This is how I see myself -
25 and sweet,
Thinner;
A universe inside me
Full of love and patience,
Laughter and exuberance,
A womb still able to welcome children,
Forgiveness and wisdom,
Precious to those who love me,
Loyal to any end.

Of course it isn't true
And never can be.

I've done my share of lashing out
And I'm not proud.
My tongue has known
The bitter taste of shredding
And I'm not proud.
I've used my size more than once
To keep from being hurt, or
To prove my own point.
Jesus knows I'm ashamed.

But in my heart I have a vision
Where there is no sense of entitlement,
Not a trace of bitter,
No dark circles under eyes
Too tired to take it all in.
There is no sad girl lurking
Just behind the curtains
Wanting to die.

Some people have multiple personalities
To deal with the different emotions they can't handle.
I have them too,
But I know each of them,
And am trying to make peace.
It's been a long 45 year old journey
And I'm still not there.

There is the little girl
Who wants, still, to please mommy by going away.
She was told that she was hated,
And there are times when she still hears
And believes,
Despite years of being loved by others.
After all, her own mama couldn't love her,
So she must be a truly awful girl
Ugly.
Fat.
Useless.

There is another little girl,
Taught to be seductive by the likes
Of a "father" who adored little hands.
She was precious to him for her touch,
But bitterly rejected
When she finally said "no."
She is mostly angry at a world
Where her value is determined
By what she gives
Even when she feels defiled.

There is an older brother in me, too,
Toughness hiding far beneath layers and layers
Of the deepest humiliation
That even he couldn't save her.
He peeks out now and again
Through a pair of boy's sneakers,
Arm wrestling the stronger men
And winning sometimes;
Oversized clothes
And the shock of cussing.

And there is the teenage virgin,
The girl who waited until marriage
To share herself with one man,
Virtuous and calm,
Pious and reasonable,
Full of faith.
Ah, but her time has passed,
And she sits quietly with her chin in her hand,
In the wake of a line of men
Who didn't deserve her smiles,
Watching out the window for another chance,
Another life to make it all ok.

And there is the angry young mama
Surrounded by dirty cereal bowls,
Broken toys,
And mountains of laundry,
Haunted by the husband who slept through it all,
Who divorced her in her despair
When she couldn't take another step.
He took all the children in a deluge of
Half-truths and outright lies.
It's not that she wasn't damaged,
Or that she wasn't responsible for failing.
She understands her short comings,
But couldn't see beyond them in time.
Now that woman sleeps it off,
Waiting until another alarm sounds,
Hoping she can do better.

There are others, I suppose
Lesser in their presence than these.
I feel them all with me
Every day.
I catch the edge of their arguments about why
I don't deserve joy or peace.
Sometimes I give them a voice,
Perhaps its their due,
Recompense for healing they never experienced
As if I could make up for it.

And finally, there is the woman I am,
Aging, going forward every day,
Gathering up the fragments in some attempt
To make some sense of it all,
Sometimes treasured by
Various men who see beyond the shell
To the inside,
Who learn to love and nurture all of us,
Even if they do fumble a little in the process
Sometimes crying in my despair,
Stroking my hair and telling me
They want to help see us all through it,
Even though my future is solely mine.

This is how I know myself,
All my selves,
And what I've been through,
The pain I've endured
And the pain I've inflicted -
And my best efforts to make it all ok.
Sometimes it's the girl in the mirror
And sometimes it's everything
I have left to do,
The beauty,
When I see hope in that reflection
Instead of what's really there.

06/16/2008

Posted on 06/16/2008
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie