August 2014
To You,
I'm an alcoholic.
Like any true alcoholic
I accept no absolutes
outside of the bottled variety.
Nothing is true without adequate testing
including the truth that I'm an alcoholic.
Each leaf of truth cast down
by those much taller and sturdier than I
has been crushed into a palatable consistency
to put in my pipe and smoke.
I have ground great piles of wisdom
into a coarse collection of words:
God and Goodness
Motherhood and Moderation
Wife and Work
and burned them.
So long I've sat lost in hazy firelight
exhaling only smoke and hot air
that I've forgotten the shape of my body and
my mind can't assemble all of the real I've dismantled.
I've become an edge-less form
unable to outline myself.
I want to be a woman
with soft curves and a sweet mouth.
I want to be a woman
with pillow-tipped fingers.
But first I must be a human
that doesn't always bind myself
into the saddle of discomfort
and ride off in search of things to set ablaze.
This is a truth that I hold a match to
this night and every night
as I consider whether or not to fill my glass.
Your Friend,
A
I discovered that the original flag was missing and replaced it with this...
ReplyDeleteIn the foreword of Brave New World Aldous Huxley writes:
Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable
sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you
can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no
account brood over your wrong-doing. Rolling in the muck is not the best
way of getting clean.
As someone who has behaved badly, I felt great relief when I discovered this passage over two years ago. It was as though I had finally been given permission to stop pummeling myself, something any guilty person with a conscience would celebrate. However, I have found it surprisingly impossible to abide by Huxley's recommendation. I feel guilty for trying to cast off the guilt accrued for my collection of wrong-doing. It is as though there is an on-going debate between my past, present, and future selves. Past Self wields guilt in self-flagellation, arguing that my penance is my suffering. Future Self argues for change, suggesting that I can't be useful if I'm crippled by guilt. Present Self is humbled by confusion.
Your Friend,
A