Here is the English Version of this poem:
Mixed Blessing
la culpabilidad que Γ©l siente es demasiado
por eso Γ©l rechaza su propia sangre
el no puede enfrentar los aΓ±os preciosos que el perdiΓ³
y la bendiciΓ³n que el abandono
Here is the English Version of this poem:
Mixed Blessing
la culpabilidad que Γ©l siente es demasiado
por eso Γ©l rechaza su propia sangre
el no puede enfrentar los aΓ±os preciosos que el perdiΓ³
y la bendiciΓ³n que el abandono

Iβm 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,
Iβd become the person theyβd want me to be,
cutting away pieces of my authenticity-
Iβd 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 Iβm done sacrificing myself for others
Itβs 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
Iβm 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
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

The princess and the queen live within me
And they each serve a purpose
the princess cares about the men in her life
Sheβs soft and submissive, kind and generous
Sheβll do anything for love, sheβs loyal
But sometimes the princess get taken advantage of
And the queen steps in
The queen is determined, she is strong and opinionated
And ambitchous and bossy
Sheβll do anything to protect herself and her kids
and gives zero fucks about anyone else
And lately I’m trying to find a perfect balance
of embracing these two beings who live within me
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/03/numb/
nada me fascina, nada me emociona
siento un vacio dentro de mi
que no se puede llenar
mi mami me dice βΓ©chale ganasβ
pero quiero rendirme a mi depresion
y nunca despertar
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

Some days I canβt deal with the boredom and restless
It all leads to chronic feelings of emptiness
And I asked myself
Is it time for another depression spell?
And Iβm annoyed by me, by everything
I attend to whatever I think my brain and my soul needs
Sometimes itβs music, sometimes itβs sunshine
Sometimes itβs writing
Sometimes nothing appeases the Gods of BPD
And I just to deal with my emotional instability
I wish for at least a week of tranquility within
Instead of a pendulum of ever changing mood swings
When will I finally get calm and peace?
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/30/poesia-pequenas-riquezas/
he watches her as she sleeps
and the emotions she stirs up in him
this was supposed to be a casual agreement
where only each otherβs primal needs got met
sheβs not easy or convenient
she has way too many issues
and yet here he is starting to love her
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

Old insecurities come to visit me again,
they shake up my newly acquired confidence
they tell me Iβm not smart enough and Iβll never be truly loved
They tell me the only thing I have going for me is how sexy I can be
Otherwise Iβm a waste of a person because of my bpd
And I try to shut it all down and not once again drown
Because I have made so much progress and have come so far
Only to once again fight an anxiety and depression war
but itβs daunting and exhausting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again, trying to calm down my brain
from negative and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self-love
I wrote this in May of 2022.

Overturning my right to choose feels like a slap to my face
it is my american dream of liberty turned into a nightmare
of reproductive imprisonment
because of my 3 unplanned pregnancies, because of my 4 IUDs
birth control pills and a patch
because I am a woman scared for my niece, for my future granddaughters
scared for the generations of women who come after me
and I sit here at a complete loss for words and understanding
at a loss for how this could happen
a fundamental right ripped from right before our eyes
while we were distracted with the modernity of society
a fundamental right ripped from us that will take us back to the 1950βs

Iβm constantly working without any breaks or any hints of rest
because I thrive on being productive
Iβm happiest when Iβm filled with purpose
and I donβt stop because it keeps me moving forward
it keeps me from not feeling anything
but at what cost?
my hips and knees scream at me
and Iβm addicted to energy drinks
my mind tells me to slow down, rest,
and process my emotions
but Iβd rather keep hustling, keep moving
rather than to deal with the intensity of my feelings
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

People say I shouldnβt give up on love
and itβs really just my bad luck
But how do I explain
How love makes me insane
Itβs not the men I pick
Itβs really me, me, me
Iβll become the version they want me to be
thinking theyβll stay with me-
behave, swallow my words, hide my anger,
implode on myself in the privacy of my journal
but keep my mask of sweet princess on-
but this never last for long
something always happens
itβs just a matter of when
when will I get tired of hiding who I am
and start being erratic and crazy
When will they get tired of my bullshit
and decided to leave
and almost always, this ends up
as an emotional catastrophe for me
so Iβve come up with a solution
Iβm going to make my newfound solitude
a haven, a sanctuary to fall into
give myself as much time as I need
to enjoy the gift on my own company
understanding that this isnβt an ending
but rather a brand new beginning for me
to write and edit my own unconventional love story
I wrote this poem in June of 2022 inspired by my youngest son.

At Tae Kwon Do class my son kicks
with a determined look on his face
Itβs strength and resilience inherited from me
and his ancestors
Itβs a competitive spirit passed down
generation after generation
from people that had to fight to compete
to survive and it fill me with excitement and pride
because even at ten my son shows traits
from his ancestral warriors
I wrote this poem in October of 2022 inspired by my middle son.

Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
Iβve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
Iβve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know weβre both on borrowed time
and I donβt want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today
Happy Mother’s Day! I wrote this poem in April of last year inspired by my sons.

finding someone to love used to be a priority
until love burned me one too many times
besides Iβve always had 3 somebodies to love
that always deserved all of my attention
with them Iβm never alone
with them there will always be inspiration
with them my love overflows
at this point, it would be useless for anyone to compete
with this complete kind of love
Happy international Nurse’s Day to all the nurses and especially my favorite nurse, my sister. We’ve had a complicated relationship through most of my life but within the past few years, our relationship has gotten a lot better. I have more to say about this but that calls for a longer blog post in the future. Today, I want to honor her for being the awesome human being that she is. Below is a picture of us at a concert we went in July of 2022 and a poem I wrote in December of 2021 when she turned 47.

To My Sister On Her 47th birthday
you’re 3 years away 50
but still look like you’re in your 30’s
Has anyone told you how amazing you are?
Have our parents loved you out loud?
I’ve always admired you for your fortitude and resilience
but wish for you to have peace and an opportunity to be soft
I get it though –
It is hard to be soft in
a society that expects you resemble a tower of strength,
where you take care of everyone first and put yourself last
It was something you had to learn at a young age
you used to be the
Villian in my book at times,
but lately I think of you as the victim
and the victor_
Youβre a victim of life-
the victim because of the pressure
you were put under for being the oldest
the victim for being a woman of color
in a racist and sexist society
But you’re also the victor-
the victor never giving up-
no matter how fucked up life got for you
the victor for facing shit head on without any fucks
and with an intimidating confidence (maybe thatβs why I was jealous)
oh sister of mine,
on your 47th year-I hope.
you get to sit and enjoy
the wonderful life youβve created
I wrote this poem in May of 2022 inspired by this “woke” white woman. Lol.

youβre nothing but a selfish and narcissistic attention whore
constantly craving the limelight
by posting long and stupid ridden Facebook statuses
about the βtruthβ of the injustice you see
injecting yourself as the voice of minorities
it all unveils your world of deep seated insecurities
and the irony of all of this is should you know better
since youβre a therapist
but apparently youβre still dumb as fuck
It doesn’t matter how many degrees you have-you still reek of ignorance