one hundred & twenty eight: embody

i aspire to embody love.

(where embody is taken to mean: to manifest, stand for, represent, give human form to, symbolize, epitomize.)

if i do anything in this life, i mostly just want to be love. coz maybe, just maybe, i could make something good out of the shitshow of my innards, my gross past, my grief, my shame, my family’s rejection of me, my guilt. re-purpose it, re-jig it, come to re-know it as something of which i can be proud.

*

coz yeah, i also want to be in my body, just generally. like, inhabit it. live in it. feel grounded in it. maybe even like it?

no small feat when i’ve spent years loathing it without quite knowing why, trying to ignore its comings and goings and gurglings and reminders. stuffing it and shaming it and punishing it.

*

the closest i ever felt to gratitude for my body was while i carried our daughter. i was curious about how it felt; had to attend to it, pay it heed. my body made me hear it, and for the first time, i wanted to listen. i was, quite literally, embodying another human form, within mine, and i was alternately awe-struck and terrified.

*

i just want to feel like myself in my body. to walk past a mirror and not think, ugh. or to walk past a mirror and actually, purposefully look in it (rather than avert my eyes). to see myself reflected back, my self-in-body.

myself, embodied.

one hundred & twenty seven: muted

my first thought about this word was not in terms of sound, but of a visual…of muted colours. softer, less vibrant palettes. unoffensive colours, like those you’d see in a hospice, or a nursery, or a therapist’s office.

and then i just thought of what being muted means, in other senses: the notion of being dulled down. quieted. dimmed. reduced. muffled. diminished. a gradual decrescendo, the ploy to make someone invisible.

an asset to every abuser’s toolkit.