Poetry Series – Disorderly

I’ve spent a little chunk of time delving into the topics of shame and vulnerability, sitting with the ideas, and seeing what’s surfaced. A lot has surfaced. There’s a lot ready to come out and be healed from as soon as we give ourselves the time and space to be present with it.

I’m still struggling to find a balance. I’m still learning to allow myself to forgive things I’ve done so that they can remain things I’ve done and not things I do. I’m still floundering, trying not to sink. I see you if you are too.

Disorderly

I could binge and come hither that food right back up 3, maybe 4 times a week, and I’d still stand firm and say I don’t hang with Mia.
But don’t get me wrong, I know the importance of owning your shit so I still say that I suffered from eating disorders growing up – I am positive everyone will default and just assume I mean overeating.
It’s the only thing that looks like it applies.
It’s why I don’t claim Mia as my own. I didn’t even seem successful enough, consistent enough, with that to shrink myself down to a recognizable size.
The thing is, I’ll still tell you I used to struggle with eating disorders. But do we ever stop struggling with what haunts us until we acknowledge it?
I’ll tell you I used to struggle with eating disorders, but as I write this I can’t help but wonder if that’s a wishful attempt to speak into existence a new version of self that didn’t exist just last month, hunched over and spewing.
How do you really blame a girl, though? We grew up in this world where what comes from the mouths around us is becoming increasingly more toxic. Add to that a quality of not wanting to hurt others – and that is a GOOD quality, I can admit that now. Add that quality and what am I left to do but spew my toxicity into the toilet?
Purge myself of the evil within me because we aren’t taught to address it, never acknowledge it, but always let it out.
But it always leads to shame. Shame leads to hiding. Hiding to withdrawing, secrecy. Wedges are built, pounded in each time I come hither again.
So can we stop the madness now that we know, we’re hurting relationships and not just our throat?

Much love, until next time.