1/26/2026
Art came back into my life early 2022.
Prior to that, the last time I picked up a paintbrush, or even used a pencil for expression was over a decade before.
As a little girl, I did not like dolls or barbies.
I couldn't care less about makeup or dress up costumes.
I lived for the smell of a fresh box of 8 crayons.
Oh, how I was jealous of the kids that got the box of 64 crayons.
You know the one, the one that included a sharpener.
I jumped at the chance to engage with anything crafty or artistic.
I loved teachers that would incorporate art into assignments.
In high school I met an art teacher who gave me unlimited access to her studio.
This was the first time I was exposed to so much more beyond crayons, pencils, and 99 cent store paint.
I ended up committing to 2 years of classes with her- I never ditched her class.
I have destroyed or tossed out most of the things I have made over the years.
I have been fighting this same persistent urge for the last four years.
I don't want another ten years to go by only for me to wonder where all my symbols have gone.
Not everything I make is aesthetically pleasing.
And sometimes it doesn't even make sense to me.
But I wonder if future me might be able to make sense of the hieroglyphics, I create today.
Or perhaps maybe the meaning I make of them will only gain more depth with time.
I spent years thoughtfully contemplating the art I permanently inked into my body.
The meaning attached to these symbols still resonates today.
Because they are declared so forcefully on my body. It's inevitable to continuously reflect on their meaning.
I now think there is a reason why I never got more.
The myth is complete with all four.
1/24/2026
I struggled to keep the the details of this one
(Dream)
My stuffed fox is missing from my office
I quickly scan each room as I make my way down the hallway
I find her in ******’s office
She is laying flat on her back
Appears somewhat deflated
There is a note on her stomach, hand-written
I wish I remembered what it said.
12/24/2025
My therapist and I used to have a routine disagreement about my wisdom and intelligence. She’d be very vocal about her perspective and hope for me.
That one day I might at the bare minimum acknowledge I was smart.
“But”, she’d say, “If you could see how brilliant your mind is and how truly wise you are…the journey will begin”.
Obviously, I’d sit there and argue all my points as to why I knew nothing and was quite the idiot. “People have told me so”, I’d demand. She’d discredit every witness…
I was always irritated during these conversations. One of the last conversations,…debates, we had on the topic she stated, “This relationship ends when you believe you’re smarter than me. When you believe I have nothing else to teach you”.
I believe this women saved my life more times than I can count. This statement, to a point, still sounds ridiculous to me.
I worked with her for 10 years because she was brilliant. And, to be outright frank-called me on my shit.
I was irritated because she was calling out a shield I used to survive. She was challenging it’s truth and therefore, it’s existence. And I can’t let go of a tool that saved my sanity (whatever amount I have left of it).
I stopped seeing her 1.5 years ago. I said it was because I got busy and finances shifted. I don’t think I was honest with her but only because I wasn’t honest with myself. I seriously believed I would return when things settled. I always came back.
When the time came I just couldn’t seem to “find the reason” to go. Not because I felt “cured” or better. I couldn’t place the feeling or even speculate on the potential reasons I suddenly didn’t need it while also needing something.
Not until this summer.
The feeling,…consideration dawned on me. (yes, despite being bluntly told for a decade. I’m regrettably stubborn.)
Her final words played over in my head. “Did our relationship actually end?” And if so, would it mean I believe I’m not so stupid after all?
I experimented with the idea.
The findings were hard to refute- even for me.
The longer I’ve sat with this perspective.
“hmmm, I’m not soooo stupid?”.
The more it’s corrected my vision. At least cleared some of the fog. Enough for me to see that what I’m looking at is truly a shield.
I pretend to be stupid. I have all my life. If I look at this from a more surface point of view and a concrete linear process it’s clear where it comes from. We can tie the story to a series of events where I’m told and treated like I’m stupid, yes. AND, the most important/significant person in this being my mother. It was one of the many criticisms she had for me.
However, I think this defense was also created for another reason.
It didn’t become clear until this weekend.
There wasn’t a feeling of shock or even disappointment.
Just this, “Oh, right”… kind of a confirmation.
I regressed… progressively so the smaller the number of miles between us became.
But I couldn’t JUST be a regressed version of me.
I had my baby and so I watched as I moved between these two selves.
The little one and this… protector…defensive…mother.
And this mother self couldn’t play stupid. No, she needed to be smart and wise for her baby.
There was no way it wasn’t that.
I couldn’t sacrifice him for the mortality of my shield. The choice has always been him- it’s why I’m still here…
So many things overlap and are webbed into this.
But for the purposes of tightening it up…
This defense has allowed me to gaslight myself.
I can continue to live in denial and maybe that doubt will always come lingering back. BUT, with this shield I would never have to face the facts of what my life has been like.
I oscillate between believing myself and doubting it all but the defense has always won the battle.
If I’m stupid, then how could I possibly know what I’m talking about? None of it really happened…
If I’m stupid, then I don’t have to be painfully aware of the show and dance everyone participates in. I could participate too.
If I’m stupid, I can stay small, stay seated. I evade responsibility.
If I’m stupid, I don’t need to be the “bad guy” that wakes everyone up. I avoid judgment of the dirty truths I already so shamefully repress.
Awareness comes at a huge cost. You must sacrifice and leave behind those who cannot and/or choose to not open their eyes.
I have been singled out, outcasted, and punished for being different all my life. When all I really wanted was to be accepted. All I wanted was to belong somewhere and couldn’t understand what about me was so wrong. If I play stupid with them then at the very least, couldn’t be rejected for being anything other than that.
Stupidity allows me to avoid the anger and resentment of never being protected.
It allows me to ignore my desire to belong somewhere as myself,…Eeyore
To avoid facing the guilt that comes from making the choice. The harm I am to cause for being authentically me and leaving them behind. And for no other reason other than I no longer want to be, here.
Behind the defense is someone who is capable, perceptive, brilliant, and potentially disruptive.
The group has never had a need for these qualities. They made me worthless and a rebel.
Emotional and artistic has no place in this dynamic.
My therapist would also ask a routine question to trigger reflection, “Is it them rejecting you or is there a part of you rejecting them?”.
“Is this where you even want to be? Do you really care what they think?”
I suppose I just feel I SHOULD.
I think this restless feeling I’ve had for the last year is coming from deep part of me that knows my time is running out.
The shield no longer works if I can’t get myself to believe in it anymore.
So, if the answer is that I’m smart.
What next?
I’ve been holding my breath in the in-between because I know keeping one foot out stalls the inevitable domino effect that is to come should I drop this shield.
I can’t change the past and the damage it caused- the years lost.
The childhood forsaken.
It’s pretty evident that I was right.
I watch the predictability of everyone’s choices and even my own.
I’ve spent life in survival and in pain. Wanting out.
Choosing to live for one person. Is that all there is?
It’s hard to fuel my tank with this if I’m no longer hiding behind the defense of idiocy.
So if I move forward, what would it be for? What is the point?
It’s obnoxiously clear that I need courage to solve this one.
Do I have or can I find the courage to live past the worst things that happened to me?
In service of what or who?
12/24/2025
(Dream)
I'm in an session, as the therapist
I begin coughing and can't seem to stop
So I turn the camera off because now i’m gagging
I begin to feel something coming up
My throats attempt to clear itself...
I cough up ball a little bigger than a golf ball
The sphere is all phlegm and holding its shape well
I move it back and forth between my hands
Inspecting it…
I awake
12/19/2025
Choices, choices, choices
What am I supposed to be feeling then?
Numb? Indifference?
How do I do this?
Fuck it
12/15/2025
It's been 6 days…
I move quickly
Trying not to see or smell
If I move fast enough I can pretend nothing is happening
I’m tired…
It's hard to pretend
My body is heavy
My breathing is so heavy
The sharp cramps trigger it…
the plague
The smell is hard to ignore
Strong smell of Iodine
And blood…
Day 6 smells like i’m rotting…
Like carneceria drains…
It’s black. Real black…
Like charcoal
It's really plague…
Chunks, of… me
It's so much…
I couldn’t help it
The nausea didn’t surprise me
Before I could catch it the vomit comes spewing out on the bathroom floor
I’m disgusting
It's poison
I’m infected
I’m dirty….
The contractions trigger pain
But I can’t stop gauging
I can’t breathe
Nothing is coming out
But nothing is going in
I try to wash it off
I scrub until the skin feels new
Hoping the hot water cleanses me
It never does…
Why would it now?
Just set it on fire
12/13/2025
You’ve been on my mind again…
We often discussed my lack of true connection with others
You’d highlight my ability to flex and adapt in any room I’m put in
But a person raised in survival sees the world differently
I’ve tried to conform and disown these traits
From the outside, my performance is due an Oscar
But on the inside I feel a disconnect
Just a collection of cheap bids for connection
I was learning to survive when other kids were learning to dream…
Their homes were safe havens- mine a battlefield
I was brought up on survival
Love was given in drops
Just enough to keep me from dying…
But also never enough to live…
I flip from acceptance to resistance about it
Both loving my independence and at times longing to just be like everyone else…
Seems it’d be easier to be like everyone else…
I’ve had a dream since I was a little girl
You know the dream…
You’ve told me it would never leave me
And I’d have to find a new way of relating to it
Lately, it feels more like a reality
I keep having these dreams…
Dreams I avoid writing down (you know the routine)
I wake up feeling disconnected from this life and myself
But it’s different
Like the trigger is from a force outside of me this time
No where in my mind or body
Feeling weak and powerless is something I cannot admit to…
Grief and rage bubble under the surface…
What difference does it make to be angry?
To feel the sadness shaking through my body?
The starting pistol has gone off
But I’m still lying at the starting point…
11/25/2025
I’m scared of myself
People think fear is suppose to only be about something outside of you
Something you can fight or run from
But what do you do when the fear lives inside you?
When it’s your own mind…
I feel like I’m carrying something dangerous inside me
I wish I could trust my own mind
11/16/2025
The same familiar feeling took over
Initially, anxiety
But truly, terror
I jumped… again
Leaped
I’m free falling
Just hoping I land on my feet once more
Can I manage?
Can I figure it out?
Is this crazy?
Maybe…
But when has my life ever not been crazy?
10/16/2025
Queen (noun):a female ruler or a woman of high rank, but it also symbolizes power, wisdom, and accomplishment.
You told me once I had “Queen energy”
I laughed at the time- not understanding your intent with this statement
I specifically laughed at this comment because of your explanation
You said I had a commanding presence
That people reacted to my “soul”, my energy
Even if they weren’t conscious of it…
They sought out my wisdom and knowledge
Were curious of my pursuits and accomplishments
But the funniest statement to me was when you said-
“When you speak, people will listen and move mountains for you”
“People believe and connect with your message”
You believed my voice had power
That it could move people and cause change
And at that time in my life I was confronted with the reality that my voice truly didn’t matter
In that moment it felt… invalidating
You revealed your own interest and investment in this “queen” power
But I felt nothing like a queen…
The imagery that played over and over in my head..
Was of this girl in oversized clothes
Torn up, dirty
Discarded as garbage long before she could speak
And here you were…calling her a queen…
It felt like you didn’t see me…
But it never upset me
I’m use to being unseen
It felt like confirmation of this belief
There are many occasions of this
Of your words over the years…that continue to linger or surface
Lately, the word QUEEN continues to come to mind
I think of the fish bowl analogy you gave me…
…I think I see it
And it scares me…
The power
The influence
I hadn’t considered it before
But it’s always been there
I could never explain it
Why would people care for my opinion?
Why would I be the first person on speed dial?
Why was I always associated with safety?
I summed it up to being someone who’d show up for the fight
I can own that-I’ll be the first to pull my hair up and take my earrings down for someone I love
But that’s not what you meant…was it?
That’s not why they call me… is it?
So much of my life has been about “lack of power”
“Lack of control”
“Lack of safety...”
Yet, somehow…. in some way, I have influence
How can that be?
“What the fuck do I know?”
I always tell them
“Don’t listen to me…”
“Don’t trust me…”
“Don’t do as I say…”
And yet they do,…
Then they come back to ask for more
They put me on this pedestal
I see it, I feel it
Like I’m some guide full of wisdom
And I don’t know how to explain that what they see is a wounded little girl
Just trying to survive…
I hate myself
And I’m scared…
I have always wanted better for others
I have desired safety for them…
I have pushed people I love and care for to be better than me
But I’m beginning to question…
Maybe my phone keeps ringing because they see something I can’t
Something you saw in me
9/23/2025
(Dream)
The scene starts in my office
It’s like a movie
Like I’m witnessing a private conversation
But the person on the couch appears to be speaking in my direction
Her hair covers her face
She’s cradling her face in her hands
She’s crying
Sobbing
The only thing audible is an abrupt statement she makes
“I can’t believe you’re seeing and hearing all of this. Good thing your face is so flat!”
As if to say it was less embarrassing to be watched by a relaxed face
She immediately turns to me as she says this and laughs
Making eye contact suddenly pulls me into the body sitting across from her
It no longer feels like a movie
But like I’m trapped in this body suit
I wake up
Alone
“From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then-in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life-was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lighting in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
A demon came in my view.”
-EAP
9/11/2025
“You have remained kind and strong and resilient
Through things that could have made anyone cold and weak
But that’s just the kind of person you are
You show extremely graceful strength
For someone who has every reason to be unrefined about all of it
But I don’t know if you have it in you to be any other way
You’ve thought about it
You’ve thought about knocking everything off the table in front of you until it shatters on the ground
You’ve thought about screaming in the isles in the store like you’ve lost all your courtesy to people who didn’t give any of it back to you when you lent it to them
You’ve thought about letting out all that pent up anger out
With the hopes that you can leave it there and never let it back in
But you know it always comes back
You know a lot more than you let on
Because you’re the kind of person that rather sit down with their demons until it’s sorted
Than to let them keep knocking for the rest of your life
You’re the kind of the person who knows anyone you ever meet will be greeted by them at the door
Unless you’ve already sent them packing
You’ve remained you
Instead of becoming a product of what you’ve been through
You’ve remained so many wonderful things
Even through some of the worst things
Because that’s who you are at your core”
-JB
9/6/2025
Witching hour-
Not a phenomenon for me but the norm
Suiting I suppose…
It’s arms pull me into the darkness
I’m covered in it
Black ooze
Tar
I’m tainted
My body seems to be failing me now
Or maybe I’m becoming more aware…
I’m exhausted but I can’t stop
I don’t know how
The aches and pains
The flare ups-
All are suddenly louder
I’ve felt betrayed by this body most of my life
So I’ve disconnected from it
I’ve been careless and destructive
…As if I didn’t still do this
Love and care has never really been modeled or reliable
I wear armor to keep everyone and everything out
Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of how rotten I’ve become underneath
There’s a lot of despair with this realization
But also this opposing feeling
Like I’m letting go
And it’s ok
I think, “This is good”
“It can finish here”
Rest lures my mind
Now it calls my body
I’ve learned not to need others
I take care of myself
Even when I give space
I go into it with a back up plan
Never letting myself believe they’ll show up or stay
People fail
They’re careless
Incompetent
This has worked out fine for me
Learning to rely on myself has become a strength
I’m so good at it that I fulfil the role for others
I can carry people on my back
I don’t hesitate
But I can’t seem to bring myself to trust
Trust that someone will catch me, hold me correctly, or take the lead
Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like
To become undone
Completely helpless in the arms of another
To feel settled in their ability to stay…
And not walk away with another wound…
It’s a fleeting curiosity
I lay down the next brick
9/1/2025
I loop around the same surface-level realizations
Acknowledging some degree of impact
Surely there was damage done…
This was needed to survive
To move forward, I say
But I’m not so sure it’s function is relevant anymore
I was rejected
But I also reject it right back
It feels like someone else’s memory
Like a different lifetime
I reject this person- this part of me
It goes into the pile with all the other versions of me
The dirty, the weird, the outcast-the unlovables
It takes a lot of mental gymnastics to deny your lived experiences
Inevitably these versions have informed the person I am today
The good, the bad, the messy… a lot of the messy
I’ve made the conscious choice to try on their narrative
I’ve carried the story my way and it has only weighted me down
Although it feels disconnected and even delusional-
Their version remembers me as a fighter
Yes, still wounded and scarred
But- courageous
Determined to stay in the fight… and win
As I stumble my way with integrating this exiled woman
I come face-to-face with a deeper realization:
I let them burry the only part of me I ever loved
Abuse and neglect steal your voice
Your soul is sold to the devil
However, I learned to find the oxygen in rooms
Quickly I picked up the patterns
My brain and my work would always give me access to a microphone
I made sure to always be the best at whatever I did
And I owned it
I may have lost my voice in every other area of my life
I may have hesitated or doubted myself in other spaces
Felt powerless and helpless
But in my work- I was always clear
The betrayal killed her.
They nailed the coffin shut
and buried her 8 feet deep
My knees are shaking but-
I’m standing on her coffin now
I’m digging her up
I will resuscitate her
But this time,
I’ll make sure no one can ever put he back in this hole
8/16/2025- Papí
Empieza la conversación desahogándose del cansancio de envejecer.
Me explica que ya no siente su cuerpo igual.
Ha pasado estos días ayudando a mi hermano con su carro.
Me dice que mi hermano no hace caso y que la responsabilidad le cae en sus manos.
“Tú como mujer sabes más de los carros, y a él ni le dan ganas de enseñarse nada.”
En ese momento siento el coraje.
Se me calienta la cara y siento los brazos tiesos.
Interrumpo para decirle que mi hermano “ya está grande”.
“Ya no le puedes hablarle como a un niño o decirle cómo hacer las cosas.”
Le digo que “uno se cansa de escuchar lo mismo”.
“Mi hermano era el preferido.”
“El príncipe de la casa.”
“El primer amor de mi mamá” — así me sigue diciendo.
Trato de controlar el coraje.
“Ustedes lo chiquearon y ahora se enojan con él porque no quiere ser nada.”
“Ustedes también tienen la culpa.”
“A mí no me dieron los mismos privilegios.”
Mi papá tiene la voz fuerte, pero cuando empieza a hablar se escucha más bajo.
“Mija, yo sé que te he pedido perdón por no estar presente muchas veces.”
“Trabajé mucho y me enfoqué en darles todo lo que pude.”
“Y no te voy a decir que no estaba consciente, porque sí vi que había cosas que no eran justas entre tú y tu hermano.”
Me da un ejemplo:
“Nunca le gustaron los deportes a tu hermano, pero a ti sí. Te sacamos porque él ya no quiso. Pero tú encontrabas la manera de seguir.”
“Yo vi que ayudabas mucho y siempre eras independiente.”
Ya no aguanto el coraje.
“Yo sé que me pides perdón de vez en cuando.”
“Aunque entiendo por qué pasaron las cosas, no puedo soltar el coraje que te tengo.”
Me duele decir las palabras que me dan remordimiento.
Quiero y respeto a mi papá, pero cargo en mi conciencia los sentimientos de una niña.
Una niña que solo quería ser niña.
No tenía sueños de ser independiente o de cuidar a otros.
Estaba sola. ¿Cuál otra opción tenía?
“Eso ya lo sé” — responde mi papá.
No le sorprendió mi coraje y tampoco se defendió.
“Quiero mucho a mis hijos… pero sé que te fallé.”
Vuelvo a decirlo:
“No puedo soltar el coraje. No se trata solo de mi hermano y de cómo mi mamá me trataba…
…sino de todo lo que me pasó… toda mi infancia.”
Otra vez su voz cambia.
Siento que voy a llorar y lo siento igual.
“Sí, eso como papá siempre lo voy a cargar. Por eso te digo que eres chingona. A pesar de todo lo que has pasado, mira lo que has logrado.”
“Eres un ejemplo para la gente. También para uno.”
No quiero llorar y odio tenerle tanto coraje.
No digo más en todo el camino.
Él tampoco continúa la conversación.
Ojalá esta conversación sea el comienzo de encontrar la paz que tanto desea la niña que quiere mucho a su papí.
7/8/2025
(Dream)
At a gas station again
I can’t remember who is there
But I’m alone…
He gets in and grabs my hands immediately
I drive to leave
I begin screaming as loud as I can
I feel a blade in my pocket
I find myself covered in blood
He is motionless on the floor
I can’t remember
I’m watching myself
There is no one there…
6/19/2025
(Dream)
We are a family gathering
Sitting in the back room
It’s my grandmother’s house
It’s one of the rooms they built when coming to this country
My uncle is there…he’s a quiet guy
My mother is there
And I think a few cousins
There is a pull down ladder to the attic in the middle of the room
For some reason I know it’s mine
My things are up there
Nothing seems wrong
People are talking
Then I’m talking
He enters the room and I stop speaking…
I freeze
I notice no one else is speaking
Everyone is frozen too
Looking at him
I have the worry people will see
See how dirty I am
I worry about what will happen
And what I have to pretend to be in this moment
What show must I perform?
The pull down ladder is right in front of me
He walks over and is very close to me
I have to move for him to drop the stairs
Someone asks what he wants
I can’t remember who
He confidently says a new shirt
I’m instantly mad
I can’t hold it
“What are you doing?! You want what?! No, get the fuck out of here!”
His face looks shut down
Like I said the magic words
He surprisingly doesn’t push back
He lets go of the string and walks out of the room
I’m facing the entrance
Worried I’m about to be called a bitch or disrespectful
I turn and meet my uncle’s face
He shakes his head in disgust
In disapproval
But not of me
Almost to say, “this guy, right? Gross!”
I feel shame
He knows?!
My cousins seem to know too
But everyone just asks me to finish my story
But I’m stuck
I’m getting small
I’m dirty
My mom scoots over and lifts me onto her lap
I’m grown and she’s petite but she does it effortlessly
She says, “It’s ok. I got you. Take your time… we are all here”.
This unsticks my knees from my chest
I feel a smirk on my face
I can’t look at anyone or speak
But the room begins to fill with conversation
The energy comes back…
Perhaps the life…
I exhale deeply
and awake