Body Disorder

He accidentally dislikes my body

at least once or twice a year

Somehow it’s always my fault that he says the words

and he gets so pissed when I get pissed

I have been chubby

I have been painfully, dangerously thin

And at no extreme or size in between

have I ever been the right size or shape

to earn his approval

or at least shut him the fuck up

there’s always another thing to be said

about my body

or my eating habits

and he will use any excuse he can to vomit those words at me

and always always always

insist I asked for it

Clown

it’s confusing to be at a one-man show

it’s just that we all thought we’d play a part

all the parts are yours

and the rest of us are useless props

still we try our best

but it’s never enough for you

somehow we always miss our cues

your resentment builds

your head gets filled

with all the ways this show would be better

if the audience would just do what they’re supposed to do

you stamp your feet

you speak a little louder

you play the put-upon saint

you try to be so reasonable

I know in your head

you think

you’re reasonable

you alienate

you push us away

you cannot wrap your head around the fact

that it takes two

to

play this game.

“It’s not a game.” says the saint.

no. it’s not.

and you’ve had your second chance.

this time

I will not stick around for the crappy second act.

It’s clearly the same play.

Different day.

 

 

 

Death

The process of dying

is a slow fade

it’s tissue losing health

and turning gray

Coming to life again

is excruciating

scraping the damage away

to reveal new skin

raw and exposed

and not ready to be seen by the world

My addiction is death

and choosing to die

but it was safe and

comfortable

and padded

as it murdered me

Coming back to life hurts

more than the things that drove me to choose death in the first place

Coming back to life is scarier

than the fears I quieted with a bottle of wine

(or four)

it’s a waiting game

but I’m terribly impatient

it’s feeling everything, brutal and clear

when I didn’t know I was making it so hazy

it’s wanting to race

when I can’t even crawl

it’s repetitively whispering to myself

it will all be worth it…

when the truth is

I don’t even want to be awake

Rejection II

It doesn’t seem to matter how much I change

or how much I like myself

nobody else can see my worth

It’s like having a slightly bad smell

and they are too polite to tell me

and a very few even try to brave it

there must be a few appealing things about me

for them to try

but ultimately they can’t stomach me

and they have to create space.

I appreciate you

it is not quite true that you are my rock

a rock is a hard place

and you are my soft place

you are my safe space

you wrap your arms around me when I’m sad

you listen

and you try to do things that make me smile

you speak

and you remind me of who I am

You let me speak

and remind myself

You tell me how I am amazing

and I believe you

because you know that I’ll know

if you’re b.s.-ing me

and I’ll call you on it

and ask you 40 annoying questions

I’ll pin you down verbally

and roll my eyes

and in the end

it would definitely not be worth the fib

you see my fire

and aren’t intimidated by it

you see my strength

and encourage me to go on

you enjoy my beauty

but don’t try to cover it up

and keep it for yourself

you are laid back

which I marvel at

I haven’t laid back many days of my life

I appreciate rest when I see it

and peace

even though I can’t often grasp it

you laugh with me

all the most important people in my life

they laugh with me

I am truly myself with you

there is nothing left to hide

we have both been and fought monsters

in each other and side by side

we have found full vulnerability

and having each other’s backs

even when we don’t get it

or it scares us

we have each other’s backs

 

this simple, broken thing we have going here?

we have way more than so many others have

someone else’s words

like the shrink says to do…

I lay around

trying to let myself “feel”

and let myself “heal”

but mostly just hating myself

can’t get my mind off of all the what if’s

all the things I could be doing

all the things I should be doing

wondering if my husband secretly thinks I’m a loser

and if my kids are embarrassed by me

sad and stressed

bored

scrolling through my phone again

wishing I would fucking quit

cause mostly it’s Facebook

and why do I want to see what these idiots post

no matter how many times you look it’s just crap

but (not on Facebook)I come across this poem

someone wrote

just crazy and hilarious

and all of a sudden I realized

I. was. smiling.

I felt joy in my heart.

It was like finally eating when you’ve been starving.

It was like that first warm hug from someone

when you’ve been alone

and oh-so-lonely.

What a long-ass, pathetic day I’d had.

then someone’s words made me laugh.

It gave me energy.

It made the whole day good.

I like that.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: what if

lullaby

there’s a song I sing to myself

at night

when my anxiety is overwhelming me

and I can’t fall asleep

it goes something like…

holy hell, you are not your parents

and he is not his

and your kids are going to be okay

and when you are finally ready

there’s probably a job out there to be had

and not just at a gas station

but a real one, with benefits

also, depression passes

and you’re probably not narcissistic

I mean maybe, but unlikely

and you know how to deal with rage now

so you probably won’t end up in jail again

and you’ll get your strong will back

and start eating right and working out

and someday you’ll be able to pick up your Bible again

and read it more than once every fourteen days

and you won’t have to sit on your hands

and clamp your lips shut

to resist the urge to lash out at people

you love

who are unassuming and unaware

and have no idea that you just need to blame some of this pain on someone

someday the shame will fade

someday you’ll stop apologizing for sins you didn’t commit

and accept forgiveness for the ones you did

someday

and that is the song I sing to myself

and sometimes I even

fall asleep

without the help of a pill

thank you song

You drive me crazy

Crazy making

Crazy making is one of your sharpest tools

Crazy making is living in a world where nothing happened exactly like it happened

Crazy making is when if what happened is even slightly acknowledged,

it is over now

so get. over. it.

Crazy making is it happening a thousand times more and being told it’s my fault

Crazy making is when I start to believe you

Crazy making is you changing but never changing

Crazy making is all my bads counting for a thousand

and all your bads counting for nothing

Crazy making is me trying to be perfect

but even when I’m perfect

it’s all wrong

Crazy making is me getting what I deserve

Why is the punishment so disproportionate to the crime

Crazy making is when I finally snap

Crazy making is when you can tell a story just right

and I look crazy but you look sane

you look like a saint for putting up with me

And I am crazy

for keeping secrets

I don’t even know how to tell

I’m just trying to hold it all together

to live a life

to hold a dream

you keep telling me I can have

some days I can’t apologize

sometimes I do some crazy shit

and I’m just not sorry

my head kinda hurts

but the only thing I’ve got

is didn’t you know?

laughing to myself

cause y’all never know

and even when I’m sober

y’all never know

This isn’t a pretty attitude

and it isn’t who I want to be

these are the things that used to be me

and for a long time I wasn’t… unraveled…

I serenely handled these things

I still handle them

I’m just a lot more likely

to jump out my car

and expect you to back up the shit you just talked

so to all you girls that think you bad

maybe be able to back up the shit you talk

or shut the fuck up