Fat Woman Walking


Fat Woman Walking
 
my spirit pained and fractured
during a childhood
raised by broken parents
I learnt to walk on
 
my right foot
a roughened red rock
formed in the suicide of my son
with a cane I managed to walk on
 
embedded in my left foot
a salt worn sand encrusted stone
that pierced me
as my husband collapsed and died in my arms
 
my lungs labour with disease
life choices – loss
and the armour of obesity
I struggle to walk on
 
it’s the obesity people see
focus on
try to fix
‘she wouldn’t suffer if she wasn’t so fat’
 
the first 15 kilos crept quietly by
as I tried to fight the spiral
of my only child’s depression
drug addiction and suicide attempts
 
the next 30 came after his death
a combination of eating and anti-depressants
immobilized by pills
and the pain of loss
 
after the death of my husband
I refused the pills
couldn’t stomach the food
I tried to walk on
 
I stumble
they want to zap my brain
I struggle to breathe
they want to staple my stomach
 
I wonder what they would do
if I was thin
 
Tricia    2011
 

About triciabertram

I have written all my life. Writing helps me to make sense of a world I often don’t understand. Poetry is my supreme solace, closely followed by literature and music. When my son ended his life in 1999 I embarked on the most difficult journey of my life, my grief journey. To survive in this unknown, harsh landscape I had to write. It was for me, the only way I could even begin to move forward. Then in 2009 my darling husband died suddenly and so my journey continues. I write about other issues but because of my life experience, grief and death are continuing themes in my writing life. In our culture I believe there is a fear of death, an inability to accept the inevitability of our mortality, and this creates enormous difficulties for the bereaved and those around them. I have begun this blog in the hope I will create a small ripple in the pond of fear that is currently drowning the reality of death and grief. I will continue to skim the stones of my truth, watch them bounce, and see how many ripples I can make.

Posted on December 21, 2011, in I am what I am, Poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.

  1. You have suffered more than most. Far more than you deserve. I hope these words aid in your healing.

  2. It was a very therapeutic exercise for me joe. What was even more therapeutic was sending it to my lung specialist who had pi**ed me off.

  3. I commented previously but WordPress seems to have eaten it! Perhaps it thought it was spam because of my simple superlative: Absolutely brilliant!

  4. I’m not sure I have the right words to comment on this as it touched me so deeply. These words are so poignant and so deep and so very distressing. It’s interesting how when you have a weight problem, people fixate on that rather than trying to heal the hurt it is hiding. It’s just the same with underweight too. At my thinnest, all people could focus on was feeding me up oblivious to the fact that if they could help me learn to cope with day to day life using other means then the weight would sort itself out (which is what happened when I met Tom. He fixed me).

    • Pooky, the young woman who took the beautiful photos (i won’t mention her name here) has suffered off and on for years with underweight issues. She’s much better now but very prone to it when under stress. It’s the underlying issues that are the problem. Overweight/underweight different sides of the one coin.
      I’m so pleased you have Tom in your life. Not everyone has a wonderful husband. Those of us who do are very lucky.

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