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Dear Dismal Digestion,
We met in the summer of eighth grade
you didn’t knock on my door for a civilized visit
you slammed into me like a high-speed train on adderall
made me forget to breathe &
forget to want to breathe
undiagnosed gastrointestinal disorder they said
inconclusive tests
while they diagnosed, we danced:
you, me and pain
You changed me, unmade me and for a while I didn’t know
too much about anything. You were good at that—
making me doubt myself. Even my own body
wasn’t on my side. You made sure I knew
that the real monsters weren’t under my bed
but hiding in thoughts in my head that three months ago I wouldn’t have
recognized as mine. You showed me thoughts and monsters.
Reflections of myself (bloated, bitter, macerating in self-hate)
that I stepped into, like shoes that pinch, they left me swollen. You changed me.
But this/ isn’t about you. This is about me.
About how I changed myself.
I woke up one day with a dream in my hand
when all I’d had were nightmares,
a dream where I had gotten drunk on sky,
feasted on sunlight, a dream where my lungs had remembered
how to love the air
I woke up that day, tied to the railroad tracks, and decided
to get a new pair of shoes
decided
to walk, to jump,
to feel fourteen, instead of angry and afraid – to dance,
because I was fourteen
But first:
I grew claws and fought, hard, for my health
tooth and nail and sweat and bone
I didn’t fight pretty
but damn I fought pretty well
because I wanted it, bad
bad enough to let the walls down
enough to believe in myself when few others would
enough to spend months learning, researching, searching for a cure
or a compromise
I wanted it bad enough to swear off milkshakes, my favorite food group, and other rich, creamy things you loved to hate
enough to lift weights at the gym, even though I felt incredibly small and out of place
enough to be stubborn about it, to be determined and driven and dedicated and
enough to be brave
I still can’t eat fast food and I still get cramps and once in a while I still look 5 months pregnant but I just wanted to let you know that it’s ok, now
that I don’t hate you the way I used to
that I don’t hate myself the way I used to
In fact I’m liking myself a lot these days
liking what I see in myself when I look in the mirror
strength
resilience
courage
courage
courage
And you know I talk about you
about us
I tell people what you did to me
how you made me feel
how I stood up to you, said enough is enough
and you know they say How horrible!
But I don’t think you are
horrible, I mean, I don’t think you’re horrible because
you showed me thoughts and monsters but
what teenager hasn’t had to deal with those?
you showed me reflections of myself
bloated, bitter, macerating but also
strong, resilient and brave
I wasn’t this brave before.
And I know you don’t come around often anymore
but you’re always close by
So let’s catch up some time
I’ll show you sky, how to be brave and
how to get drunk on dreams
Yours always,
Joanna