I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/17/poesia-inquieta/
I am restless and unsettled
realizing you never loved me
I was just another girl to you
nothing special, nothing meaningful
just someone temporary to pass the time with
I’m growing tired of this repetitive story
Another love that expires when I ask
for something more
Another story that starts off with so much promise
only to end up as another tragedy
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/02/poetry-man-of-my-destiny/
Por fin conocí al hombre hecho para mi
pero es un catastrophe, el casado
ser su amante sería un pecado
pero me pregunto y pregunto
si el me desea
si el sueña conmigo
si el anhela un beso mió
I wrote this in January of 2022.
I’m at another one of life’s crossroads
trying not to make a turn for the worst
don’t stop but don’t go too fast
I want my momentum to last
I slow down and observe
and carefully ride life’s curves
and this time I really listen
and reach out to close friends
I’m not okay but I will be okay
soon I’ll find my way
I’m still grasping for a stable sense of self
and learning how to love and accept myself
I wrote this in January of 2022.
my real diagnosis should be “failure at love”
childhood trauma gave me abandonment issues
teenage trauma cemented it and added identity issues
combined with chronic emptiness
I couldn’t stand the constant void within
so I chased love trying to fill it
constantly sought out validation from men
to stop feeling ugly and alone
I’ve used them and they’ve used me
as band aids for our mutual loneliness
and when I start to feel sure of their love
it suddenly disappears
and all of my issues came back with force
with suicidal ideation entwined
And still I dusted myself off
and tried my luck with love over and over again
thinking each time it will be different
except it never is
they always tire of me and decide to leave
and once again my insanity hits and I break
Intrusive thoughts spiral in my head in an endless loop
“’i’m a failure to love,i’m a failure at love,
i’m a failure with love,i’m never enough,
i’m worthless, death must be better than this”
this was my tragic love story for 26 years
but on year 26, I said “fuck this tragic love story”
and I got the courage to change it
I’m not a failure to love, I’m not a failure at love
or I’m not a failure with love
I’m enough by myself, I can be alone by myself
and I turn into a success story of love
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/02/long-wait/
¿Qué tengo que aprender antes de que sea mi turno?
estoy agotada tratando de encontrar a ese
esa alma gemela, aquel con quien siempre soñé
ese hombre que me extienda su mano
cuando empiezo a ahogarme
I wrote this in December of 2021 when I got on a new form of hormonal birth control. It’s an understatement to say that it amped up the intensity of my emotions.
I’ve bled for more than 40 days and 40 nights
but my doctor says I need to grin and bear it
My hormones are in constant flux
I want to die, I want to scream
Is God punishing me for my past sins?
My mood swings are uncontrollable
No matter what I do, I can’t find the calm
Anger, rage, sadness, and despair
are my emotional staples
And within a span of 3 weeks
I write poetry at 3am, crash my car,
and breakup with my friend
When will this madness end?
My doctor says give it 6 more weeks
but my mind and body are losing it
over this 2 inch form of torture
Will the next 6 weeks get calmer?
or will I go down in infamy?
This was my response to prompt #17: The best gift you could receive
God grant me serenity and peace
I hate it when I’m like this
everything annoys the fuck out of me
If I have to see another post about healing or trauma
or my inner child, I’m throwing my phone out the door
it’s not anything or anyone specifically
its these horrible mood swings
They transform me into a salty bitch
who sets fire to everything and everyone
with her pen and paper
at least now I channel my anger into poetry and prose
and no longer self implode
when will serenity and peace come to me permanently
and not just come to visit me temporarily?
I wrote this in December of 2021.
I was never the marrying kind
Don’t know why I forced myself into that line
Maybe because of society’s expectations
I made marriage my destination
But it wasn’t really who I ever was
Forever is not meant to be in my book of love
But still I tried for seven years
And by year 7, I ran into my biggest fear
I felt trapped in a cage of my own making
Happiness, contentment, and authenticity I was faking
But it was never truly me
Living this suburban reality
And one day I wanted to sleep forever
My mind collapsed from society’s pressure
to continue this facade of being the perfect wife
With my perfectly imperfect life
My authenticity I had to put aside
I’m a wife and mother of three
There’s no such thing as being free
But these were the lies I told myself
The critic in me I learned to quell
I learned I could be a mother but not a wife
My husband took our relationship’s demise in stride
There would no more anniversaries
We were done with self imposed forgeries
And a new chapter started with us
One full of laughter, friendship and familial love
Apparently, here is another poem from the great breakup of 2021 that never got posted. I’ve also included the revision of it after the poem.
I deserve better
than some low class player
I deserve a man who knows how to love
not some boy that’s not enough
I deserve respect
not to be treated like an object
I deserve honesty
not someone who lies to me
I deserve to be able to trust
Not some asshole who’s out for lust
I deserve to be happy
and to not drown in misery
I deserve a real man
and not an ass from jerk land
2001
Worthy of My Energy
fuck the toxic love story I keep on repeating
I refuse to be disrespected and objectified
by another man who lies to me about love
because he’s lonely and wants me in his bed
I’m no longer a temporary bandaid
for another confused man
who doesn’t know what he wants
and discards of me when I’m stop being easy
from now on any man who wants to be with me
will have to prove himself to be worthy of my energy
Aqui esta en enlace para la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/22/poesia-dime/
Why did you break our romantic ties?
What did she have to make you leave me suddenly?
Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story,
of finding myself the woman used and scorned?
I’m fucking exhausted with rage
always making the same mistake over and over again
giving all of my myself to another confused man
who leaves me when I’m no longer easy
The 10th year of blogging brought a lot of progress and growth in my life. As I write this, I’m excited to say that I’m in a really good place in my life. I’m proud that I’ve been consistent in posting content on almost a daily basis and have continued to challenge myself as a writer and content creator. When I have asked people what they think about the blog, they tell me “it’s honest” and “you really don’t hold back”. Some people don’t believe that everything I share is the truth because it’s so crazy. Well, sometimes my life does feel stranger than fiction. But, at least I’m never bored, right? One thing I started to do this year is translate all of my poetry whether the original poem was in Spanish or English. One of my favorite poems I translated is this one:
Happy Halloween! What’s scarier than a regular bitch?
I’ve also revised a lot of my old poems. This year, I’ve also grown a lot as a writer. In a few months, I can finally say I’m a published author. I will share the links to those books as they come out.
I can also say that I’m a much different person than the person who wrote this blog post this time last year:
A Decade of Blogging
I’ve let go a lot of the anger, shame, and guilt I felt from my trauma. It was a combination of therapy, a new level of introspection, and having a new appreciation for my life. I think last year when I restarted this blog, I was alternating between a state of anger, grief, and mania. I wanted to be as honest as I could be and I gave no fucks about the opinions of others. Also, as I was revisiting some of my older poems, it brought up trauma and well the anger came out in full force . I was also trying to find who I was beneath all of these years of unprocessed trauma. Add all this to the fact that I changed to hormonal birth control that made me even more angry and it was like a hurricane of emotions I tried to surf but sometimes couldn’t control.
I’m still going to continue telling my story but I’m skipping to December of 2021. There was a lot of poetry and stories I wrote from 2018 to November of 2021 and some of it I have shared on this blog already. The time frame I’m skipping is also the period of time when my BPD was at its worst and to put it mildly, I was an emotional train wreck. Sharing that version of me doesn’t feel right to me at this time. Also, I think that from December of 2021 to now is when my real recovery from BPD started and I wrote poetry on an almost daily basis.It’s going to be a challenge deciding which poems are going to end up on this blog. As I go through this recovery journey from my BPD, I’m understanding that I can still process and honor my trauma without having to share it on this blog or social media.
The direction of the blog is also going to move towards collaborations with other content creators, writers, and guest bloggers. So if you have a story, opinion piece, an essay, or poem you want to share with the world, feel free to contact me. I’m open to most topics. Also, you can use a pseudonym or be completely anonymous. I invite you to share your passion or anger or whatever message you want to send out there to the world through my blog! The cringier and more emotional, the better. Lol. Below is link to my contact info:
Contact Info
Lastly, thank you to all of my followers and everyone who reads, takes the time to read, and like my brand of crazy. I’m humbled every time I get a comment or a like on one of my posts. The fact that this blog has grown exponentially from 17 followers in July of 2021. This means I’m doing something right. Thank you for allowing me to have this platform to be my most vulnerable, craziest, saltiest, and authentic self.
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. I guess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced.
There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears
Over something that would end soon.
There was no use in feeling devastated over
Something that never should have happened.
Vows that should never have been taken.
Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning.
Empty words that were never believed in.
8 years of marriage; an institution we thought
would bind us for eternal life.
So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect
wouldn’t break us apart.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
Just like he forgot all of his promises to
“Try harder” or “to change”
So I wouldn’t leave.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary.
And it’s fine.
You don’t celebrate something
That is already dead.
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/25/poetry-im-sorry/
Lo siento por el niño que eres
y el hombre que nunca serás
Lo siento por haber enamorarme de ti
y no recibir el amor que merecía
Lo siento por creer en tu actuación de hombre bueno
Y aprender que el amor era una ilusión
Lo siento que tu nunca sentiste mi desamparo
Y que para ti no mas fui otra inutil
Lo siento por todas las lágrimas derramadas
y todo el amor que te di
Pero más que todo lo siento por el dia que te aparecistes en mi vida
para ser otro recuerdo lleno de amargura
I wrote this in December of 2021.
There is a certain magic in nature I forget about
Feeling the wind in your face running
while listening to my favorite song
It reminds me what a gift it is to be alive
Observing the miniature toad in the creek that hasn’t
been washed away by the many harsh elements around it;
It gives me hope I too can survive the really hard times,
Smelling the rain before a storm,there will be a rainbow after it
that is how life is, there are better times after the worst of times
Life on the BPD 