I Did OK Today

Today,

I walked down a busy city sidewalk

And noticed a bird on a bench.

It didn’t fly away like birds always do when I get close enough.

It stayed planted,

a little yellow stripe at the end of its tail.

I sat down next to it.

It yawned its mouth and let out a series of cheeps that explained everything.

Sometimes, we stay when we should flee because we’re so young that we don’t yet have the skills we need to save ourselves.

(Yet.)

I sat with it, and it turned its small face up to me.

I paused and considered us, two curious animals together on a city bench.

I worried for the future of my companion.

After a liminal time, I looked up to see the bird’s caretaker, staying close, a little yellow stripe at the end of its tail.

I thought of my mother, witnessing my suffering and standing by.

My small child’s heart wanted to nest my hands around that ruffled, searching nugget and run with it to a place of respite.

But my wise mind smiled at me, took my own hand, and led me down the street.

There was no motherly betrayal there on that bench once I gave my weight to my feet and walked away.

I’m 35 and so far I’ve been:

A teen McDonald’s fry cook

An unchallenged retail associate

An overwhelmed undergraduate music major (no privilege here, up to my eyeballs in loan debt)

A screen printer

An extremely overwhelmed graduate music major (more loans!)

A flute teacher

A server

A bartender

A beer educator

A suddenly sober human

A barista

A cafe general manager

And I just restarted again as an artisan baker.

The poem begins:

There’s a generation of birds outside my door

Who have only known abundance,

A world where nourishment fills every corner.

Young birds take test flights.

Rain whispers through reaching branches.

Two hopeful waste management pros trying valiantly to crush a couch with a garbage compactor truck (*crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchCRUNCHCRUNCH*)

leads to liminal space

Today,

may I meet my needs so fully and lavishly

that any request for help that comes my way

feels completely within my capability and resources.

Especially

I spent so long starved of community care while working in a position of caring for others that I convinced myself I didn’t need that care myself in the first place. It was something reserved for others. I wondered why I was angry all the time, especially at people who seemed to be having a good time and meeting their needs.

I’m having to take the same one-day-at-a-time approach that I used back in early sobriety here. I’m continually bringing myself back to the idea that meeting my needs isn’t selfish, it’s the thing that makes any good works I might do possible in the first place. An exhausted, stressed out, starving woman is not the person to go to in times of trouble. If I want to be the hero, I have to fuel my body and spirit like a hero deserves.

I have to reach beyond myself to meet my needs. I have to admit vulnerability to the person who can see better than me to trim the back of my hair. I have to admit exhaustion to the person who would cook me dinner because I’m too tired to make something. I have to admit need and lack of knowledge to the person who would love to sell me something from their cool specialty store.

Choosing to fill every second of my day with things that bring me closer to balance.

I will look back on my life and see a person who was intentional if nothing else.

I can be as strong and flexible as I decide I’m willing to be, because I can work toward becoming more skilled in both of those areas if I so choose.

The kinder I am to myself, the safer others feel around me. Kindness to myself doesn’t take anything away from those around me. It’s not selfish, it’s lovely and magical.

My clothing works for me and my agenda. If I can’t move and stretch and eat full meals and breathe in deeply in the outfit I’m wearing, that outfit has to go. If I can’t drop to the floor and do some yoga in it, it’s gone. No negotiations.

Most people don’t need an immediate answer, they just want one. I can take time and think things through in most situations. There’s no need to rush decisions. I can wait and listen for what my mind and my gut can agree upon.

I’m alive today

In a sound body

Moving this way and that

Doing all sorts of things

Life in my 30s:

Starting all over again.

It’s time to slow down now.

It’s time to stretch.

Time to hydrate and nourish as needed.

Put up those tootsies.

Hug a cat.