Forever Young

I was with family this past Memorial Day weekend, and it was eye-opening.

I have often noted through the years the many things that get stirred up when I visit family. I know that we all tend to regress when we “go home.” For my recovery over the years I have had to pay close attention to this: going home was always a minefield emotionally. I had to learn to prepare and take care of myself while home.

All the old stuff would resurface, seemingly immediately, upon stepping onto Houston soil.

Often, it centered around my body and appearance. Depending on how I was feeling in my body, I would have negative thoughts and distorted thinking about how my body looked and also about how much others were thinking about how I looked.

I learned not to look in mirrors. To not trust the voices in my head that told me I had become monstrous overnight. I worked hard to distinguish the voices from my own “core,” and to be able to trust that “they” were not “real.”

It was painful, but over time, I have healed much of the sources of the genesis of those voices. They were, in their twisted way, a way for my psyche to protect itself from other much more complex feelings. Feelings that felt way out of my control and way out of my coping capabilities at the time.

I have also come to know that some of what I was feeling underneath it all was shame. I would feel shame around my family about how I looked and how I was. Who I was. I would not been able to name it as such then. It was just how I felt. It actually felt like “me.” But I know now it was shame.

Thankfully, with a great deal of personal work, I have had many visits home in the past several years where those voices were a very low murmur. Sometimes, they were totally quiet. Sometimes they flared up, but I had the relief of knowing that they were not “real.” It made a huge difference. I was not a victim to them. I could observe them and know the truth.

So imagine my surprise when, on this visit, I noticed a totally new form of that old shame.

This shame? It actually had to do with the shame of having gotten older.

I could not believe it. I actually felt ashamed for having aged.

In reflecting on this, I realize that as I am the youngest, when I am around my aunts and uncle, I have been carrying this sense of responsibility somehow to stay young forever. To stay that little girl. Well, my physical appearance belies that illusion. I will always remain the youngest in relation to them, but I am no longer young by any means.

So why the shame? I know that our culture creates an atmosphere of shame around aging, so it makes sense. But around my own loved ones? Wow. That just blew me away.

I actually had to stop myself from apologizing for having aged. I am still trying to process that. I have some unraveling to do for sure.

For now, I breathe and find compassion, once again, for the young parts in me that still feel like all of my value is tied up in my looks.

I take myself by the hand yet again and say, “I love you, just as you are right now.” It is a ceremony of self-love, and if I were to do it a million times, it would still never be enough.

Inspired by The Daily Post: ceremony

Shallow Depths*

Deep within

There is a certain part of me

Who stills believes

Life would be so much better

If I’d been born beautiful:

A super model, a movie star

Shallow, I know,

But that part of me’s convinced

Nothing sways her

She doesn’t care that you

Can’t cherrypick and you’d get

All their shit too (and that we all have shit)

She is absolutely sure

To be adored for your looks

Would beat the rest

That being loved for a face or body

Is more than enough for her

And she won’t hear otherwise

This part of me

Would make a deal with a thousand devils

It would sell my soul

For the chance to find out

If life really is better for the super stars and models

I’ve given up trying

To win her over to Self-Love Land

She cannot comprehend adult logic

So I hold her hand

And I say “I hear you,” then lead her into the deeper waters to play

Repost Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: famous

* I am visiting my hometown, and of course, all my “old stuff” is stirred up as if I was right back in high school, feeling so lacking. Back to a time when I based my whole self worth on my appearance. To a time I prayed to become famous so that one day everyone would regret rejecting me. It is amazing how quickly it all comes flooding back.

Soulmate

I’ve been looking for you forever

My sister, my twin

The parts of me who flew away

From the pain that was inescapable

Unendurable

You left

And I went numb

With shock, to survive

And then I forgot

You’d ever existed

And just felt emptiness

Where your life had once filled my heart

I cobbled a self out of what of me remained

And tried to find my way

But when you are missing key parts of your soul

Life always feels like it has not quite begun

So I’ve lived a half life

I’ve been like a ghost

While my real self was in limbo somewhere

And now here I am

Calling all of me back

My doppelgänger come home to roost

I feel my heart fill

I recognize what is at the same time foreign

Like meeting a twin separated at birth

Who I am now makes sense

No more searching the ends of the earth

Inspired by The Daily Prompt Daily Word: doppelgänger

Bygones

Call me archaic

I don’t mind at all

I like the old ways

Conversations

(Face-to-face)

Handshakes

Telephone calls

Eye contact

Board games

Playing cards

And naps

Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: archaic

As Charged

Yes, I am

Guilty of loving you

Lock me up

Throw away the key

I’ll do my time

Give me

A full sentence

Please

Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: guilty

(Thanks to you)

I have been operating under the following assumptions:

That I am plain, average and dull

That I am unmemorable, forgettable

That to surrender to pleasure is a death sentence

That love becomes humiliation overnight

That vulnerability ends in shame

But I am finally reframing these beliefs

I am choosing to find new truths:

I am lovely, unique and vibrant

I am memorable, unforgettable

Pleasure is safe and begets more pleasure

Love always elevates and is never wrong or cruel

Vulnerability is my birthright and there is no shame in it ever

So you see, I got this

(No thanks to you, btw)

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: assumption

Disco Dreams

She could hardly breathe, her heart was jumping so high in her chest.

After all of the preparations, all the effort, here she was. Dressed in the new outfit she’d painstakingly chosen at the discounted designer clothes store, she felt almost pretty.

She’d managed to find an outfit she could afford with her babysitting money: a pair of green drawstring pants that miraculously fit her pear-shaped, chubby body and a bright orange, sleeveless terry cloth top.

Her short hair was styled in its usual two round parallel curls on either side of her face which her brother had nicknamed “doo doo curls.” Her short bang unfortunately only accentuated the width of her face, but there was nothing to be done about that.

The freckles that sprinkled her nose and cheeks from summers spent at the pool were the only color on her face.

She’d had her parents drop her off at the club where the party was well into things. She knew it would be painful to walk into it. Better to be in a crowd than risk being seen too clearly.

She entered and walked in quickly, grateful for the darkened atmosphere. It was a disco-themed party for the 7th grade dance club, and so everyone was dressed accordingly and the venue was an actual disco. Instead of alcohol, soda was served.

She went from room to room, seeking two things: the few friends she had that might be there too, and him.

She found the friends and nervously stood, Sprite in hand, the condensation from the outside of the white plastic cup dripping down her hand.

She sucked the inside of her mouth along the braces that lined her upper and lower teeth, finding a strange comfort in the metal that was at the same time so maddening to her.

Through the pulsating lights, she saw him finally: Scott Prewitt, in all his glory. He was the most popular boy in school, blonde and tan. She sat behind him in Spanish class where, amazingly, he’d spoken to her a few times. Not just to pass papers back or anything. He’d made little jokes and seemed to enjoy her laugh.

She had looked forward to this afternoon for weeks, imagining that here, in the lights, in her new clothes, he’d maybe talk to her, which would be incredible.

She forced herself to smile and step forward from the shadows into the light, even though she was so nervous she could barely breathe and felt dizzy.

And just as she did, Scott Prewitt looked right at her and smiled and waved, his face beaming. She couldn’t believe it! It was happening! Her dreams were coming true.

Finally, everyone would see her differently. Because Scott Pruitt saw her, they’d value her, too. Everything would change.

She waited, breathlessly, as he walked towards her, her cheeks almost aching from smiling.

Just as she was saying “Hi Scott,” eyes twinkling, he walked passed her and grabbed Susie Moore, the most popular girl in 7th grade, in a hug, which made Susie squeal.

For what seemed like a lifetime but was actually several awkward seconds, she stood there as her “Hello Scott” hung in the air anemically before being dissipated by Susie’s squeal.

She stepped back into the shadows as she felt the familiar, hot flush of shame shoot down the length of her body.

She drained herself of feeling, determined not to cry. “That will teach you not to hope,” she said to herself as she pinched her arm, punishing herself for thinking things could ever be any different.

She found the restroom as quickly as she could, and there she remained for the full agonizing 40 minutes until her parents came to pick her up again.

Once home she sought and found numbing comfort in a pint of vanilla Haagen Dazs ice cream, and fell asleep into a full-stomach-sugar-induced coma.

Her hope did not have it so easy. A large piece of hers had fallen out of her heart and onto the floor of the disco, where Scott Pruitt and Susie Moore danced across it over and over again until it became unrecognizable.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: awkward

And Another Thing…

Complication:

What loving you has created

For the rest of my life

Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: complication

Sure Thing

“Don’t you think you are being a bit premature in your calculations?” she asked rather tongue-in-cheek of the unbelievably tan and unbearably attractive man who had just ordered a martini for her from the bartender without so much as a hello to her first: “And another for the lovely lady, shaken, not stirred.”

Of course, they both knew that he was actually totally on track.

He’d had her at “martini.”

Thanks but no thanks

It takes enough of my will to get out of bed each day

Don’t need to add the weight of your cynicism

Just keep your negativity to yourself

Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: infect