Grief

I’ll admit, the voices in my interior Committees have some pretty brutal things to say to me.  But, let’s be clear, they don’t say anything that has not been said by someone before.

My Committee Members are not creative… they just parrot back the most unkind assessments and judgements that I have ever heard or read in RL or on the Internets- and they direct them at me.  They do it in a way that there will be no one to defend me… but myself, and I have a lousy track record of self-defence.

...and my Committees are currently in session.

I am a woman of unseemly sorrows.  I grieve for the loss of my helpmeets and friends; my long lost love of coffee, my daily, hourly, prayer of nicotine.  

That is where the lament starts, but it goes on to the aching loss of alcohol and last, but certainly not least, crystal meth.

It is grotesque but inevitable for me to grieve for these killers and distorters.  I think it may be something like the anguish that a mother of a mass murderer might feel when her sweet boy is dealt the death penalty.  Certainly, I don’t talk about missing these poisons with the sweet ladies of my church congregation; many of whom have never so much as touched a Dr. Pepper let alone a wine cooler.

I have only ever met one other active member of the LDS church who cops to having ever loved Crystal.  Other mourners may be out there, but they aren’t talking- just wearing their black armbands in private like I do.

Yet today, it’s autumn time and as the trees burn and blush, I will say out loud how I am swallowed up with grief and shame in equal measure.  Shame for who I was and also for what I have become.  

My body.

I love most of who I am, and what I do…. but my body…

People look at me and see an undisciplined woman.  A fat-ass.   A lazy cow.  Perhaps someone who could use a little bit of education on nutrition.  A girl who could stand to put down the spoon, already.  Go for a walk around the block.

Maybe you don’t see that, but some do.  I can read.  I have ears.

Undisciplined.  Lack of Willpower.  Lazy. Unorganized. Disgusting.

You have no idea, whatsoever, of who I am and where I come from, what I battle or what I have lost… but my Committees do.  

- and they think I'm a lazy fat-ass too.

I feel the shame, but strangely... not much regret.

I know I shouldn't post this, but right now I need... something. I think I need to be heard.