Body…Love?

painting woman in mirror
“Woman in front of the Mirror” by Janos Vaszary, 1904. Wiki Commons / Public Domain

I do not love my body right now.

Some days I don’t even like it.

I don’t like the way I feel in it.

I don’t like the aches and pains.

I don’t like that noone touches it.

I want to be body positive to inspire others.

I’m not proud—I mostly just feel awkward.

I’m not supposed to complain about this.

I don’t like that I even have time to complain (privilege).

I don’t love myself this way.

I feel like I can’t breathe well.

I don’t know how to get past the fog that’s in my head.

I need someone to move with me.

*Now and then I find myself telling myself what I’m “not” supposed to be feeling—eg: hating my body is a no no—which really just tends to make everything worse. So I thought I’d just try completely doing it, letting myself go there, then seeing how it feels. Now I’m left feeling somewhat emptied of this negativity, and better. If you are having a hard time dropping or stepping out of neuroses, recommend this sort of exercise. 

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The Land of the Lost and Found

IMG_1276 edit

Today I woke up lost
then found myself
coffee-warmed
with eggs benedict
on a bright red vinyl seat
in kitchy 50’s diner.

I found myself
walking forever
ears unplugged
mind massaged open
by ocean waves.

I found my face
slapped awake
by the cold,
this soul entranced,
engrained in
every beach detail.

I found myself
stopped
frequently photographing
trees, ocean, shells
intermittently pulling over
on the walking path
reaching for notebook
to scrawl these words.

(I wondered what the joggers were thinking
but didn’t care)

I found myself
untied
in this place of
morning-midday sun.

Because dusk
that in-between place
day’s pre-death breath
brings uneasiness.

I’m better now
at finding a way
through the dark
without losing myself.

Better, now,
At finding myself
present there and
settling,
waiting to be
born again

by morning.

New Moon Blurb

rain and moon

About today: the rain is as hard as my heart is heavy. Physically I’m perfectly comfortable and safe and free, but transition is all around and it’s not emotionally comfortable.

It’s the first day of the Year of the Wood Horse and a new moon.

A month into my ‘unicorn’ leave, and it’s been a trip. I just extended it one month, with no idea how I’m going to pay rent in March. I want to have complete faith (I know I’ll be okay) but I’m really scared, too (I want to be so much more than okay).

I wrote this article the other day, and shared this last week, both of which were somewhat controversial topics. They generated a lot of discussion which to me is — well, that’s pretty much the most important thing.

Spreading awareness, getting people talking, changing people’s perspectives, helping others understand things. This is a big deal.

So here I am, fulfilling my purpose. I should be happy but I feel really strange and exposed right now.

I’m floating in the middle of an ocean and there is no shore and nothing to hold onto. Some days I’m happy as a clam, floating on my back and being warmed by the sun. Others I’m flailing around and feeling helpless. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to stay afloat.

For me, writing is this weirdly painful necessity. It’s not always painful, of course, but it’s such a strange thing to have it be such a deep part of my life.

I feel like a fraud, but how can this be when really all I care about is being real and helping others be real and here I am doing just that?

Wonderful ladies night last night for miss MoJo’s birthday (so much love in that room), preceded by unicorn stampede on the weekend, a one-year-old’s birthday party, a lovely goodbye party, a last-supper date.

My best friend is heading to El Salvador for this. I’m so super proud and happy for her.

And he’s leaving. This very moment he sits at the airport and I can’t even stand talking to him because I feel too much.

And that’s not my life; none of these moments define my life. I may be feeling heavy today: sad, a bit angry, scared. But that doesn’t mean I’m sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

I’m doing everything I can to move forward, move through it, to face it and then step outside myself.

Last year I tasted possibility; this year I’m going into it, and I’m going hard.