Cup

This is it, the big one

The debridement of my most primordial wound

Dissection of what my parents did and didn’t do

Releasing us both from the impossible task of fulfilling each other’s expectations

Seeing them for the first time as the narcissists they are

Pretending to love me only when I made them look good

Spitting on me with their words and crushing me under the boots of their ego when I was hurting

When I needed them most they abandoned me

Like childish bullies, they took no responsibility for themselves or others

I’ve turned my face to them time and time again looking for love, searching in vain, coming up short

They refuse to see the parts of me that they don’t want to

My father told me I was flabby and looked like a monster when I was 15 years old

I subsisted on a high-glycemic diet stolen from my workplace because there wasn’t enough food at home, which resulted in weight gain and horrendous acne

I didn’t see my father for what he was; a negligent parent and an asshole.

Instead I wallowed in sorrow for my innate deficiencies, contemplated suicide because I wasn’t beautiful enough

Don’t worry Dad, I was still attractive enough to get raped enough times to lose count

As if you care

I can’t imagine treating my child the way you treat me

Lord, help these wounds heal

I am ready to move on, to break the inter-generational chain of toxic parenting

To write a new song instead of the broken-record of your critical dialogue

You can live your life in crisis mode, but don’t impose your crises on me anymore.

You imprinted your patterns of anxiety on my developing body and brain

I felt the need to gain the gushing approval of everyone around me

To be the smartest, prettiest and most accomplished in the room

I made many men swoon

I don’t need that anymore

Take your booze and do with it what you will

My cup is full

I depend on no man to keep it filled

Break Out

Another volcano appears on my skin; painful and angry.

God only knows how many have surfaced and eventually healed.

I’d say that my acne appears out of nowhere, but I have a strong suspicion that my unbalanced lifestyle is at the root.

My fingers trace the latest eruption like braille, decoding the message my body is trying to tell me, has been trying to tell me since the first zit appeared on my face 27 years ago.

I hear, see, and feel you, body

You are my friend and not my enemy

You taught me to see symptoms as symbols, like how my shiny face embodies the way I mirror whoever is in front of me.

You quietly protest that I stop convincing myself of the lie that I don’t have time to take care of myself or to nourish myself adequately, that I am unworthy of love.

‘Break free from outdated beliefs that are no longer serving you’ you whisper nearly imperceptibly.

Your sage wisdom is getting harder to ignore.