I feel the hunger begin to ache
yet a bite– I cannot take.
I feel my skull is caving in
a hollow space– my thoughts are thin.
I feel my eyes are bulging out
sockets dry– no moisture in doubt
The hunger takes my breath away
my appetite– it has gone astray.
My longing lies within the emptiness
the echoes– they draw the voice of anxiousness.
I bend to the pain and hold it close
feeling– it’s something I miss most.
There is no solace, no comfort in hunger
this pain– it won’t make me any stronger.
Yet here I sit and endure it all
my hope– one day I won’t fear the fall.
I’ll take the plunge, I’ll take that bite
the hunger will fade with the return of Appetite.
This poem is a mix of two struggles I have in my daily life. I have never been diagnosed with an eating disorder but I have issues with food. I love food but getting me to eat can be difficult. I have little to no appetite. I am very familiar with the painful feeling of hunger and yet it’s a struggle to find the desire to eat. I have body issues but not what is considered “normal.” I feel very skinny most of the time; the kind of skinny that is unattractive (even though my two boys gave me the gift of love handles and a mini muffin top). I want to want to eat (if that makes any sense) but [*shrugs*] the thought of eating kind of turns my stomach most times. The other struggle I have is writing. I have this craving to write every day; I’m hungry for it when I don’t have the time to write, blog, or brainstorm. But, when I have the time, the space and the quiet atmosphere, I lose my appetite.
I think both of these struggles come from fear of failure. I have stories in my head that I love but will anyone else? I doubt it. I feel like they are pointless to get out of my head because I am the only one that will ever enjoy them. It’s the same with blogging; who will take the time to read anything I have to vent about or share? Not a lot of people and yet here I am, every day, trying to write something (on any platform, in any form) because I have to quiet the hunger or I will starve myself to death; or drive myself crazy. I can certainly connect the physical pain of one struggle to the mental and emotional strain of the other.
One day I won’t be afraid of whatever it is keeping me from eating (gluttony, over indulgence?) and I’ll welcome my appetite back. One day I won’t have to use poetry to relieve the stress of my struggles with words meeting my thoughts and emotions and I’ll share my stories with everyone.