I Am

I found this poem while searching through my old emails and Word documents.  I wrote it during the darkest period of recovery, when eating anything other than fruits and vegetables made me break out in an anxious sweat, when I hid running shoes in my car so that I could still go on 5 mile runs, when life seemed bleak and I was exhausted and I knew I needed something to help me live.

It’s painful to read this poem now.  But hopefully me sharing it will be a testimony…that recovery is possible.  Hope is possible.  Life is possible.





I Am


I am

An 82 Pound Frailty

heart maniacally pumping beneath ribs


sputtering                    out                   dying               beats

an ache in the pit of my stomach

from food that was never there

the emptiness eating itself away.


I am


self medicated

the first tantalizing dip toes barely touching the edge

then I’m swimming

plunging deeper through deep cold blankets

No longer can I feel my skin, just the rush

It calls me and I can’t stop.

How long can I hold my breath?

Eventually I have to break the surface.


I am

An Orphan

I have a bed

I have food

I have shelter

But where is the warm embrace

Where is the love that tells me

No no no shhhhhh everything will be ok ok ok ok shhhhhh

I have no breath when I sleep in the bed alone

I have no hunger pains but a fullness of fear

I have a chair waiting to be sat in, an empty home I have grown to hate.

I am looking for a place to rest my head.


I am

The Hope

Of paint stained fingers crafting words of freedom and love

Of toothy laughs becoming songs of joy

Of eyes that will see the world as it truly is

Of feet willing and able to journey to make a change in that same world

Of life being reborn.


I am

A Puzzle


find the edges first

then fill in the middle

look for the pieces with the same colors

and patterns

fit their rounded sides together

so we can clap our hands with delight

and stare with wonder and awe

at the finished product.

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