April PAD Challenge + NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 17

 

Image by Shafin Al Asad Protic from Pixabay

Hello, Poetry People. Today, I went for brevity and wrote a Haiku for my April PAD Challenge/NaPoWriMo poem.

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2024-april-pad-challenge-day-17

The April PAD Challenge prompt asked participants to write a Not Blank poem. I gave my Haiku the title Not In the Mainstream.

https://www.napowrimo.net/day-seventeen-10/

The NaPoWriMo prompt suggests that participants create a poem inspired by a piece of music. For my own part, I chose a timeless classic: the music of nature in the form of the sound of falling rain. 

It's not mainstream pop, to be sure. The unspoken portion of the poem is the fact that it's being written by someone who will never be in the mainstream.

I've learned something about myself that doesn't surprise me in the least. In fact, it explains a lot about my hypersensitivity and how frazzled I feel when my routine is disrupted. It also reinforces my anger and sadness over the way I've been treated like I'm a bad person and/or weak for something that's part of my neurological makeup. I will spend the rest of my life trying to learn not to hate myself and to try and get along in a world that hates people like me. 

Nobody is going to try to understand people like me. I'm used to that. It would be nice, however, if medical professionals were taught to treat all their patients with common decency rather than disdain, even the "difficult" ones. 

I'm not trying to be difficult. It's not like I intentionally decided to have this shit show of a body. Who the hell would choose that? The truth is, I'm fucking terrified of you. I don't want to be here. I can smell the disdain coming off you. You don't try to hide it at all. 

To condense all that, the unspoken message in the Haiku is this:

Working through this shit show of a body and this weirdly wired brain is a soul who loves the sound of rain, just wishes everyone could be happy and live peacefully, and will never be part of the mainstream in any way. I don't want pills, injections, and surgery to force my disobedient body to look like what you have deemed it should look like. (I swear to whatever gods there may be if I type "whould" one more time, I'm gonna cut off my fingers!) 

I don't want pills or shock therapy or surgery to rearrange my brain till I fit into your definition of sane. 

I don't want injections or surgeries or other expensive treatments in a desperate attempt to make myself look younger or closer to what you deem attractive. 

It shouldn't matter if I don't conform to your idea of what the perfect woman looks like or acts like. You should treat me with respect and kindness all the same. You have no idea what I've been through or what it's like to be me.

I'll probably go back to being stoic tomorrow. Today, I felt like this needed to be said. I'm sure all five or six people who read this blog really give a shit anyway.

This was the first day in many months that I woke up without feeling like I was on the verge of a panic attack. Learning what I did recently makes certain things finally make sense.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by c from Pixabay

https://odysee.com/@sayitright77:e/rain-sounds-for-sleeping-13:9?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16

I could literally listen to this sort of thing all day.

Carpe Diem #1774 Renga With Jane Reichhold ... apples for lunch

Image Source

dad on high

dropping from his trees

apples for lunch

I walk to the chicken coop

to visit my friends the hens

southern sunset

filling the apple bin

a deeper red

thinking of a time gone by

when the sky was beautiful

applesauce

the cinnamon glow

of a kerosene lamp

we didn't need to have one

my mother liked how it looked

windfall apples

palaces for worms

American pie

I started getting to know

worms eating into my brain

straight falling rain

tiny lakes upon the tree

stem hollows of apples

I have always loved the rain

but it's the snowy season

baskets in a row

overflowing with apples

on one a sweater

was it my mother's or mine?

Dad goes on picking apples

~Jane & Cie~

Notes:

The Hokku stanzas of these Tan Renga were created by Jane Reichhold (1937 - 2016). The Ageku were created by me.

When I was writing my Ageku, I was remembering my childhood in New Mexico between the ages of four and ten.

It wasn't idyllic by any means. We were very poor. But we did have a half-acre of land, and we had chickens and fruit trees and we grew corn and beans.

We also ate a lot of stuff like boiled soybeans and buckwheat groats. I still like buckwheat groats. You could put a bit of butter and honey on them and they tasted good. However, to this day, I loathe boiled soybeans. I would eat my shoe before I would ever eat another boiled soybean.

I knew I was weird and different from a very young age. These days doctors would probably put me on Ritalin and antidepressants. One did try to put me on phenobarbitol when I was a year and a half old because I didn't sleep for crap. My mother said it had the opposite effect and I was awake for three days straight. 

It probably put me into a manic state. It may even have been what triggered the onset of my bipolar disorder. Any doctor who would instruct a parent to give phenobarbitol to a child needs a damn good whacking, and nothing will change my mind about that.

NaHaiWriMo 2018 #8: Monkeying Around + The Fight Against Perfectionism

Notes:

Click the image to enlarge.

"So then I artistically blurred my photo to give a sense of moving back through time."

Nah. I moved my hand while the photo was being taken.

"But why would you want to use a photo like that? Any photographer worth their salt would delete it forthwith!"

I don't really consider myself a photographer. I'm a person who takes pictures because I enjoy it. 

This blurry photo isn't without its merits. It inspired me to create this Haiga of questionable quality.

Nobody is ever going to consider this to be a high-fallutin' work of art to rival the classics. But it is fun, and it illustrates the idea that you can make your mistakes work for you.

I have been battling perfectionism all my life. Embracing my mistakes is helpful for me. Perfectionism is an extremely destructive quality. I would like to share the ways in which it has harmed me from various perspectives.
In this post, I would like to share how physical perfectionism has caused untold harm to me and many others. Some of what I share involves my own perfectionism, and some of it involves the unrealistic standards which society imposes upon people.

On a physical level, we live in a society which demands that Number Twelve Looks Just Like You. We are supposed to aspire to a certain standard of beauty and fitness, and, if we fail to achieve such, we are deemed failures not worthy of even basic decency in the way we are treated by others.
However, rather than inspiring everyone to become super duper supermen and women, this attitude has a tendency to backfire. You end up with people who do not trust doctors because doctors continually shame them for their physical appearance or failure to be compliant with regimens that it may be impossible or intolerable for them.
So, instead of engaging in a program of regular visits to the doctor for preventative care and maintenance of chronic health issues, people avoid going to the doctor until they experience a critical problem. This helps no-one.
When my current doctor addressed my slightly elevated triglycerides (a common issue for diabetics) with "have you been indulging in treats?" I snapped. I said "I make twelve thousand dollars a year and generally eat only one or two meals a day. I eat what I can afford to purchase. I do not 'indulge.'"
In spite of the fact that this doctor is by far the most effective doctor that I have ever seen, I am considering going back to the guy who was burned out and had no fucks to give, because my current doctor has given me ample reason to mistrust her. The 'indulging in treats' bit is mere sprinkles on the body-shaming cake.
This doctor presented herself as offering a 'safe space' for larger people, and, during my first visit, appeared to live up to her promise. Thereafter, she suggested weight loss surgery and blamed my abnormal endometrial thickening on "obesity."
If you want your larger patients to believe for a second that you have any respect for them, you need to ditch the "o" word. "Obesity" is "other." "Obesity" is a pariah. "Obesity" is shit. "Obesity" is always said with a sanctimonious sneer. If you use that word, I do not trust you.
Abnormal endometrial thickening is correlated with a larger body type, but correlation is not causation. It is also correlated with being over fifty (guess I need to step into an age-regression machine), white (guess I'd better start tanning), and diabetic.
A larger body type is also correlated with type 2 diabetes. Again, correlation is not causation. I am inclined to think that abnormal pancreatic function is a strong contributing factor in both the tendency to gain weight and the endometrial hyperplasia. There may be a third factor which causes all of my endocrine issues. A heavy body type is correlated with endocrine issues, but it did not cause these issues. In fact, the reverse is true. None of my endocrine system works properly. It would be highly unlikely for me to have a thin body unless I were to become deathly ill, regardless of how little I eat or how much I exercise.
So, having a bench in your waiting room rather than just chairs with arms does not constitute offering a "safe space" for people of all sizes. I don't trust you, and that makes for an ineffective doctor/patient relationship, regardless of your ability to diagnose and possibly treat health problems.
People are not inclined to take care of things they hate, and that includes their bodies. While cleaning out my storage unit, I found numerous artifacts from the many years I spent trying to hate myself thin. Looking over the awful things I wrote about myself, thinking about all the money I spent playing a game that almost nobody wins, realizing that I caused wear and tear to my body equivalent to the harm done to it by the many years I spent working long hours at physically punishing jobs, thinking back on the times when I was sometimes spending five hours at the gym when I should have been spending that time with my son, I became extremely depressed.
To top it all off, none of this shit brought me to the goal of Magical Thinness, which would have won me the Handsome Prince with the Exactly Correct Body Fat Percentage, a billion dollars for every pound I lost during my incredibly successful "weight loss journey," fame and adoration of the masses, or anything but a far thinner wallet and a soul filled with self-loathing.
Thinspo is crap. Fitspo is crap. Dieting is crap. It's all harmful. None of it will bring you happiness, and it won't even bring you health. It will bring you self-loathing and turn you into an awful person that nobody likes.

Dieting is not about health. It is about perfectionism. The pressure to be perfect is purely for profit. Stop paying into a system that doesn't give a damn about you and thrives on your failure.

"In the long term, dieting is a spectacular waste of time for everyone except statistical unicorns." --Louise Adams

~Cie~