it until my 30s when I took the shortened version of it, “Eliza” and unintentionally chose this as my alter ego and later on as a pseudonym for my writing. After the great depression of 2016 and 2017, followed what I now called the “great manic episode of 2018” in which Eliza first appeared. During that time, I did many unhealthy and toxic things like go on an array of dating apps, drink heavily, and just indulge in these terrible and self destructive behaviors.
Eliza in 2018
I used Eliza as the profile name for those dating apps and also, when I started blogging again in 2019. After much therapy and introspection, I’ve determined that Eliza is my shadow side, my alter ego that’s been much needed to deal with my depression, my anger, my madness-basically the worst of my mental illness. She was much needed to be able to deal when my emotions got overwhelming and I didn’t know how to keep going. I’ll say that while she’s caused much mischief, as I’ve started to recover from mental illness, she’s been instrumental in healing. I’ve learned to used this side of me to do badass and awesome things like conquer my driving phobia, learn to swim, travel to my homeland, write rage poetry, and perform at open mic.
me using Eliza’s confidence to perform
As time passed and I recovered more and more, I learned that eventually, I’d get to integration of self and I’d had to let go of her. Well, sort of. It took a while to get to the integration of self and this took many steps (I’ll write more about this in another blog post). The last step to get to my integration where I would become my most authentic self was my divorce which was 6 months ago. I knew as soon that afternoon after my divorce was finalized, I’d have to let go of Eliza, as a pseudonym, an alter ego, a protective entity to protect me. That afternoon, I switched all of my social media profiles and my two blogs to my real name.
meet integrated Patty-integrated and empowered
It was a very scary thing to do but a much needed one to finish this process of integration I started a few years ago. It was hard because for so long I hung onto this part of me that had gotten through the roughest of times and also, using my real name everywhere was extremely uncomfortable but I had to do it. I’m not going to lie and say that Eliza is completely gone because she’s not but she’s integrated into who I am now and I no longer use her as an excuse when my anger gets the best of me and a rage poem comes out. The best way to put it is that I’ve fully accepted that she’s a part of Patty but no longer controls me, defines me or is even the worst of me. She just is. I’ve learned the past few years how to manage this part of me in a much healthier manner that’s been productive and helpful to me in achieving my goals. Here are three poems I’ve written about her:
shout out to these folks who were there for Eliza when no one else was….hahaha
Eliza and Patty
If you’re gonna love Patty-you’re going to have to live with Eliza She’s the dark and loud side of me I try to keep her at bay , I try to ignore her But then something angers me and she appears I used to loathe her and say-hey, that’s not me-but now I accept She’s always been a part of me She makes me brave and strong-she makes me crazy and creative I haven’t had writers block since I’ve stop trying to suppress her And while it’s embarrassing that I have an alter ego She was necessary for progress and growth
10/13/22
Shadow
my shadow waits and waits to be integrated she’s been patient long enough she wants me to feel the true power of being whole she’s stayed too long in the sidelines as I called her “bad” and a “complete stranger” and I was ashamed of her and at times she jolted me and came out during my bouts of impulsivity or my super angry poetry and now I finally understand she’s me Well the part within me I hate to acknowledge but I’m no longer afraid of her and understand her and am ready for her to be acknowledged and take her rightful place within She will no longer be treated like a dirty mistress Nah, she’ll rule like a queen and I’ll feel whole and empowered
11/26/22
I run with my shadow
my transformation and rebirth meant giving voice to my shadow who’s vindictive, petty, and mean I’ve never really allowed her to breathe much less be seen and now she’s almost everywhere- taking space in uncomfortable spaces learning she’s not bad- she just needed attention and to feel valued I’ve finally accepted she’s an important part of me who needs to be heard, seen and loved
women are recognized all over the world today but none of us are equal we still have to fight the same bullshit every day if we’re human and show emotion, we’re labeled crazy or dramatic if we want to show off our bodies, we’re labeled slutty or conceited if we don’t give in to our partners because they’re “in the mood” we are called prudes, frigid bitches or worse, we feel obligated to give in to avoid being raped it we’re educated and try to succeed in our careers men are intimidated by us and try hard to dim our light and if we are loud and take up space we are labeled as too much and abandoned it’s like as much as the media try to paint a picture of equality it’s all a fucking lie because in my 42 years on this earth I haven’t lived anywhere where my existence is valued as much as man’s
I wrote this poem in March of 2023. I guess I was angry that day. Lol.
ask me how I self medicated during the height of the pandemic
I’m still salty about how you quarantined assholes treated us essential workers looking down on us, treating us like the plague making judgy statuses about we were all subpar I hope Karma got to some of you and you didn’t just get COVID one time but you got it three or four times I hope y’all got a lifetime of insomnia and cholesterol problems you have to take pills for the rest of your pathetic lives I hope y’all got a guilty conscience and life fucked you over and over again
Trapped in this self made prison- Trapped in what I thought was the American Dream /but in reality is the immigrant nightmare Trapped in my mom’s life Trapped under a heavy blanket of strength I continue to cloak myself in Trapped in a suburban hell of family and responsibilities Trapped because I wasn’t patient enough, wasn’t independent enough to build the life I truly wanted And instead settled for a mediocre one Trapped because of my fear of being lonely a fear that has chained me to a heavy present without any hope for the future
my anger walks in and I feel an earthquake within and I become the saltiest bitch Writing poetry about anyone who’s wronged me but then again it is entertaining Seeing how mean and petty I can be It’s not like I’m vindictive or seeking out revenge most of these new angry poems won’t be shared with the world it will be kept inside the pages of my notebooks and journals I just need to let it out and scream Fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, fuck the world, fuck everything Before I take it out on anybody before I post something stupid and cringy I’ll regret later before I allow the world to know how I’m burning
Alone in my solitude I am again- trying to get through My bout of crippling loneliness When all I want to do is disappear- and escape from the life I created The picture perfect life where everyone and everything seems to fit in an perfect puzzle It’s a imperfect perfection That’s slowly killing me, breaking parts of my sanity, Parts of the real me- where I understand henrik Ibsen’s protagonists
Sometimes I’m like fuck this healing journey can I just go back to the woman I used to be the woman who invited and welcome chaos in the woman who needed a man to make her feel complete the woman who bought into society’s conditioning about who she should be can I just be her for a day or two To get some perspective as to why this journey is so important to me
He came into my life on a cold february night- He decided to make a dramatic entrance on my 24th birthday He didn’t mean to steal my thunder as he tried to make his entrance-a month beforehand But fortunately the doctors stopped his almost too sudden arrival But that cold February night- was the right time for him I wanted to go the natural route but he had other plans with the horrible pain he caused EPIDURAL PLEASE-LIKE RIGHT NOW OR I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GETTING THIS CHILD OUT Within minutes he was out and once again I was in love but this time with the life I created
I stumble and fall all the time but no one knows about it I’m great at masking my pain with makeup, pretty dress, and statuses about how I’m living my best life when in reality, I fantasize about disappearing into a black hole because life feels like a terrible chore that messes with my sensitive soul
I fall in love and obsessed over these concepts over who I should be, over who I should love, over who I should mirror I read and read books on BPD, mental health, and trauma constantly I take advice from influencers, poets, and psychologists on social media Seriously thinking this is how I heal, this is how I become healthy but that’s a lie- while everything I do helps me I need to listen to my intuition more I need to trust myself more and acknowledge I’m doing enough and come to an understanding I am on my heroine’s journey that’s unique only to me honor my truth within me, accept it, and that’s how I begin to really heal
Life on the BPD 