Healing

Two episodes in one week. The truth of that reality stings. And burns, As I wipe away the remnants Of the chocolate and sugar-induced coma. I am a recovering bulimic and anorexic. And no I am not cured. My eating disorder has shape shifted a multitude of times, But it has not vanished. I am healing. I am still healing. It has been nearly eight years. I am 25. The second wave of disorder. The first when I was 12. Alone, Scared, And afraid. Always, Afraid. My wounds have not healed yet. How have they not healed yet? I feel myself slipping Through the cracks. My life is so tightly wound up. My body is in knots. I feel restricted. I can’t breathe. Only think, Always thinking. My outer life mirrors my rigid attempts to control And restrict life coming at me. I’ve always felt life coming at me, Like daggers into my exposed heart. My heart feels exposed, Open. A flesh wound that is ripe and ready. For desolation. Or transformation. I am not sure which, Maybe both. I want to fucking scream, To put words and sounds to this Fucking anxiety. Fucking Anxiety. This fear.. I hate you God, I loathe your pervasive presence. You are so afraid, Always waiting for the next attack. Never wanting to fight back, You only run. I don’t want you here. You, young, naïve child. I don’t have time for you. No, I don’t have time. Not for your terror, No, Not for your overwhelming Fear And Sadness, Anger, Or pain. You are weak. You are what’s wrong With me. These are the words I use against myself. Time after misguided Bullet. How do we use our words against ourselves? Against each other? Words of criticism, Hatred Condemnation, Violence, Judgment, Fear, And bigotry? These words are our shadows. My wounds, These wounds, Of all of us. We have not healed. We are still healing. Time is healing. The shadow is coming into the light, For healing. My shadow desperately hungers For healing, Though it may resist, And kick and scream. No, I am not fixed. We are not fixed. Because perhaps our brokenness Is the fix. Can we all face our brokenness? And turn toward it with words Of love? I am not sure. My own words feel so heavy. I see my choices In perception And darkness prevails. Maybe the power has been given To the darkness, To those voices of fear and hate. The violence is here, On our front doorsteps, In thoughts, words and actions. Inner And outer. It is time to rise Above the hateful words In all of us. Not outside of me, Or you. But inside. We may not choose who leads us Externally, But we can choose The power within. This is power True and absolute. Not power over, But power in, Each of us, The power to wield Love out of fear, Union out of division, Light out of dark. Hope is not lost, If we are still breathing. I am still breathing. We are all still breathing. No, Hope is not lost. No matter the setbacks. Each day is given, To choose again. Love. Healing. This is power. To rise above the old, By embracing the shadow. And to bless the past, With forgiveness. We are healing, You are healing. I am healing. Always. Again. And again.