You wish to be small
Slight and petite
Not round like a ball
Atop two chubby feet

You want to fit in
With those in your school
To be popular, thin
Not solely uncool

Why can’t you be skinny
Like others your grade
Dress in skirts mini-
Not big and homemade

But hold it, I say
To big little you
Soon comes the day
Adolescence is through

At age twenty-nine
With determination and grit
I promise you’re fine
Keep at it, don’t quit

Realizing long last
Being strong is what’s best
Leaving diets in the past
You pass the qualifying test

Now, a personal trainer
Group fitness leader
Sometimes entertainer
Always positivity feeder

The joy you’ll discover
In this health career choice
Will help your recover
And find your own voice

So, please don’t you fear
Dear big, little you
Your future is near
Your dream will come true

I find my peace in pieces
A little here and there
Chaos never ceases
Peace is often rare

But,
I feel it in raindrops
Dry, falling leaves
Carefree belly flops
A humorous sneeze

In,
Pine needle covered trails
A brilliant sunrise
Stylish manicured nails
Crisp sweet potato fries

At,
Book clubs with friends
Pride parades in June
Multicolored pens
Naps in the afternoon

I find my peace in pieces
Wherever there is spare
Gather then release it
Peace is meant to share

My father sat on the sofa with his elbows resting on his spread knees, and he couldn’t keep his gaze locked on mine. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the room as he forced his throat to expel the truth. I already knew what was wrong, but hearing him confess straight to my face stopped my growing denial. The reality of it all sunk in like a hot brand on my chest, searing my skin. I stared at him as my eyes slowly glazed over. My nails picked so desperately at my fingers, hoping to dull the intense misery that now consumed my head. 
The excitement I once had for a steady future started slowly draining from beneath me; all I could do was watch helplessly. Reality hit me like a freight train after August. My house was beginning to resemble the house of a hoarder due to a water leak that took months to fix and my father’s inability to close his wallet when he was greeted with a good deal. My dignity gradually dwindled every time someone stepped foot inside the house as our dirty secret was disclosed. The situation was becoming too relatable, like a sick and twisted metaphor for the inside of my mind. Cluttered with reality, shoving it away, desperately, trying to make each box fit while I covered it up from the outside with sophisticated red bricking and dainty flower hedges. 
Pretty pastel dresses and a caked face adorned with a cheery smile were enough to maintain my bubbly facade. However, there was only so much I could do to ease the aching of my soul. My unconventional methods worked, but I could gradually feel myself falling apart as the cardboard boxes that held my sorrows became soiled with the tears I shed in secret. 
A long, dreadful day ended with my front door slammed shut, leaving my facade standing on the other side. Heavy feet dragged along the floor when one abruptly slammed into another piece of reality resting by the doorway. The sight of it alone made my heart constrict as rage swelled behind my eyes, spilling over in hot tears that rolled down my cheeks. Begrudgingly, I picked up the box, struggling to force my knees to straighten. The bottom of the dingy box finally gave out, scattering its contents across the floor before me. The irony was so great I almost found the humor in it. Rage exploded into utter desperation as my breath hitched. I stood there for an eternity holding that useless box, staring blankly in front of me. At the same time, the hopelessness grew heavier, weighing my heart down like an anchor. I allowed it to take me down, and my knees made contact with the cold laminate floor. I numbly picked up every piece of my fragmented reality, forced to acknowledge everything I had been trying to deny. So many factors were woven together, and with their frayed ends, it was impossible to see how anything would transpire. Every plan I made collapsed as quickly as that pathetic cardboard box. A renewed vigor filled my veins, eradicating the sorrow as I carelessly shoved everything inside a new box. 
I picked up that new pristine cardboard box containing the same old problems. I rushed towards my bedroom and flung open the door, chucking the box to the ground with absolute disdain. It crashed to the floor with a loud thud as all the contents inside rattled together. I wished so hard that the box would engulf in flames that I started to see it. I watched as the tan cardboard turned bright red and crumpled in on itself, desperate to escape from the fire that clung to its skin as it charred. I lowered myself to the floor and sat in front of the blistering heat. I felt the warmth of the flames gently kissing my face as I watched my anguish be carried away with every ember that rose to the ceiling. An eerie, soothing calm washed over my body as a shaky breath left my lungs.
I stared at the pile of ash, finding solace in how everything had been reduced to nothing. The tarnished silver lining was finally revealed to me, and I eventually stood up. Everything that had ever plagued my mind had disintegrated before me, leaving an empty feeling as all my troubles had disappeared in seconds. The only thing left were pre-written pages to look back on to be read repeatedly, always ending eventually. Within a blink, the fire was gone, and my daydream ended, and I was back to staring at that cursed box, but I couldn’t help but love that this chapter would someday eventually end. 

What do I love about this part of my life?
I wonder aloud to myself.
I seem to get caught up in the riptide of the ever quickening current of life and sometimes forget that when I ride the waves rather than resisting, I end up exerting much less extra energy and receiving much more than when my attention is caught up, too.
I do love that I can put this sensation into words, something that creates something from what was once abstract.
I love that I can pause and take just 3 breaths, and remember the gift that alone is.
I love that in this moment in my life, I am able to meet the triggers and challenges I face like an old friend who is just in need of a parcel of love, not to be turned away with vengeance.
I love that I am choosing me, no matter what, in a selfishly selfless way.
Who can pour from what’s empty?
I love that I am discovering what confidence means to me, and also for my ability to give grace, especially to myself, when that confidence I discover falters, even just momentarily.
I love that I can remind myself of all the reasons I have to be confident, and for all the gratitude that I feel for the awareness I’ve cultivated of this, as this practice has at times felt as unnatural as I imagine eating soup on the moon would feel.
I love that I am meeting myself deeper and with more love than I’ve known from myself ever, and for that I rejoice as I know it will be multiplied outwards.
I love that trying new things lights me up with excitement instead of cowering in fear.
I love that I use strength with my voice, no longer one to be bulldozed with others’ words.
I love that my once thorny boundaries have turned to beautiful vines, soft yet strong, ever enduring with elegance and ease.
I love that this chapter of my life has brought me a love of life – once a place that was a barren landscape of nothingness – now a fertile garden bursting with new life and the potential of growth beyond all imagination.

You told me not to leave
More times than I could count
Confused young kids
Having kids
Not knowing what was what

Well one day I finally remembered
I’m worth
All the love and more
And that endless love
It starts within
And flows forevermore

The journey has not been easy
Rocky from the start
But I’ve grown stronger and wiser
And all these lessons fill my heart

I’ve had poison aimed straight to my soul
From your words and energy
But despite your lies and anger
I never will grow cold

Because if this darkness that I must face most days
The light I have within my soul
Re-illuminates me always.

I pulled on a pair of runners, tied up the laces tight
Lined up behind the racers, hoping to keep out of sight
Two minutes in, I struggled for breath, fearing I would meet my death
I pushed forward despite my pain, dodging blowing northwest rain
With every puddle I side-stepped, I grew stronger, more confident
For the moment I was simply me, not a husband’s wife nor a babe’s mommy
My body moved freely in open space, unconfined by time or place
And with that first race, on that day one, I found I absolutely love to run
This revelation did change the way I lived my life both then and today

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be