Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The Hours Between

Mornings are new and
evenings are wistful,
And both lull us in different ways.
One with the peaceful promise
of a beginning; a fresh start.
The other with celebratory
offerings that fold
day into night,
present into past,
do's into done's,
And a reminder that this is not forever.
This is just for now.
Whatever dreams left not chased today,
Will linger there tomorrow.
And we breathe.
Because so many live
to make it through those hours
nestled between,
forgetting that life isn't
measured in goals.
Or do's.
Or should have's.
It's measured in steps,
and journeys.
In laughter.
In promise.
We all breathe.
Because we look around...
And we remember.




By: Elizabeth N. Schmidt























Friday, September 27, 2013

Stuck in a Rut


Loving yourself. It’s a struggle. I’ve written about it numerous times, but I’ve skimped here and there on the true feelings. I figured if I kept it to myself, the shame wouldn’t be as bad. But, it is. If you know me, you know I am fat. There is no graceful way of saying it. I am still learning to come to terms with the word itself. “Fat.” It is, after all, just a word. But, it’s a word with so many different connotations, mostly negative. As I sit typing this, I am all too aware of the large legs folded beneath me, the belly that expands outward, touching the edge of the computer. I am aware that I have a double chin as I glance down at the keyboard occasionally. Of the stubby fingers typing the very words you are reading. And there are questions bouncing around in my head. Questions that always seem to be present, just at varying levels.

How did I allow myself to get all the way back here?

Why can’t I control this?

Why is it so hard?

Can I love myself now, and still strive to be better?

How? 

How can you love someone whom you deem undeserving?

What if I fail?

What worries me most is not the questions, but the abounding lack of answers for them.

 

When I say it is a struggle- I mean it. Literally and metaphorically.

*Pick up the (chips, cookies, crackers, cereal)*Look at it*Put it in the cart*Think of how it will make you fatter*You will look absurd*Your face is the first place it will show*Put it back on the shelf*Think you could just buy it this once, and make up for it later*Later*Later*Put (chips, cookies, crackers, cereal) back in the cart*Walk around the store, obsessing about said decision*Contemplate putting it back*

In the end I either buy it, or I don’t. But, they both result in the same emotional power trip.  If I buy it, what does that say about me? I am weak. I have no willpower. I am fat because I am weak and have no willpower. It’s especially bad once the consummation is over. Regret. Wondering why did I did it. Telling yourself that this- this is why you’re fat. Forget that I haven’t eaten today. Or that maybe I am human and make mistakes. All logic is out the window.

If I don’t buy it, I still obsess over it being so hard NOT to buy something that others wouldn’t give a second thought. It goes from being a healthy physical decision to a poor emotional state. It’s not normal I would tell myself. It’s just not normal to crave food so badly. I become resentful that my body works differently than others. I resent the PcOS, and the fact that even eating a sandwich on whole wheat bread is punishable. I am infuriated that I can’t even use portion control for a moderate serving of potatoes or grits. It pisses me off that I will never really be able to drink orange juice without the carbohydrates haunting me. And, so- in return- all of that frustration and anger comes out in the one way it should not: self-loathing.

Now-I am, for the most part, a relatively happy person. But, people often confuse happiness for confidence. I like to  implement the whole “fake it till you make it” regimen, personally. Don’t get me wrong, I am confident in many areas. But, when it counts, let’s just say my skills are…less than stellar. This would come as a surprise to many people, but for those who truly know me- they know my struggle. I sometimes feel as if my head/heart have two different sections. One says, “Love yourself right now. You have no obligations to change for anyone. Don’t conform.” The other says, “You need to get your sh*t together. You can’t change society. There are more of them than there are of you, and you have to live in this world. Their world.” Somewhere, long ago, I learned to base my self-worth on my weight and on the number on the scale or in my pants. I learned to allow others to designate my happiness with my own body. I used to literally hate everything I saw when I looked in the mirror. And, although I don’t feel that way anymore, I’m not where I need to be. I gather inspiration from women such as Tess Munster Rosie Mercado who flaunt their curves and own their style. Who give the middle finger to those who try to destroy them. Do they have their bad days? Of course. But, I often wonder if they have felt the things I have felt. The loneliness. The frustration. The need to want to isolate at times. I wonder if they have ever nearly cried in the middle of a restaurant because they wanted to make a healthy choice, but couldn’t decide if doing so made them a conformist or if not doing so made them just another fat chic. Sometimes, you just want a burger. Because you’re human. You just happen to also be fat. And other times, you just abstain from eating all together. Because you just happen to be fat. As I said, the results are always the same.

Loving yourself. Totally. Wholly. Completely. It’s a struggle. But, I’m really, really…trying to win it.

















Thursday, June 6, 2013

Counting in Lasts

Everything is changing-
I can feel it all around me.
And, it’s exciting, if not slightly
terrifying.
Bittersweet.
And slowly, you begin to count in
lasts.
Christmases, birthdays, everyday
lasts.
It’s saying goodbye to a part of myself
that is all I’ve ever known.
It’s packing memories in boxes, and
touching walls, remembering how the
grain lines in the wood formed faces.
How I got a splinter right here.
How those four structures knew me better
than any other being, and how I knew my
secrets would be safe-
even if the walls could talk.
Home never rebels against you.
It’s the sudden, sharp realization that the
people, scenery, sounds, smells-
they’ll all be different.
It’s the comfort in knowing that they still exist.
Yes, even without me, they are still.
She will mow and clean the pool.
He will cook and take off the garbage.
The will come together; remember why they
fell in love. Remember how I came to be.
Dogs will bark and play. Sleep. Protect.
They might forget me.
Grass will grow. It will rain.
Babies will be born. People will get old.
Death with touch when it is not expected.
And, also, when it is.
Life will go on, and move forward
in this little place that’s become so much
a part of me.
I will go too.
I will learn to count in firsts again.
Christmases, birthdays, everyday
firsts.
Different, but beautiful all the same.
And, I will be happy.




Tuesday, May 28, 2013

And I feel it. And it's real.

There are moments when I watch you beside me- sleeping. The rise and fall of your chest moving in sync with my own. Your body so relaxed; peaceful. Your five o'clock shadow feels rough against my hand as I stroke your cheek. In this moment, I want to tell you so many things. Everything. How my heart still skips a beat when you reach out and hold my hand. How I think, in some ways, you've saved me from a life for which I was merely settling. How I never, ever thought I would have someone who looks at me the way that you do. How amazingly more beautiful my name sounds coming from your mouth. How hard it has been for me to tear down my walls, yet knowing that I wouldn't have done it for anyone else. How you've made me re-evaluate everything I've ever thought about love or being in love. How rewarding it's been to watch you grow and learn. How I can't wait to see you become the person you've always wanted to be. How much I adore who you are already. But, I say none of this. I don't want to disrupt the moment. So, I merely whisper, "I love you." It floats in the air between us, filling the space. Joining us together. As I lean in, our lips slightly touching, your eyelids flutter open, and your hand squeezes mine.
"I love you, too," you say.
And I feel it. And it's real.










Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Then Came You


After heartbreak there is
nothing.
For so long there is only emptiness.
Shallowness.
No focus.
No purpose.
Then came you.
With your laughter-
which was contagious.
Your warmth,
taking me over from the
Inside,
Out.
Then came you.
With words that carried
weight, and left
their footprints on my
heart.
With passion, and drive, and
Fervor.
You.
You.
You.
All wrapped up in me.
In me.
In stolen moments, and
lingered embraces.
And the nothingness
fades.
Then, there is something.
Then, there is you.
Only you.  







When She Goes, There are Things that Will Go With Her


When she goes,
there are things that will go with her.
Closets will be emptied,
Drawers depleted of their
former inhabitants.
Shoes that used to be strewn across
the floor,
Now invisible-
no longer there to be tripped over or cursed.
Bottles that used to line the vanity,
leave only their shadows
and faint scents.
Laughter and conversations
that used to bounce from the corners
of the rooms
are still.
There is a vacant, hollow feeling that is
left behind
in the spaces she used to fill.
But, just as every other moment,
So is this- fleeting.
For just as she's gone, so will she linger.
When she goes,
there are things that will go with her.
But, the most important things remain.



Saturday, October 27, 2012

Hurricane

You're blowing through,
like a steady moving hurricane.
You leave a trail behind
a thousand memories wide-
Yet, you place the blame
At my feet, the same ones
that haven't felt the ground in quite
some time,
Still there you go, walking away.
But, just far enough that I can't
leave you behind.
Quick, you remind me that
I must stay
Under lock and key, and your
watchful eyes,
Tied up, bound beneath all
your lies.
And the promise that things
would get better with time.
But, the victim shouldn't pay for the
criminal's crime.
So, I'm flat on the floor,
with the dark skies above.
And, I tell myself hate isn't a
measure of love.
Because the winds will calm,
and the skies will clear,
And I'll be so much better-
Without you here.