Did I Ask You for Attention When Affection is What I Need?

Hello all of you out there in webland. I hope you’re all having a lovely Pride week! Personally, this week I’m struggling. I’ve been wrestling with this ridiculous restlessness which mutant-fused with apathy. I want to sleep for a week. I can’t sleep at night. I want to write, want to get this jumble of thoughts/feelings/images out of my brain, but I can’t seem to put anything down. I can’t pin anything down. I feel like a spinning, lop-sided vortex with a wicked wobble in my rotation. I feel like I’m sitting still in the middle of a fast-forward almost life. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for a month, but I’m not sure why anymore.

Source: http://youremakingmesuffer.tumblr.com/

 Here are the things I know:

            1. I need fulfillment. A new job, a new routine, a new me. One that doesn't cry so much. 

            2. I am two months away from relative financial security.

            3a. You are still featured in 90% of my waking thoughts (99% of my dreams)

                3b. This is not necessarily a good thing.

                3c. It’s not necessarily a bad thing either, it’s just a thing.

            4. I am a writer. I mean, I was born to be a writer. I write.

            5. I am going to live a life worth writing about.

 So. That’s about where I’m at! Sorry there’s not more to it than that.

I’ve been struggling with a lot of body issues lately. My body feels worn down, I’ve been shaky for no apparent reason lately. I’m tired. I’m tired of peanut butter sandwiches. I’m tired of feeling guilty every time I eat. I’m tired of trying to love myself. I’m tired of trying to be worth loving.

Some days it’s just hard, you know? When you’re looking at your story and all the plot twists only take you further down the rabbit hole. When you’re looking at your body and all you can see are the flaws. The failures. When I went to see Andrea Gisbon and Tara Hardy they encouraged us to write a love poem about our bodies, to appreciate our skin, ligaments, tendons and bones. Here’s my first attempt:   

I am a body of scars.

Look closely.

See, this is the blown knee

that taught me you can’t

take a big step

and change directions at

the same time.

This is my ragged lip

split septum to teeth

when my grandparent’s dog

ripped into my trust,

taught me sometimes

even your friends will

tear you apart.  

Look closely.

There’s the puncture

knit bi-weekly into

the bluegreen seam of my arm,

emptying my veins to

fill my tummy:

requisite badge of poverty.

These are my patchwork knees,

testament to constant falling.

This is my body.

Look closely.

It’s telling you my story.

I’m going to be ok. You’re all going to be ok. 

Ginger kitten is always there when you need a hug

I love you. Tomorrow will be better, I swear.

-b