“Why Did I Stay?”

I’ve found myself desperately seeking validity,
“Why did I stay?”
Then I remember:

Connecting at every concert,
Striving to be every beacon I see,
Reconciling my relationship with the mirror,
Sharing and healing with my story,
Freeing myself of the weight of my mask,
Learning that I’m not alone,
Defining myself as a warrior,
Accepting the love I’ve deserved,
Embracing hair that is my own,
Surrounding myself in light,
Continuing to find calms in my chaos.

A Spark.

(this was the first poem I ever published online. I have slightly revised it, but sharing this over a year ago was a big step in my journey so I would feel inauthentic if I rephrased all of its’ flaws)

Hair in my hands,
And suddenly,
Darkness.
Everything around me
Felt unreal.

Lonely, self-loathing trash
Became my personality.
I found residence in rock bottom.
Only music understood,
Freed me from the burden,
And provided arms of comfort.

Then came the sparks:
There were moments of community,
Unexpected offers of help,
People willing to listen
And keep me company,
Concerts that spoke what I felt,
Vinyl records that put me at ease.

For the first time,
I had a place in this world.
My presence is valued.
I am not a waste of space.

These sparks
Ignite a light within me,
And remind me
That hope is real.

Sparks that seemed small
Became the motivation
To get better.
To take that light
And become a beacon
So that others
May not feel so broken.

The Mind/Body Dialogues: Covers & Chapters

My body is the cover to my story: Dark under eye circles, thinness, a curly pixie cut.

My mind is each chapter: Anxiety, love, self-doubt, optimism, perfectionism.

My body is constantly telling me to stop.
“Slow down.” “Be happy.” “Breathe.” “Listen.” “Accept it.”
I ignore the warnings until I crumble in surrender to fatigue.

My mind is having multiple conversations every minute.
“You’re worthless.” “You’re worth it.” “You’re a burden.” “Your presence matters.” “You’re alone.” “You’re loved.” “You’re broken.” “You’re strong.”
I cannot ignore my mind, hence my crumbling and surrender.

My body is both my enemy and my security.
My pieces do not fit.
I am not a finished puzzle.

I’m supposed to be healed.
I’m supposed to be healthy.

My body is a vessel around the mess that is my mind.
It is an illusion of optimism and health.
It suppresses the realities of my thoughts.

My body is an anchor, but my mind is searching for air.

My mind needs to be heard.
It can no longer be silenced.
It aches for recognition.

My body is weak, but it is capable.
My mind is a mess, but it is capable.

My body has transformed dead roots into beautiful vines.
My mind has transformed death from a solution to a fear.

My mind and body were once the villains of my story
They have built the foundation
Upon which I have risen.

“The Loneliness Comes In Waves”

The loneliness sometimes creeps back in, threatening like a storm approaching. But the strength of the storm depends on my reaction to the first rain drops, my perception of the clouds, the anticipation of what is to come. Lately, it monsoons on some days, then transforms to drizzle on others.
How can I stop the rain when I’ve become so accustomed to its presence? Why can’t I accept the sunshine behind the clouds until it hits me in such a way that it’s ecstasy? Everything affects us, so why do I continue to accept what hurts me and avoid what heals me? Why is darkness comforting but light frightening?

A Strength that Compensates A Weakness

Despite all the mountains I struggle to love myself.
Loving others is easy, for their healing is my medicine.

While my visual glamor has diminished
My inner light has flourished.

My empathy is a spark
And my potential to love others is what will create a beacon.