On Memories

FB just reminded me that this time last year I was still reeling from the shock of coming home to find my housemate packing; of taking loans to replace appliances and make rent, all the while interrogating myself with unanswerable whys and hows. All you can be is yourself and because I was transparent and authentic in that relationship, I regret nothing which is not to say I feel nothing. FB reminded me that I’m a survivor (cue Destiny’s Child); that though they may knock me down I will always, eventually, get up again (cue Chumbawamba). That experience taught me compassion and affirmed my understanding of grace (cue Kim Walker and Canyon City), but it almost broke me, almost broke what little trust I have in female friendship…but it didn’t. I stood, I withstood, I learned.

Here’s what I wrote this time last year.

Still here. Still standing.

I’m still here.
I’m still standing. 
Still, sometimes, even dancing. 
I’ve learnt to love myself, 
Every little bit of myself -
-From my tightly-coiled but grabbable hair,
To my pretty toes, and my difficulties with prayer.
-From the fat that won’t relocate to the boobs, 
To the ass and the body image issues. 
 -From my mania and the tears and the tiny hurts,
To my love of laughter and my relationship with words -
I love all of me -
And I’m learning to love what brought me here.

I'm still here. Still standing. 
Still, sometimes, even dancing.

-Beauty's Daughter