The Girl She Was. {poetry}
{source}
She cried rivers
and almost drowned the whole world
that girl
the ache, her ache, swallowed everything around her
including her children
her poor little children.
This is the story of a girl
consumed by her own appearance, and what she appeared to be
a girl
who could not walk past a mirror, with any resistance
not because she wanted to gaze at herself
but instead to seek proof of her own existence
that girl
was looking for proof that she was alive in the world
And sometimes, when she cried, when she cried rivers,
she watched herself cry
because she needed to witness herself feeling.
Feeling something
And that doesn’t make any sense to you, I know it doesn’t
but it’s okay
And, just to be clear, she was an ugly crier. She cried ugly, sad thing.
But it’s true, it’s the true story of a girl
who looked and saw only flaws
the scar below her eye, the lines around her lips
the heaviness of her hips
she looked and found sins, mistakes
she saw the damage that bore the holes inside
and her eyes
those deep wells of caustic muck
dull, lifeless, fuzzy, fake
scattered debris in perils’ wake
her eyes, starving for light, scrutinizing,
just needed a damn break!
But her mystery lay stored and obscured beneath
To get to it
She had to dive deep
And she did
She did it without breathing for a while.
Below the surface of those pools, treading heavy truths, even heavier fears
She found no mask or thin disguise
worth keeping after all these years
She came up empty-handed, but free
Free
And to stay that way she chooses to remember the pain,
her pain, and the pain inflicted upon others,
the cold shoulders given, her selfish druthers
her kids, shut out and told to go play
while she wallowed in the decisions, and the choices of her day
her clothing, too tight, too baggy, too wrong
her hair, too stringy, too dry, too long.
her whole life she told herself how to look, and how to act
she filled her own head with all she lacked
When what she surely lacked
was retrospect, a clear picture of her own true self
her own wisdom, without disparity
she lacked a way
to think about her life with serene clarity
what she lacked was insight into her emotions
and the ability to shrug off erroneous notions
what she lacked was not what to think but rather how to think
for her self, and by her self, and to her self, and with her self
And when she finally had enough,
she cried a river, and almost drowned the whole world,
the whole world around her,
But those who loved her,
swam along with her,
and she survived because of them… because of them.
They know
They know
she is not defined by
the worst thing she’s ever done… to herself,
the worst thing she’s ever said… to herself,
the worst thing she’s ever thought… about herself,
or what she sees when she looks in the mirror,
and she —
she is more than her past
She has told you some of it,
Some of her story,
She’s finding ways to tell you
To share more of it
If it helps you,
it helps her too,
And
You know who she is now
And who she was
Before she nearly died
from choking on her regrets
Her throat, her sore throat, has been through so much
But when she speaks now
It’s clear
it’s so easy to hear
her true voice rings
No drowning,
No raging river of tears
that dragged her under
for so many years
those years when she told herself that her worth
was in her smile, in her skin, in her body, in her eyes
masking her need, spitting out lies
You think you understand
But you don’t
And that’s okay
Because
She barely does
she barely does
But it’s who she was
She was
She was.
***
Kimberly Valzania practices mindful gratefulness. She feels creatively driven to write about and share her personal experience and opinion on weight loss, fitness, life changes, adventures in parenting, day-to-day triumphs (and failures), and the truth-seeking struggle of simply being human. She believes that life is indeed a journey, and that precious moments appear (like magic) when you surrender, hold hands, and fling yourself into the great, wide, open.
***
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