look at her. isn’t she fat? look at those huge thighs. no beauty. all mess. said the 16 year old mini-mess. for her, i grieve.
for her i grieve
When someone we know loses a child or husband to death, It’s obvious to all of us why they are “grieving”. I can hardly stand to think about losing The Man. Grief in the face of death makes sense.
But is it obvious why the woman in the cubicle next me, or the checker at the grocery store, or my best friend who seems to have her shit together might be grieving? Or why I, for a matter of fact, AM grieving?
Years of self-abuse, letting those voices beat the holy shit out of me. Judging and comparing myself to others…. Looking back over pictures from years ago, seeing a young women who was beautiful staring back at me only to remember how she felt. Fat, unworthy, damaged, broken… When I think of all the lies I’ve told myself about my worth… well that’s something to grieve about.
How did I “waste” all those years? How did I let this happen? Where was I in my own life? Why did I “let myself go?”
So many of, hell most of us, know what it is to let ourselves go. It doesn’t mean we didn’t work out enough -or- we gained weight -or- ice cream became our best friend -or- our pedicure grew out -or- we didn’t get the grey adequately covered with the purple dye.
It means I let go of my own hand. When others doubted me -or- questioned me -or- betrayed me… I didn’t know how to hang onto me. I am longing to reconnect with a part or myself I thought was lost… or perhaps a part of me I never knew I had.
But today, upon reflection, I realize it was a part of me which was silenced for the sake of convenience.
I want it back. It’s up to me. You can’t do it for me. You don’t have “it” to give me. You only have yours to claim.
I won’t let it be hushed. to keep the peace. anymore.