I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m healing and unraveling at the same time
I’m unraveling the parts of me that no longer fit
in my new narrative
I’m unraveling the ugliness, my vengeful spirit
full of spite and jealousy
talking to it, deconstructing it
cause to live with so much anger and resentment
in my heart is draining
and leaves no room for lovely and hopeful beginnings
The most important invention in your lifetime is…
the world wide web has been an important part of my life story
without it, there wouldn’t have been AOL chat rooms
without AOL chat rooms, I wouldn’t have met the man
who would drastically change my life path at 16
to become a mom at 17
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: My Son Throws His Blocks
otro berrinche y casi pierdo la paciencia
le podría amenazar con la chancla
pero le dejo hacer sus desmadres
tengo que entender que todavía está chiquito
y no tiene otra manera de expresarse
es mejor no repetir la misma historia de trauma
y por el bienestar de él
me armo de amor y compasión
y dejo que sacude su ira hasta que se canse
y se quede dormido
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m so fucking triggered-I can’t see past my tears
when the fuck does this healing journey end
Because this constant confrontation with trauma
leaves me drained and constantly causes chaos
and devastation within me
i wrote this poem in February of 2023.
life is smiling on me once again after a rough start to the new year-
I find myself almost open to new love
and everything’s inspiring me
and my King Joe is back on the screen
and now I got more money on the horizon
I’m feeling this state of euphoria by celebrating each blessing
and looking forward to new and exciting things
new creative endeavors, another trip to my homeland
and maybe even a new muse
It’s February and I feel myself glowing and growing
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Despicable
de palabras a hechos tu no sabes como hacerlo
para ti es más cómodo sentarse esperando
que siempre yo tome toda la iniciativa para mejorarnos
estoy cansada, estoy harta de siempre haciendo todo
mientras tu haces nada-
busco maneras para escapar la baraja cruel
que la vida me mandó
al escoger una pareja que está atado
y cómodo con su miseria
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I reflect a lot on who I was, who I am, and who I will be-
and I’ve reach the conclusion that I’m proud of all three versions of me
Constantly fighting my demons no matter how viciously they came after me
Constantly reinventing and rebuilding myself even when the chaotic earthquakes
of life broke me apart
I reflect on the goddess, the beast in me who always refuses to give up
who continues to get and keep going no matter how hard life tries to break me down
reopening my pandora’s of trauma makes me tear the old version of me apart
makes me revisit parts of myself I’d rather forget
and makes me angry at how my insanity was enabled
I know I should be compassionate, I know I should understand that the past
can no longer hurt me
but -oh-every time I open that pandora’s box of trauma
the fire of self loathing and rage threatens to consume me
and while I could leave that pandora’s box closed-
I have no choice but to open it over and over again
it’s one of the most important parts of my story
Emotional scars need to be ripped open and analyzed
to heal and make sense of who I am now
1/9/24
here’s the english version of this poem:
poetry: charade of love
se que en las mejores relaciones hay monotonía
pero lo que estamos viviendo me llena de ira
me esta volviendo loca,
esto se siento como el fin de nuestro cuento de amor
y los dos somos demasiados cobardes para aceptar
que la vida que hemos construida se está volviendo
una montaña de resentimiento y desilusión
donde estamos atrapados por conveniencia
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
Consorting with this newfound empowerment is overwhelming and lonely at times
I finally understand that never again do I have to depend on a man for anything-
and I breathe a huge sigh of relief
I no longer use them to determine my worth based on whether any of them
pay attention to me
I no longer use them for validation and no longer make myself small
for their ego
I now determined my own self worth and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for
since the age of 15
I always joke around that if I won the lottery that the first thing I would do is get pay for therapy for my parents and siblings. I’d send them self help books and a dbt workbooks. Haha. In actuality, one of the first things I’d do if I won the lottery is quit my second part time job at the grocery store but keep my day job for a while since I am a child of routine. I’d probably proceed to find ways to invest money so my kids could have generational wealth. Perhaps do one of those adult things like hire a financial advisor. I’d also start planning trips with my kids and my parents to Peru. I’d pay for a place for my ex to move into and pay for all of the moving costs. I’d get the braces I’ve always needed. I’d buy friends extravagant gifts and help them with any annoying household expenses they’ve had pending. I’d probably look into taking one of those gourmet cooking courses to learn to cook some fancy ass dishes. I would buy my oldest and middle sons cars. In the long term, I would plan to buy houses in the States and in Oxapampa, Peru. My long term plan would be to take my youngest with me for 2 months to Oxapampa and write in my little house in the mountains. Oh and of course, I’d buy a shitload of poetry and self help books along with pretty journals to write in.
I wrote a version of this poem in 2005. It was about my frustration with the relationship I was in at the time.
I’m hanging on to my last thread of sanity
trying to accommodate to our new reality
I know monotony happens even in the best relationships
but this feels like the death of our love
Where did your yearning for me go?
You used to worship me and call me Godly
now I can barely get you to look at me
and when I say anything, you call me crazy
so I’m going to swallow my words
and pretend I’m okay with this charade of love
I think one of the best things about having a family of your own is making up your own traditions. One of my favorite traditions I have with my boys is watching “About a Boy” every Thanksgiving while we wait for dinner or afterwards. I started this tradition in 2008 when my oldest was 10 and my middle son was 3. The first time we watched it we had just moved into our new place and me and their dad hadn’t gotten around to getting internet and hardly had any furniture so we had to make do with the DVDs we had on hand to entertain the boys. For whatever reason, we watched that movie a few times. I remember watching it for the first time with my boys and all of these questions about mental health my then 3 year old had and how concerned he was for the mom in the movie. It was just such a sweet moment for me. A couple of years ago, my oldest son gave me the blu-ray dvd version of the movie to upgrade it from my old DVD copy. I love the message in the movie about how “no man is an island” and we all need community from friends and family to make life enjoyable and worth living.
My other favorite tradition involves me and my middle son. I had him on my 24th birthday so we are birthday twins. When our birthday week rolls around, I decide to get desserts almost every day of the week for me and him to celebrate. Sometimes, we do share with our other family members when we feel like it. I started this tradition 4 years ago. We also always get two different cakes of our choice for our actual birthdays. I plan to keep this tradition around as long as he lives with me and/or lives close to me.
here’s the english version of this poem:
poetry: two pink lines
esa segunda raya rosada fue el Karma llegando cobrando su deuda
porque yo reze que mis enemigos de enfermen con COVID
y ahora moribunda en mi cama con una fiebre alta
le prometo al universo que será más cauta en mis palabras
y no dejaré que mi ira me controle
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
To raise my children with empathy and respect for humanity
is hard in times like these
in times when everyone is selfish and individuality is praised
In times when showing emotions is seen as week
and there is still a stigma about seeking therapy
but somehow, my firstborn got the message
that money and selfishness are not everything
and that finding empathy and compassion for his fellow humans
is much more valuable than the idea of individualism and materialism
society tries to sell him
Life on the BPD 