sometimes I forget what being sick means

Sometimes, when things go well for a long enough time, when I have enough good days in a row, I forget what it's like not to have control over my emotions. I forget what it's like to be sick with this stupid disease. And then feeling like this again...I hate it. I hate this stupid, stupid sickness. I hope maybe tonight I just need sleep and I'll feel better in the morning. I hope this isn't about to turn into a full-scale episode. I hope I can get out of bed and go to class and work and lab hours without wanting to cry or scream or drive really fast into oncoming traffic. By now I know that's not how this disease works. I won't feel better in the morning. This is the way all my episodes start. And it will be nearly impossible to function until the episode passes. But I hope I will wake up rested anyway. I know I won't. But I hope to.

I owe the world an apology, so here it is.

I’ve always been an incredibly straight-forward person. I generally try to be truthful and honest, but I’m also pretty blunt, sometimes harshly so, and it’s gotten me into trouble more than once. I’m hoping this time it will do the opposite.

I need help. Lately, I have not been a good person. I have made many, many poor decisions and many, many mistakes, and these mistakes have hurt people.  I have hurt myself and I have hurt others, intentionally or not. If you are one of those people who I’ve hurt through a word, an action, a decision, a mistake, please believe me when I say I am so, so terribly sorry.

I’ve been falling into this pit, and I have felt so helpless to do anything to stop it, to change it, to turn around and be a better, stronger, more courageous, pure person. I haven’t been able to— I’ve been stumbling in this darkness, sinking lower with every passing day, with every tick of my watch, completely disoriented and confused, with no clear idea of what to do, where I am, who I am. I think this week I finally hit the bottom of the pit, slammed into it full-force, and realized I don’t want to be this person. I never really did. Everything just kind of happened before I could fully grasp it, and the times I did, it was so much easier to pretend I didn’t care or couldn’t change it. Truthfully, I lacked the courage, the strength, the conviction.

I still lack the courage; I am still weak-willed— but I have also reached the place where I am willing to fight through it, to struggle and to claw my way out of the pit, but I cannot do this alone. Climbing out of the darkness is going to be difficult; it is going to be painful. Perhaps it will be as difficult and painful as the descent, or even more so, but I believe it will bring infinitely greater things. Eventually I will walk in the light again. I hope you will be able to forgive me and walk with me once I get there.

In all sincerity,

Elizabeth

Yes, I broke my jaw. Yes, I'm fine.

To all of my beautiful, caring, and concerned friends who keep asking...
Yes, I did break my jaw (in three places, actually); and yes, I am fine.

Gasp! But Liz, how ever did you do that?!

This past Saturday, I had lovely adventures in New Buffalo with my bestie Danielle, her boyfriend Joe, and our friend Jim. It was a magical day of sand castles, swimming, and laughter. I still consider it the most fun day of my summer so far. Toward the end of the day, we were climbing the big rocks on the beach, something I do every single time I'm in New Buffalo. This time, I somehow slipped on the rocks and landed chin-first. It happened very quickly, and no, I don't really remember exactly how. The impact resulted in two hairline fractures- one on my chin and one on the right side of my jaw- and a clean break on my left condyle (part of the TMJ). I also bit the sides of my tongue pretty well (there was an awful lot of blood), bruised my left knee and the palm of my right hand, and had five stitches in my chin. A few of my teeth were also kicked slightly out of place.

That's awful! Are you okay?


Miraculously (and I do mean that), none of my fractures require surgery. Tuesday, the wonderful Dr. Benson of Michigan City, IN, reset my jaw and wired my mouth shut. My jaw will be wired like this for two weeks and then held shut with rubber bands for a week. The fractures will (basically) heal on their own. Yes, I still have many hurdles to overcome, and yes, I'm quite sore. I have a prescription for Norco, a relatively strong painkiller that I take every four hours. You will also find me frequently holding a bag of frozen peas to my face. Next summer (when I'm living at home and not running all over the country), I'll have to get braces (again) to straighten my teeth and further correct the damage to my bite.

Someone was really looking out for you!


Yes, yes, Someone was. I've been joking that I'm the only person who could trip and wind up breaking their jaw in three places, but this could easily have been a more traumatic injury. God has really been on my side this week. It's been a humbling reminder of exactly how perfect His plans are. My parents have repeatedly pointed out that I could have hit my eye, or my head, or even suffered brain or spinal damage from my fall. I am very, very blessed to be doing as well as I am, and I thank God for watching out for me. I mean, honestly...my biggest concerns are that I can't brush the inside of my teeth and I had to remove my lip piercing...WOW I am blessed!! I am talking, walking, and laughing with my family and friends. This coming Tuesday, I will still be leaving to spend my summer with the Troopers!!

 I am very, very thankful to be on the road to recovery, and to have been kept as safe and healthy as I am. So, thank you to everyone for your concern, support, and prayers...but yes, I am doing quite well and I will be fine!! (Although, I probably won't climb the rocks at the beach any time soon...)

Diary of a Skinny B*tch

Hi, my name is Elizabeth, and I’m one of those girls other girls look at and mutter to themselves, “Skinny bitch.” This is something that irked me throughout my adolescence and continues to frustrate me in my early adulthood. Many of my close friends have had the dubious “honor” of listening to this little rant of mine in the past, but I feel it carries merit and ought to be heard.

Our society today is a contradiction: media outlets- magazines, television, commercials, et cetera— advertise false, photo shopped ideals of beauty. Open any women’s magazine and you will find a model with flawless skin, a slim physique, exceptionally white teeth, perfect hair…you get the idea. This (unrealistic) standard of beauty imposes and perhaps even encourages low self-esteem in young women. In presenting this impossible standard of beauty as the one society desires— demands, even— our culture is telling girls and women they will never be enough. How could they? How could your average girl-next-door possibly be airbrushed perfection? She can’t. We can’t.

At the same time, there is now a burgeoning (and in many ways wonderful) counterculture calling for change in this type of media. Support for “regular” women is increasing; there are movements to stop the airbrushing, the photo shopping; more effort is being made to reassure the females of the world that they are enough, and they are beautiful the way they are (shout out to Bruno Mars, anyone?). However—yes, there is a however— this counterculture has its own flaws, which brings me to the overarching point of this little rant.

We, as a culture, cannot simultaneously tell women they are beautiful while belittling one body type or another. We cannot tell an average, curvy, or larger woman that her body is beautiful and tell a slim, slender, or skinny woman that her body is wrong, that she is wrong— and vice versa. Every woman is beautiful, and no woman deserves to be told there is something wrong with the way she looks.

That is, within this counterculture of female empowerment, with women retaking control over their self-esteem and body image, there remains a great deal of hate and, if I may call it such, prejudice. Whereas much of mainstream media eschews the “average” or “full-figure” body type and perpetuates an obsession with weight loss and magazine model-thinness, the counterculture is, at times, no better. Many, many times throughout the course of my life, I have felt uncomfortable, belittled, attacked for my body type. The counterculture movement seeks to reaffirm that women do not need to be model-thin to be beautiful—which, let me make clear, is absolutely true and I absolutely agree— but they often do this by attacking thin women. This is where I have a problem.

For example, a year or so ago, I came across an advice article on the internet, where a curvy young woman had written in asking if men liked bigger women. I’m not faulting the woman here (although the female preoccupation with “what men think” could entail several rants in and of itself), because I do believe all women have insecurities about their appearances and want to be found attractive. No, what irked me was the male respondent. He insisted that “real men” desire “real women” and proceeded to name several thin celebrities, labeling them as “gross,” “pre-pubescent,” and “against Nature’s intention [for the female body].” I understand what he was aiming for; he wanted to reassure the woman who posed the question that there was nothing wrong with being full-figured and that she is beautiful the way she is, which, again, is incredibly true. However, I think it’s a poor reflection to do so by criticizing more slender women. I believe we’re all taught this in early elementary school (or we all learned it by watching Mean Girls)…putting someone else down is a cheap way to lift yourself up.

My point, dear reader, is that no one has the right to berate someone else (male OR female) for their body type, whether thin, curvy, or somewhere in-between. The focus, and I believe this goes for everyone, should be on finding what is healthy for you and where you feel confident and happy. Different people have different body structures (and different ideals of beauty!). For example: I’m 5’7”, have no chest or rear end of which to speak, and am borderline underweight. This is, I believe, a combination of my build and my metabolism. I’m skinny— but I eat well, exercise regularly, and feel healthy. I don’t think it’s anyone else’s place to tell me I’m “gross” because I’m slim.

Additionally, like many other Americans, I don’t like when people make comments about my weight. If it’s considered impolite to remark on an overweight or obese person’s weight, why is it acceptable to tell me I’m too thin, I need to eat more, or call me a skinny bitch? Is that not along the same lines as telling an overweight person to stop eating, to go to the gym, et cetera? It's the same principle, and it’s hurtful both ways. Again, nobody deserves to be told there is something wrong with the way they look. Maybe we should all stop this preoccupation with everyone else’s bodies and what they think about our bodies and focus on being healthy and comfortable the way we are. (I would like to note, however, the importance of being healthy. If someone suffers from an eating disorder or is unhealthily overweight, yes, they may need help and support. However, they still do not deserve to be ridiculed or called names).

It has taken me many, many years to reach a place in my life where I am confident and comfortable in my own body. Some days I’m not. Some days I look in the mirror and wish I had a curvier build. Despite my best efforts through how I eat and exercise, I have yet to break 130 lbs on the scale. I hope to do so within the next six months, but even if I don’t, I have learned to love my body the way it is. I encourage you to do the same.
End rant. (:

Note:

Revisions posted to "Rhapsody for Horn..."; "Predator"; "Graupel." Continued subjectivity to change. Further revised and new poems to be posted in the near future.

Rhapsody for Horn, or the Jeremiah Weeping Papers

Rhapsody for Horn, or the Jeremiah Weeping Papers

I. Treble

I left

            the window      open,

found you

            creeping through;

closed my eyes,

red-rimmed and buried

                        beneath

your lips.

            my ears caught

the ghost of                  your pulse.

            you pressed

your name       

                        into my ribs.

I sighed a prayer

                        &let you in.

II. Overtone

I wear you, a now-familiar

                        nightshirt.

you caress

            my left-side chest,

                        measuring pulse,

            looking as if to memorize,

                        but you don’t say so.

Instead, you wrap

            yourself around me

                        our palms mirror

            hands on hearts.

Wide-eyed,

            I hold my tongue until

                        we share

            the same space,

                        the same sweet

            inhale

                        exhale.

you wear me well.

III. Rahab

You slip beneath

the curtain slit,

crawl into bed with me.

I want to ask you

how you are,

but already know

the answer.

You are silver, streaming

 into pieces, stashed

between the sheets.

Taste of metal, my lips

catch your

serrated edge,

bleed a little. You carve

me open

kiss the wounds until

we see what hides

beneath.

Layered skin

and muscles

pull away, reveal

raw pink insides.

I bite my tongue

bite your lip

my bruised flesh

begs your tender

misuse.

I press against you,

seeking

to sink into your

bones,

melt into your

forever touch—

 but

you are bolted lightning,

brief

and

heated.

Morning finds you missing,

my hands clench

the space

you leave

behind

IV. Vienna

Wrapped you

around myself-

or                     tried to, anyway.

Wanted you

to be the binding,

one       ripped

seam married

to the other.

You laughed                 at my clumsy fingers,

the stitch in your side

loose.

You kept

your                                         distance.

Wanted to keep my

pride,

but I never      

had talent for

the mending.

V. Adonis

I looked

for you today.

You were not where    

I remembered.

My hand found

the cage

around

the fleshy beat

you used

to measure,

pried away

your                 name,

but

it stained

my palm instead.

I left

            the window open,

prophet.

(Note: heavily revised)

predator

cobra    sink your

teeth

into this skin

again— if i

c    r    a    w    l    e    d

toward you

I would

b

u

r

y

myself beneath you:

sanctuary

of sinew— if i

draped

over

       your

ribs

and laid

b    a    r    e

veins hidden

in my throat,

would you infect the blood,

the bone?

i know

            you are             already

            there,               nightmare

sheen of fever

                      sweat, i   t/w\i/s\t

                                                the sheets

death

            r-a-t-t-l-e

                                    warns, i                        see

your emerald-yellow     eyes

                             over

                                    my shoulder

wicked charmer, i

                        know

you are                         p    a    r    a    l    y    t    i    c

i shake in all the places you                 

                                                are not,

                        beg your

venom  but—

it is

(almost)

morning           bruised light

bleeds

t    h    r    o    u    g    h

the                                           blinds,

illuminates my

reflection.

the eyes are

(almost)           my own;

your     emerald-yellow

remainder

s

e

e

p

s

            away    into

gray

        ish

dawn.

(Note: heavily revised)