The Gap Between My Legs is Closing – A Poem.

the Gap between my legs is closing

                                                                      and with it- the gap between my eyes and my size. I know-

most-

…some

of the time

that I Look:

                STRONG

                HEALTHY

                WELL

                HAPPY

I Am:

                STRONG

                HEALTHY

                WELL

                HAPPY

 

but

sometimes

my eyes still glaze and the haze of “flashback fog” takes me back to no rack-
ed plates on barbells
and jutting collar-
ed shirts that don’t swell
and space between thighs
and try as I might

the head doesn’t always win over the ghosts of ill fitting sizes of obsession

 

BUT

it’s worth it when it does because my cheeks are flush
and my hair is –annoying!— but lush
and I can sit without pain and I can
lift without shame
and I can run without needing to
and I can rest without feeling…                                                                                                                                                                                                                               too
lazy.

And I can take my own advice
to “look after yourself”
instead of shelving it on the “not for me” shelf”

… most… some… Sundays.

And I move ‘cause it feels good
and I eat not just because I should
and I eat well not just because I said I would
I want to, I want to, I want to and it’s just
the best.
And I don’t fear anything…

most… some… meal times.

                                                                                       and the gap between my legs is closing
and with it, the gap between what I say and what I write and what I think when I look in the mirror

is,

slowly, most times, sometimes…

closing too.

//

This is a hard one to press publish on. For all sorts of reasons. It speaks of my no.1 biggest sin- my need to control my life instead of giving everything over to God. It speaks of my no.2 biggest sin- finding my identity in things other. But it also speaks of a struggle for so many women and girls and boys and men. It speaks of this need to be thinner or leaner or whatever and that anything that gets you there is worth it and that lean = the best when actually, lean doesn’t necessarily equal healthy or even that fit. It also speaks a little to comparison and the way we distort ourselves when we look through a warped mirror like that of social media, or even the people around us. This isn’t an issue for everyone but I know that I can very easily fall into the comparison trap and it plays into my natural competitiveness. But I need to reject that and focus on what’s important in my life:

My God
My health
My purpose

And all of these things point to the same ultimate conclusion: stop looking at yourself. I was going to say “stop looking at yourself through a distorted lens” but I think it’s more poignant (for me) to simply stop being so concerned with the perception of ME and instead be focusing on what God’s doing through me, what I’m doing to help others, what my gifts and talents are and instead of focusing on something so fleeting as my physical appearance, instead be focusing on things of a more lasting and even eternal nature. I am still always going to care about my health and my fitness which will be reflected in my body, but it shouldn’t be my number one priority. My priorities should be my relationship with God, my relationship with others and my relationship with the world around me. And in each of these priorities my love of fitness and love of healthy food plays a part.

Let me explain, if I truly value my relationship with God, I truly value every gift he has given me- including my body- and I believe He wants me to be physically fit and strong to do what he has designed me to do. I know I couldn’t have lost the weight I did, the way I did, with the ease I did, without Him. I not only lost weight but other things in my life which had a hold on me were shed too. I also think He took me down in order to demonstrate the hold control had over my life, even when I didn’t realise it. He continues to work on me in this area and I know fitness is somewhere in this plan. 

Secondly, my relationships with others have developed and grown and my fitness has played a part in that. I’ve been told countless times that I inspire people and that I spur people on. I like to think I’m encouraging and a good friend. I hope I am and that my love of fitness can help others come to a similar place. I also think my “journey” has enabled me to better understand people who are coming from a similar place at both ends of the scale. While I was never a full blown victim of an ED, my thinking around food, exercise and my body was not healthy and I think I can relate to people better for it.

Thirdly, my relationship with the world around me. There is so much to be done. So much to get passionate about and to change. Today is National Sorry Day. We continue to reject refugees and asylum seekers. Racism and sexism is rife. People live in fear. I want to be a part of this change and community engagement is part of that. Food is part of that. Fitness can be a part of that. I believe my purpose is to use my passions- writing, food, fitness, education, social justice, faith… to affect some of this social change- even if on a small scale. I want to make my students think about their words. I want them to think about their vote. I want them to think about their voice. I want my students to make ethical choices. I don’t want them to buy into the economy of fear. I don’t want my students to hate themselves. I don’t want them to make others hate themselves. I don’t want my students to compare themselves to others. I don’t want my students to live unhealthy lives. If I can be a role model- I can change lives… I hope. 

So… even though posting this was scary, I hope it did something for someone. 

Lessons from Mum- a poem

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Hold my hand when crossing the road

Hold on to the swing

Hold the door open for everyone.

Unless they’re too far away— it gets awkward

Don’t spend longer than 10 minutes on hold

Don’t hold onto your pee too long. It’s bad for you

Maximum hold hairspray is only for special occasions

Hold your breath when using maximum hold hairspray

Hold on, I’m a coming

Hold your head up high

Don’t hold onto people who aren’t trying to hold onto you

Hold faith

Hold yourself in high regard

Hold the people in your life to high standards

Hold yourself to higher ones

Hold your bag across your body

Hold the line

Hold dinner parties

Hold up those who can’t hold up themselves

But make sure someone is holding you*

*I will always be holding you

Hold on tight

Especially when you think you can’t hold on anymore

Hold fast

Hold out for the right man

Don’t hold back

If someone promises you something, hold them to it

Don’t hold back your tears, emotions or thoughts. They all have value.

Hold that plank a little longer

Hold everything in perspective

Hold my hand when crossing the road… and the path… and the raging river and the slow stream and when you’ve gone ahead across the ocean and when we’re only a metre apart and when you don’t want to and when you don’t need to and when you do and when you try and when you’re not sure and especially when you just don’t know.

Hold my hand and don’t ever let go.

~

Thank you for holding me in your womb, your arms, your respect, your esteem and in high regard. I hold you dearer than you will ever know.

Love, Amy

she stands- a poem for IWD.

I stand-

Bold, posed, tense with all the
best of intents
in front of her- the girl who knows-

who has seen, she who is me, I-

build and grind
and work-
I fought
and sweat
and stunk and sunk
and pushed and climbed and fell
and clawed my way back to some semblance of her- the other girl in the room

the warrior//

until-

a noise snaps against the locked out world and breaks-

loaded with unheard and unsaid and unintended?

Pinpricks

Glass shatters in all the wrong ways

 

she who is me who is I is pierced

deflates

shrinks

to

smiling sweet soft simple shapes
of smallness all cheeks

no cheek//

-am I in your way- sotto voce statements not questions because by being here I am

Or at least that’s what I’ve been told

I glance- the warrior in shattered states stares in disdain and the shoulders upon which I stumble slump in disappointment

Shards of eyes flash as sliding shame overcomes the corner I’ve relegated my self to and banishes the legacies of those who came before from existence.

Discarded because-words not said by him who invaded-

No, who I let invade-

No, who I was told would-

No, who may have inv-

No- I don’t know whose fault this is but now it is mine and that is not what she taught me but is what I’ve been taught and now I don’t, cant, wont but want to

Stop.

The shattered warrior with scars mirrors my twisting, enchained limbs
sighing

Why do I let- accept- fault blame shame overtake when
warriors who came before

Did not

Would not

And they:

My muscled footholds
my petite proforma
my mouthy platforms
my softly silent soap boxes
They flew
into the glass I stare

At now and didn’t care who saw

Their strength

Or bruises

Or cuts

Or tears

Or weakness

Or fears because it was all

Theirs to own

//

The Sound that Shattered
continues in a buzz- unaware of power and shame-

Metal against iron

Clamping down
measured breaths of purpose and precision

Planning and decision

The soundtrack doesn’t bother the shattered warrior and

i-

she who is me-

have turned it up for long enough

 

untwisting- she who is me- I stand

 

and own the action and the feat and the fact that

I owe my ownership to those who heard the noise when it was meant to pierce drums but kept beating

To those who read warnings on packets and pickets and strode deeper, thicker
to those who played the game

And forged the ways I walk

in

on

through

with

no shame- shattered or not-

paths taken and rocked-

words spoken and mocked-

legs shaking and locked…

they walked.

 

so it’s the least I can do to

stand.