Poem: I thought you were the one

A (very) long time ago, when I was young and sentimental, someone broke my heart and I decided to write about it. Here, finally, I’m making that public.

I hope you enjoy it. It’s the only poem I wrote as a teenager that doesn’t make me cringe.

**

I thought you were the one.
I thought you’d understand.
I thought we’d spend eternity
walking hand in hand.

You promised me forever;
it couldn’t have been lies.
I know how much you loved me;
I saw it in your eyes.

You wanted me intensely
and before I knew I fell,
no longer able to stop myself,
completely under your spell.

I gave you my love, my life, my heart,
my mind, my body, my soul.
I was overcome by love for you.
I surrendered all control.

My knight in shining armour.
My angel here on Earth.
No words described my love for you
nor made you see your worth.

But nothing lasts forever,
a lesson you taught me well.
You ended my dreams that fateful day
you tolled the final bell.

And now the rose is wilting
and the sky is turning black.
My world, it lies in pieces;
there is no turning back.

‘Cause nothing lasts forever;
you broke my heart in two.
Nothing lasts forever;
reality seeps through.

Now I see things clearly
and it makes me sad to say
your yellow streak is showing:
you threw our love away.

But I will not let this break me.
It will not bring me down.
I’m stronger than you ever were.
I hold my head up, proud.

I’ve heard the wisdom of the years;
I’ve learnt from pain and grief.
I’ve grown through love and losing,
learnt what life’s had to teach.

Whilst I mourn that which I’ve lost
I hold the pain inside.
This will only make me stronger;
you will not see me cry

For a love I lost to fear
and the weakness of a man
who’ll one day come to realise
he should have cherished what he had.

I do not fear the future,
do not regret what’s gone.
I learnt a long time ago that
life always goes on.



On an anniversary of loss

Today is not my favourite day. It should be. Today, 8 years ago, my baby boy was born. Of course, he’s a dog, not an actual baby, but why should that make a difference? It’s also Armistice Day although, sad as that is, it’s not the source of my grief. I value that as a society we set aside time to honour and mourn those who gave their lives so we could live in freedom. Let us never forget their sacrifice or the pain and misery it entailed.

No, today is the day, exactly one year ago, I lost a woman who meant the world to me.

My grandmother was a strong, capable, intelligent lady. She took maths and science with the boys during college, an achievement in itself, and eventually became dux of her school. She came top in the country for her piano exams after studying with the nuns of St Mary’s. She was a teacher, a loving wife, a caring mother. And she was one of the people I have loved most in my lifetime.

I could tell the story of the slow and excruciating demise dementia wrought on one of the most intelligent women I have ever known. I could tell you how it felt to realise she no longer knew who I was. I could tell you how amazed I was that my surgery, set for this day 12 months ago, was moved forward three days without notice and I could tell you what it was like to be at home when she died instead of in theatre. I could tell you how it felt not to be able to say goodbye before she passed. I could tell you about the tears running down my face as I write this, or the hours I’ve spent in tattoo studios inking her memory into my skin. And I could tell you about the hole I have had in my heart every day since I lost her.

Or I could share with you the eulogy I wrote for her funeral and hope that in some small way it expresses the depth of the pain I felt at losing a woman who was more a second mother to me than just another elderly relative. And I could ask that if you have anything to spare you donate to Alzheimers New Zealand so that maybe, one day, women like my grandmother don’t have to deteriorate in the tempered and painful way permanent memory loss entails.

 

**

 

No more nights in silence
No more heated meals
No more “borrowed” handbags
Filled with “borrowed” little steals.

No more talk of madness
My darker days are through
No more talk of sadness
Or of pain & guilt & truth.

Remember me with fondness
A life not lived in vain
Remember not my struggles
Remember not my pain.

I was not always ageing
Not frail with hands of blue
I was once young and vibrant
With a heart that loved you true.

Weep not for me in earnest
I have passed to greener fields
Weep not for loss of living
For my wounds have all been healed.

Weep not for me in sorrow
Let your grief not lay you low
I shall not suffer any more
It was my time to go.

Weep not for missing family
We all know this was best
Weep not for bittersweet memories
My soul is now at rest.

There’ll be no more awkward pauses
No more lonely days
Although my candle may be doused
My light will never fade.



I care about my weight

I know this post may be a little controversial but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I know so many people who are happy and healthy in their own skin, no matter their size or circumstances. I love those people. I applaud those people. I am not one of those people. I believe everyone has the right to do or be what they choose. And I choose not to be fat and unhealthy anymore. I choose to improve my circumstances.

 

***

 

I care about my weight.

I care that I can’t tie my own shoes.

I care that I can’t sit down comfortably when I’m wearing pants.

I care that my bottom no longer fits properly in most café or public transport chairs.

I care about my self-esteem.

I care that people don’t pay attention to me.

I care that I live in a society where any of this even matters.

I care about the glazed look some people get in their eyes when they talk to me.

I care that I don’t get catcalled.

I care that I care about being catcalled.

I care that my opinion of myself has sunk so low.

I care that all of this makes me feel I am not worthy of even the lowest form or male-female attention.

I care that I can’t walk up stairs.

I care that I can’t walk along the beach.

I care that I have to make excuses when people invite me to “active” events.

I care that the thought of having to keep up with someone while walking up hill terrifies me.

I care about my body.

I care about my health.

I care about my self-image.

I care that I let myself become so unfit and unhealthy.

I care about my future.

I care that heart disease runs in my family.

I care that I feel like I may spend my life alone.

I care that I may one day be too unwell to run around with my own children.

I care about my weight.

 



Thank you

To the laughers and jokers for making me smile

To the winners and grinners through triumphs and trials

To the mothers and aunties for prodding me on

To the brothers and uncles for making me strong

To the lovers and lovelies who give all they have

To my friends and my whanau for having my back