IPFW Eating Disorder Support

mastery of self

wisdom tells me
that the mastery of self
is the greatest achievement in life
but that we
as humans
are masters of being
what we are not
we spend our entire lives
perfecting the art of
imagery-
the image we project
and sacrifice self to protect
that by creating
this perfect projection of ourselves
we procure a personal discrepancy
that invites emptiness
impedes self-love
and inevitably dooms
any attempt to give oneself to another
how can one give
of what they have yet to find
experience has told me
that until i come to peace
with my own self
i will consistently be at war
with my own reality
fighting life
instead of learning
what it could be
that until i own my life
deception will be natural
and acceptable
that until i know who i am
i will never know another
that until myself and i
are joined as one
the distance between myself
and others
will be forever greater
than the sum of both parts
that until i am present
in my own body
my skin will never know
the touch of another
that if i am not real
my experience will never be

copyright 2006

my own

looking at the images
projected by the media these days
it's hard to feel good about
one's body
constantly bombarded with a picture
of what we are
supposed to look like
a picture that represents
less than 4% of earth's population
that represents
the criteria for an eating disorder
that represents
something we are not
but feel we should be
but since we can't
we'll simply beat ourselves up
and buy more products
sifting through life
seeking self
on the outside

but i found
a simple solution
the answer
that was always there
is simply
love
if you'd like to know why
i love my body
i'll tell you
it's because
it's mine
it's the only body
i will ever have
and it deserves respect
my body tells the story
of my life
with its bruises and scars
it is beautiful
in its imperfections
so reminiscent
of myself
i love that my body
reminds me
of the alluring paintings
of voluptuous european women
i love that my body
is riddled
with little moles
brown dots on my skin
like the color of black coffee
with cream
some so small
they are almost imperceptible
like lies
i can play connect the dots
on my uneven skin
with dry elbows
and trace the veins
on the back of my legs
the color of milk
sometimes my feet are rough
and dirty
because i always like
to walk barefoot
and feel myself connect
with mother earth
i have permanently rosy cheeks
set against an ivory backdrop
that's not always perfectly clear
and i have the longest eyelashes
showcasing eyes of green
that see right to your soul
my hair is a wild jungle
that i would never wish to tame
with a comb
i have small ears
and my nails always brake
my ass has cellulite
and my thies are thick
i'm a woman
my body's not toned
my curves
they flow
but i'm stronger than you know
i'm a woman
my breasts aren't perky
they're comparably small
but it keeps me humble
i'm a woman
and i love every inch
of this body
because
it's mine

voiceless

i'm choking
words keep
grasping
and clenching
constricting
the insides
of my throat
i'm gasping
for breath
of release
in the form of
- …
i can't speak
i open my mouth
for emptiness
to come out
but she only stares at me
defiantly

she wants to play
sardines
and hide
in a dark corner
of my
oral orifice
conglomerating
the echoes
of the Voiceless
into a cancerous
mass
-a lump in my throat

i tried
to coax
this childlike
metaphor
to the surface
but she lost her faith
in trust
at a very young age
and her loss
set the stage
for the hollow silence
satiating
my lungs

i'm choking
on years of
vocal chords
abused from
disuse
and every phrase
unuttered
out of fear