Good Bones

I’ve been ruminating a lot lately 

As I try to untangle webs of destruction 

From my internal monologues

Stories in which I’m ugly, unloveable, 

Too fucked up, too emotional, too fat,

Too bad with money, too reactionary,

Too… to be successful, safe, loved
I’ve been reading books

Like Rising Strong and

When Things Fall Apart

(Brené I also mispronounced Pema Chödrön’s name… I almost missed the umlauts) 

And I’m learning to challenge these

Stories I tell myself 

(With mixed results thus far)
So, as I was driving in the afternoon autumn sunshine today,

Weaving on a two-lane road over the hill

I spied a beautiful big old tree,

Leaves limned with gold

And turning orange over time,

Its branches were raised high,

Swept wide, curling and arcing over the ground,

And the sun behind it made the branches and trunk –

A thick, sturdy trunk with rough bark and some gnarls –

Look like a skeleton, dark against the blazing sun and glowing leaves,

And I thought – that tree has good bones
And suddenly, I thought about that term,

“Good bones”

And how it usually applies to dilapidated old houses

And deciding if they’re worth rehabbing

As my ex-husband and I once did with the HUD home we bought for $14,000

And proceeded to gut and rebuild

Because it had beauty and “good bones”
And I wondered if maybe I needed to extend that same

Generosity of spirit to my own Self
I don’t want to spend my time on this earth

Hating myself for being me

Or dieting and working out to fit into some ideal that won’t make me any more paletable

I don’t want to limit myself to foods that are xyz-free

Or feel guilty for enjoying dessert or lounging around 

Yes, I want to be healthier and need to move more often,

But following this 21 day plan

Or 4 week regimen

Or cleanse or fast or….

Is not going to make me happy with me

Because the reason I’m ashamed of my body

Is related to understanding why I use food as a drug

And that isn’t fixed magically by anything other than

Work on understanding, accepting, and forgiving myself

For choosing food as a way of feeling 

Loved, less anxious, less lonely,

As I struggled with the normal things most 

Kids do

And then added in the extremities of being bipolar
So, I’m going to commit myself to

My “good bones”

And all of the beautiful parts of me

That only those who know & love me

Probably can see –

Recognizing that

I need to work on 

Seeing those for myself 
Rough bark, wide trunk, gnarls, and all…

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2 thoughts on “Good Bones

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