18

A story I’m ashamed to tell:
of red dots under eyes
popped blood vessels
counting the minutes left
after delicious dinnertime
to keep myself in check
to a schedule I created.

The unabridged tale
of satisfying my hunger with another’s envy
“Whatever you’re doing, keep at it!”
“You’re looking better everyday!”
“You’re so small!”
so so so so small

The strive to be size zero
my superficial goal to be
the bottom of a spectrum
to be loved, not revered
not an economist or a journalist,
just skinny.

On display: my greatest play
if the numbers on my plate aligned just right
it would create constellations of compliments
and everyone would finally
love me.

Every morning, I wished to lose more
even if it meant
the weight of my mind.

The Sparknotes of a novel I wrote
where flattery was food
and everyone wanted to know my diet secret
but no one cared to read cover to cover,
only the summary I fabricated
so I could fit into the clothes I thought
they wanted me to.

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61 thoughts on “18

      1. Everheart

        That’s true. I’ve struggled with that in the past. To say or not to say. To confess or to change your beliefs in your own mind. Methinks, that is exactly what you are doing. Vulnerability and compassion can occur alongside neurolinguistic repatterning. Consciousness or being aware of the dream nature of things while you express the shameful parts important because we keep them from our peers and it stands true that our peers too can heal them for us. Maybe, Love and the universe has its hands in the clay of your life at far greater ways you can even imagine, so don’t worry about it. Just bring them into the light and I will wash them away for you. I’ll even purify your mind for you too and install new optimal patterns for the new and improved you. How does that sound?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Absolutely! Our society is based around everyone showing their “highlight reel” to others, and quietly shaming themselves for all the parts they don’t want to show. I’ve never publicly discussed my history with bulimia before, and even just silently sending off this poem into the writing community feels like a weight lifted. Of people who understand. Of people who are willing to understand. Of people who find comfort in knowing someone else feels this quiet ache of a silent recovery. Thank you for coming by.

        Liked by 2 people

      3. Everheart

        Know that we are loving you so so much and there is nothing you could ever say or do to change the unconditional love we have for you. That is certain. Share it all. I’ll read it. Privately if you must. There’s nothing worse than unhealthy shame.

        By the way, check out mark fiveman on udemy. He has a very effective shame clearing meditation and hypnosis entitled ‘get rid of shame and guilt’. ❤️💕💕

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Everheart

        Friend, our closeness is this : Anywhere you put your foot, feel me in the firmness under you. Trust then know. Energy, beloved, friend, the ground, you, are made of the Law of One.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. What an amazingly well written poem! I feel like I need to say, let’s rebel against this backwards culture. People need to consistently pick their friends based on their character and their heart. Not clothing size or beauty. Our spirit is us not the external. You are such a great writer helping people to see from another perspective.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. It’s beautifully written, I fully relate to the pain. It brought back memories of my own. I wish you all the best, I hope you are out of this detrimental mind state. Stay strong, know your worth outside of society’s standards for beauty and acceptance. If you don’t do it for yourself, trust me, you’ll be lost in an endless swirl of pain and self doubt. That’s not a way to live. Love starts from within. (I hope I’m not over stepping, if you ever need words of comfort, please don’t hesitate to reach out) 🙏🙏🙏

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jaw dropping wow!!!!

    Its like your inside my head from when I was 15 and anorexic. I was convinced that if I was thin enough, pretty enough, I would be loved and I would eventually be able to love myself. The funny thing is, I eventually reached my goal weight and it wasn’t enough. I formed my own bulimia, instead of binging and purging – I starved myself for a week and ate an able or something and forced it back up. Like I was punishing myself. I pretty much almost died at 18 and it still was not enough. I discovered that I hated myself and I could never believe anyone could or would ever love me. I trapped myself in cage where the only escape was meant to be my death.

    This consumes and distorts your thinking about yourself, others, and reality as whole.

    So thank you for being brave and speaking out! I wish more would!!!!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. We all have the same story to tell, of distorted self-worth. When I reached my lowest weight at 17, it was in the 110lb’s range–a number I hadn’t seen since I was 10. It wasn’t enough. I needed more, but I didn’t know what number I wanted. This idea that this number is what validates us, this number defines us, and if we don’t achieve it, no one will love us. How sad, how dark a place to be, to find out that they loved us, already. I don’t wish it on anyone. I feel love and support for you. Thank you for telling your story. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I love that whole Sparknotes metaphor. It’s funny because, just as a reference, mentioning Sparknotes says so much about a certain generational shared experience. My Sparknotes poetry writing guide remains one of my prized possessions, perhaps in spite of (or because?) all the formative teenage associations whirled around it.

    But then you make that a whole metaphor about yourself or the way people perceived you– the idea of a cheat sheet about yourself. And it instantly pictures to mind the little spinaround kiosk things with all the laminated cheat sheets and the slender shiny guides to this or that classic or complicated subject. Which are cool in a way, but also a commodified dumb down version of a more complicated rich reality. And that just makes such a potent, poignant metaphor. It’s so witty yet it conveys something sad at the same time. I loved it!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love this interpretation because you nailed it! It’s a small ode to the lack of discussion about mental health, illness vs wellness, and the way our parents were brought up to hide these “personal issues” while my generation has been taught that being open and bleeding your real feelings is worthy and admired. This cross of generational miscommunication—with or without a cheat sheet—that sometimes, we deal with sadness differently. Thank you for your wonderful comment. 💕

      Liked by 1 person

  5. This made me really sad. But it also made me feel close to you in a way. I hope to get to know you well through your work. You seem like the kind of person who makes the people around you think a little more than they did before.

    Lol, I hope that makes sense. You did a really amazing job with this.

    Liked by 1 person

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  7. Hi tһere! This blog post could not be written any better!
    Looking at this рost reminds me of my previous гoommate!
    He always kept preaching about this. I most certainly will forward this post
    to him. Pretty sure he’ll have a great read. Mɑny thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

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