Anna's poem (Adelaide, Australia)

It was rehearsed in my mind
To write some of this

Echoes of a past
I reclaim as my own

Yet there is no way to do justice
To a so-called illness,
of self inflicted pain
through over-exercising
and starvation

At it's noisy height
I was a conveyor belt,
Slave to a disease
Ravaging My existence.

Perfectionism can be an imprint.
A DNA
And common
For the falling.
The striving.
The escapists.

I can recall my defining moment.
When I found a way to control Me

I was to get super fit,
lean, free, empty...
The best I could be.
A private Ali.

" I am the greatest. "
would cure me...

I'd run for miles
In the fog
Dirt roads
Rain
And I was cruel about it.
Discipline
No room for slipups
Gaining control over my body
The only thing that belonged to 'me'
the thing that was completely 'mine'
Not dictated by 'them'...

In some respect I wanted to
Lose control Of worldy,
Accepted,
Societal existence.
You get empty.
Heavy. Light. Cold. Freezing.
Ravaged in darkness.

The hurt of the entire World
Can be felt this way
deeply
In your skeletal structure.

Oh love! There are no quick fixes
No vaccinations
For Sensitive ones

I always had
An element of wild
I thought I needed permission to fly
I didn’t

Who I was
Held no soft edges
Or room
Just careful surface moulding.

I was okay
On the outside
Smart.
Achieving,
Aargh.. that word!

Baring of the soul is scary
To onlookers
Who prefer to hide
Gossip
Behind comfortable windows
Muttering “Thank god, it’s not me”
If only they knew
How often it actually is....
their own children

This is how I got out
I found my healing hands
through craniosacral therapy
learned empathy
for self
and others 

I claimed my own self
Released hatred and control
Of the body
Let go of blaming early caretakers
And took my Self Back

I found that I held warm touch within
When I used it
It grew
Surprised me
My body is now a vehicle
​of care
I use to navigate the world
To hold, taste and touch

I have learned to embrace my name
To be Grace
It takes me away from that mean Self
And forward
Out of the suffering story
Into hope
Into curiosity for life
But I am still learning…
and that's okay you know.

Poem by Anna Grace
Copyright Made Beautiful by Scars 2016

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