I am trying to figure out
What to wear to my divorce
It isn't something you dream about
As a little girl
Getting married wasn't something I dreamt about
As a little girl
I wanted to sing
I made up songs everywhere I went
Careful not to let anyone hear
Unless I was on stage
I drew breath belly deep
Sure of the notes that would leave me
I wore black to my wedding
My recently dead great grandmother's brooch
Jewelry handmade by my best friend
It was hot
I cried during my vows
The first and last time
So many people would see me shed tears
They cried with me
When it was over
When the guests had gone home
The cupcakes had been eaten
We folded the chairs
Lowered the tents
Got eaten alive by bugs
We packed our gifts into the car
Went back to our apartment
Unloaded in a downpour
We said "I love you"
And we went to sleep
Like my wedding
My divorce is largely DIY
I farmed out the hard stuff
But nobody's picking up the check this time
I didn't think my wedding would be paid for, either
So perhaps there will be a surprise in the mail
I know there will be no gifts
None other than those which I've given myself
Those cannot be discounted
For I've given me myself
A sureness in being alone
Confidence in my own decisions
Do I also wear black to this?
My long dead great grandmother's brooch
It will be cool
Fall instead of high summer
Will I cry when asked to speak?
Or will I draw breath belly deep
Sure of the words that will leave me?
Will we say "I love you?"
Or part politely
Going our separate ways?
A divorce is not a failure
It's an admission that forever doesn't exist
It's a goodbye kiss
To ideals that weren't meant to bear fruit
It is digging a new bed in better soil
Planting hope where it has a chance to grow
Getting married wasn't something I dreamt about
As a little girl
Now maybe I will sing
Weaponize sex as
A bargaining tool
In a paltry war and
You cheapen it
Incentivize chores with the promise of
A conjugal visit
That probably isn't all that good
Just so you can have one more
Facet of control
Over someone who already does your
Ridiculous and petty bidding anyway
Rationalize your game of denial
When all you're doing is making
Fun turn foul
Sweet turn sour
For what ultimate gain
I'd like to be a fly on the wall
The first time
The second time
The eighth time
He can't perform anymore
And watch you fume at him
For a failing that's purely yours
Your pink petaled cage
May hold him now
But eventually he'll break out
Call you by your true name
I started by walking. 15 minutes here and there, but consistently. When I had time, I walked more. I'd been thinking about getting into better shape for a long time, but never worked past thinking because it would mean taking time for myself. Taking time for oneself is an inherently selfish act and I had to work past that.I walked exclusively for about a month and, on a Wednesday, I ordered a 10 and a 15 pound kettlebell. The day after, I broke my ankle. I let myself be depressed for three days and then I started swinging. I also did what I called Old Lady Chair Cardio because it was low impact and wouldn't impede my healing.I stayed in the cast for 9 weeks and I worked out the entire time.I'm an incredibly stubborn person and, when I want to do something, there's very little that will stop me.
Once I was out of the cast, I was able to start higher impact routines and lift more. I was careful to do things gradually because I'm easily discouraged if I don't do something well right out of the gate. I tried running and I hated it. What I do like are lifting, High Intensity Interval Training, Power Yoga, Pilates, and kickboxing. Strength training is really important for women. It reduces our risk for osteoporosis and makes us feel like total Amazons. Cardio and range of motion are also important for obvious reasons. I mix all of it up in a blender and it's infinitely variable with no boredom factor.I drink that exercise smoothie 6 days a week in 30 minute intervals plus 10-15 minutes of cool down and 30 or more minutes of walking.
I don't do gyms or classes because they're expensive and I'd have to leave my house or look presentable to do them. Those are not exactly motivators for me, but they are for some people. It gives them a reason to be accountable. I, on the other hand, want to look like a total wreck and be able to fall down without getting embarrassed. Comparison to other people is my worst enemy, so I don't do it and I don't put myself in a situation where I would have to. I want exercise to be fun and, while it does suck sometimes, I feel good when it's over.
It's vital to start slowly and have a realistic goal. I kicked off in June of last year, but wasn't serious about goal setting for a month. I was a 22 pant at the time and I wanted to be an 18. I wanted to buy pants off the rack at Old Navy. Nothing more.That was met by October. I had no weight in mind because those numbers make me historically insane. They still do.Today, I'm a size 10 and still on the downward trend. If I'm honest, I'm kind of annoyed because the amount of money I'm having to continually spend on clothes that fit is staggering. My goals have long since moved from a pants or dress size to a new thing I want to be better at (burpees, bridges, frogjumps, etc.) and push my body to new limits.
As to the nutrition part of things, I've always loved fruit and vegetables, so that's easy. I don't deprive myself of anything that I want, but it also helps that I've never been the sort to devour a pint or more of ice cream in a single sitting. I'm also a fan of simple carbs (pasta, rice, potatoes), but I don't actually eat them all that often and, when I do, not much of them. I would say to never eat anything labeled a diet food. They've reduced the fat and cranked up the sugar and salt to make it taste like something. Eat the cheese. Enjoy the full fat cream. Your body knows better what to do with those things than salt and sugar. Honestly. Protein is super important if you're looking to build muscle. I achieve this through meat, but I also often eat vegetarian, so beans and soy are my friends. A typical dinner for me is a bowl of salad, a bowl of roasted vegetables, and whatever entree I have around. That could be vegan sloppy Joe or half a burger and some fries from the brew pub around the corner. I drink mostly water (lots of it) and a cup of tea or coffee in the mornings. I don't count calories. That's too much work. I do eat everything that's not vegetable based off of small dishes and I don't do seconds.
For me, it was all easy and relatively painless. At the time I started, I was going through some major life changes anyway, so this was all just a drop in the bucket, really. It provided me something to focus on when things were kind of terrible and the endorphins from working out chased away depression, anxiety, and sadness. Anger just meant I had extra oomph in my punches, kicks, and kettlebell swings, so that was good, too.
I never consulted my doctor on any of it. It would likely have been a good idea to do so. Injuries can set someone back and be really discouraging. Apart from my fracture, I've never hurt myself. Everyday muscle soreness can also turn someone all the way off. Every body is different. Every body is meant to look and behave differently. Find something you enjoy and make time to do it. Focus on the small picture because the big one is really terrifying.
At twilight the stars wink at you
As if to infer they are in on your secret
You part your lips to mount your defense
To tell them they don't know anything
When a marrow deep weariness sets in
And the thought of arguing with celestial bodies
Leaves you standing
in awe of your own shortsightedness
You've fought too much
Wasted countless minutes and hours
Adding up to years on uphill battles
That left you scrabbling for purchase in the dust
Never gaining ground
That these pinpoints of not so fragile light
May merely be echoes
Of things decades dead
About the wasted words
The desiccated husks of hurled insults
The chunks of soul you tore to throw them
Maybe the stars do know your secrets
Blinking them to you in Morse code
Singing them to you in the breeze
And maybe you should listen
They know you better than you think
None of your names have faces and
none of your faces have names.
You are an amorphous shifting thing.
Amoebic and mercurial
through invisible gaps between my fingers.
I cannot get a firm grasp.
To hold you would be to understand you
But you elude and allude
turning in concentric circles as if you were
a frightful piñata.
I don't hold a stick.
I hold an open hand.
Just be bold.
Take hold of us and jump.
Whether there is a net shouldn't matter.
If we sprout wings and soar
or crash to the dust below
we will do it with a whoop.
The air rushing from our lungs
so hurried and sure of itself
possessed of a bravery we can only hope to know.
But that air was borrowed.
Breathed in unaware
its vital parts taken.
It flees from us.
We have been borrowed.
Our vital parts taken.
We fled and
found ourselves here
standing at a precipice together.
Our hands wishing to share their heat
while our minds resist the unnerving
unwitting bond the flesh would form.
When she touches you
Your teeth chatter
Electricity courses through your veins
One finger trails its way up your side
Raising follicles in its wake
When she licks your bottom lip
Grazes it with her teeth
Knees threatening to give way
There are things she will do to you
That will leave you
Whimpering to a god you don't believe exists
Because she knows what's in your head
What you want
How you want it
Despite your never speaking a word
Oh please Jesus
Don't you dare stop
And in that moment
She makes eye contact
The things you've been holding back
Spill out of you
Confessions of childhood sins long forgotten
The fantasies of blood
You've harbored all this time
Never given voice to
Couldn't bear to bring breath
To vibrate over vocal cords
And she swallows them all
The one you didn't want to get close to
The wanton tumbling of syllables from your tongue
The inescapable draw to her side
The craving to make her yours
Shaking in the near pure dark of rural roads
Your bedclothes tossed and sodden
It was just a dream
You say out loud
As you turn your head
And her outline glows next to you
Despite the lack of moonlight
On this cloudy evening
You drip slow confessions
Like the last bit at the bottom of a jar of molasses
My instinct is to lick them as they leave the lip
Before they hit the bowl
Deprive the batter of one drop
But one drop
Leads to another
My chin becomes sticky
In my greed
Lapping up the syrupy flow
Like it will never start again
Can never be replenished
Like this is the last chance to try
Because it is
The last chance
A last ditch effort
To make me want more
Before I smash the bottle
Stomp on the shrapnel
And slam the door behind me
I will not taste this again
Because I know it's been laced
With something that will kill me
But not softly
And I haven't been building immunity
No antidote stocked to save me
And so I cry
For this thing I want
And cannot have