I’ve been thinking..
‘Pretty’ confuses me, my relationship with myself and my body, feeling unworthy, not used to it, was afraid of this (feeling). Accidental poetry
I Don’t Owe You Pretty
(after one of the best book titles I think I’ve ever seen)
Side notes: *there was so much more I planned to say here. Then there came the (completely separate), overnight poem, thinking-it-out, release
So, why couldn’t I be ‘pretty’ before?
Recently I wore a dress that is, to me, a pretty dress, I suppose.
And stylish, in my eyes.
I enjoy outfits, and happy or positive visuals bring me joy.
There are the dopamine-seeking ADHD traits, and I’m quite visual overall.
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Noticing flowers peeking through the cracks of a wall.
My senses love feeling the warmth of the sun, the breeze of the wind and smelling freshly-cut grass.
I really try to absorb and feel these moments.
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Appreciating and adoring, a sunset’s beauty, for example, the little (big) things, make my heart skip inside.
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I’ve always felt ‘different’
Undiagnosed until 40, I’m ADHD and not following what other people wear, just because, is something I really respect.
There have been times, I’m sure, when I’ve wanted to conform (lots) but I also love feeling like me.
I enjoy, and get excited by, pattern and colours. (Depending on my mood and how cosy I want to feel).
I put things together, instinctively and I don’t hang about trying things on.
I know what I want to wear - feel it and I’m not sure it matters to me much what others think.
Although, maybe, it does and I’m kidding myself!
Do I always dress, suitably?! NO!
I’m not always the best at wearing the most ‘appropriate’ thing. The waterproof material in the rain.
I try.
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There’s a dopamine lift.
I like connecting to something in my soul. A sugar rush, almost.
But, I can feel awkward if I am being complimented, particularly in relation to ‘prettiness’. Maybe that’a a weird concept to me.
Or maybe I don’t know how that’s judged.
It’s confusing.
I feel I want to crawl into myself, if I think about anything like that, afterwards.
What does it, even, mean?
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I received attention. I felt undeserving, or awkward. Or both.
I wear a dress in an evening and people are kind, saying that it looks lovely.
Sometimes that may be ‘just’ what people say. Maybe they hope to build my confidence, because I’m not a person that’s always sure of myself.
Have definitely gone through phases of being scared to put my body ‘out there.’
I’ve worn baggy clothes
Maybe, I, normally, look so absolutely dreadful, that a lovely dress is a shock!
But, a colour that suits me, or feels nice and that I can’t explain, is great.
The overanalysing or feeling uneasy about compliments might be related to my past.
‘That outfit is so well put together and suits you’, I love.
‘That colour is great on you’, I love.
You look pretty is lovely, but there is an element of uncertainty and not knowing what to say.
I say thank you.
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At the time, I feel flattered and shocked by the whole thing but, in the days after, I reflect.
There’s a part of me, internally, thinking:
‘Can’t I be pretty with no make-up, at all, on?’
(Rather than the minimal make-up, I will feel is heavy, when I bother to apply it and with a t-shirt on, going to bed).
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*I’m not saying that I don’t look messy, or have hair everywhere. That some sort of jagged-ish high, sticking out, bun isn’t all over the shop.
But, why can’t it all be about who I am on the inside?
Shining through, on the outside.
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I enjoy putting a dress on that I feel nice in, but I don’t want to conform to these social norms in order to finally be regarded as ‘worthy’. Or acceptable.
(Does that sound awful? Perhaps, it does).
I think when someone knows who they are, it shows. When they are authentically, them.
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It’s just a dress.
And I get joy from it.
Are these thoughts, even, opposing?
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It feels nice.
Can I enjoy that? This time, I really did.
But, I was who I am before I put in on and am, who I am, afterwards.
It’s a complicated tightrope I’m uneasy with.
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Visuals connect with me as an ADHD human and bright, vivid clothes, or being in something I feel comfortable in, whilst feeling warmth (and a breeze) on my arms, is the goal.
Nothing pulling, tugging, being too tight (for me), pressing hard, or making me feel more ‘exposed’ (Or feeling more ‘out there’ than I want to be in that moment).
Clashing outfits, I like. Not feeling I’ve conformed to what someone else is expecting, for the sake of ‘fitting in’.
Wearing things that I feel like ‘Me’.
Sewing flowers from Etsy on the back of a denim jacket, or putting on something I’ve had for years, is fantastic. An outfit that’s popular with my soul, in an ongoing way.
There are things from the 90s (style-wise) for example, that I’ve often loved wearing. And probably always would. The elements of outfits I’ve worn at 15 and 25 and 35.
(That’s also in fashion, of course, the 90s vibes).
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I feel different, or other, in so many ways.
Feel so many statements that sound contradictory.
If an outfit gives me a little, below the surface, boost, or feels summery..
If I’m happy with how I present and if I’m comfortable sitting in, and walking around in, an outfit - fantastic.
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I also like to feel that what I’m wearing is not that much of an important thing.
Being a woman.
Being human, can feel hard.
There are all these misogynistic messages we are sent.
I put on a dress and get ‘attention’,
then, feeling unworthy.
Don’t appear too confident.
Don’t be too much.
Shut it down.
Much of the attention came from women.
Complimenting the dress, or my hair.
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I have fun. Am happy.
It feels like an exhale.
But, we have to minimise, or not feel worthy of anything that is said.
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I question, did I genuinely wear it for me?
I don’t owe you s t, confusion about my place in the world, not wanting to present myself in a sexual manner, trauma and fear
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ADHD beats - Poetry
Image credits: Canva
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My ADHD poem-ing For the vibe. The relief
Brain whizz, fizz, dilute and hiss The background music has the beats My adhd brain continue to explode From fireworks, to sparks from a plug I need soothing Soldering, to never And, forever, peace Something mellow Stimulation For relief The places my brain will roam Warming, homely, A comfort In softness Like peat I speak You are bewildered As…
Feeling misunderstood..
‘wrong’
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From a different angle..
tarastarpoetry.com
Loved this and imagined it to be about men’s mental health and supporting each other
*Essay that rhymes and works it out And dreams Through it - never, completely Gets it Papering away the paper cuts Opening up Tearing confusion and wondering if it’s red, through Or purple, that hopes, at the seams (one night, early morning, I went on a bit! Clutching for air Reaching for peace) .. Sometimes we just all need a little bubble wrap and popping releasing, safely and holding You know Inhaling straws So that pieces can get stuck in our throats Hydrating, but uncomfortably, so We dream and we crave Pretending to go with the flow A steady stream, like oxygen Entering the lungs Filling and, then, let go Sometimes we crave care and kindness so much That we blow bubbles and tie ourselves into circles Like trying a cigarette as a younger person in the 90s (Don’t do it) Not inhaling Then forcing Coughing, with each toke Trying to experiment with what is gross We needed air But, looking for codes .. and smoke signals Love in toxicity Burns on a palm When, hoping, For a hand to hold Someone to take our hearts and hold, gently As if precious (we are, it is) When we need and we don’t know With whom to reach Don’t want to be controlled Put it out there And, hope I remember saying Could you stay until I fall asleep? You (I) choke I shamed my own searching for warmth from a dragon, burning skin Flames, thrown This is a circus I’m looking, never for you (I kid myself) But for, a sort of, momentary, home Needing parts of me filled In a place where my seeking Me offering up.. You mock my ‘desperation’ and the tone I see this kindly Holding out hands from parts of me that could barely, even, hope Those seconds Wishing, in dungeons And, I, almost never wanted you to reach me Needed ‘something’ Not filling my chest with rocks The adult in me Needing a moat A drawbridge Choice and the core of me leading, the ways I float I am home They are an extra I’m my peace I can (feel I can’t) do this (In poetic notes) Learning to cope Someone to revel in the sunset with Screeching joy of the child inside When I searched for a release The alveoli inflate like flowers There is beauty in safe sleep Reflected, from my insides You see the ugly, raw and know the beautiful Pain in the eyes That flashes, wounded, when I don’t bleed I don’t have to create layers in the charade and facade No need to hide Wailing cries Ache out all the times I tried Really. Really, tried I hurt You see, and understand, gentle, naturally and talk Heart doing cartwheels Not numb, dizzy-afterwards, circles Life is there for the present And I am deserving of my shine Not others, weighing and judging straw-state To see what you can lay claim to In corruption You can’t lie to get inside (It wasn’t my fault It was never my fault I can thrive) Your manipulation Never tender It’s faking For, all you can seize And now, we rise It wasn’t my fault It was never your (our) fault There were tricks of the trade The big, in the little now (glimmers) I am, the me, that’s inside Seen and used We wanted reusable straws, stable And got regular paper For writing on You took all you could Not everything You, of little heart Cold crucifies What was left for me Trying, to fill me up Paper fell apart became mulch To pull apart, years later I wish I started to do that earlier Not shamed, the paper cuts, for years that were inside (I wanted love) What patterns, of course, could that teach? There are phrases about licking knives Tender is the hope Maybe, felt But, not what they teach Sorry is the place Although, there’s no forced repair And life is not closing your eyes Once giving, believing you have to Not seeing, is not hurting you But what you did Was what corruption created Touch release Like a stove Holding on, too tight Then, tightly, deeming giving as an exhale Believing your value is in the giving It’s tight, that you close the eyes Underneath your eyelids there were dreams And that, daily, weaves What were you shown? Within it, to magic spirals You say hello - and goodbyes Who in your heart’s home? That’s your home in perpetuity Your soul Your, serendipitous, you-ness Kept you All the times you tried With that main character energy You become your lead And you don’t need to be out there Or you do, As toddler me squeals, laughs in joy And cries They took it - no afterthought They take and receive Chase oxygen like it’s sweet sugar Sucking it all, like parasites Some don’t have the deeper levels They see what they want It’s only their time There’s a home That never appeased There is hurt there But some never notice there are others Their needs Such sorrow They are cruel And don’t see the hearts that nod but, later, cry You reserve your place, daily At the top of the rock Watching the sunrise At the front with your camera Romanticising internally In your own, perfect glimmer of paradise This is one experience, living You in your moment In time (You’re worthy - Some make themselves the leaders They are cold, you are ‘hot’ and, they, Most relevant of the lot) You all deserve divine. Stepping away From the rush hour I find it hard to understand When people only see their lives physically Take all the pieces at, sandwich-sharing, time I live an exquisite life Write words to help eradicate the overwhelm Some of the most spectacular in my mind I take them off the paper now Live with love Because of all the thousands wanting to photograph the view Maybe they only see them They can’t take from others The connection that we have Though, they’d try Would you like bacon with my body as bread? And is it my fault you think you’re owed that I shame me Poem out The exhale and, untangling When there’s time They block all the other cameras I untie my intestines My anger Try to understand and untwist the branches of my lungs That you convince me were already untied Do you know your worth, within? There is selfish I wonder about all of it Every.. sometimes A kind society But, they think they are the only ones I talk to myself when I became self-obsessed in ego And try to separate it from Eve being told she was wrong to eat the apple Was it really her? All tangled up in someone else’s vines When we all need a turn At the photo They stand before your lens Their spot, only When you enjoy one, solitary moment What happened To allow that one person to take all the places - and times Perhaps, we keep memories Not for show When fingers cover the lens cap For them, it isn’t that deep I’m intrigued And wonder if I’m one of them? Wording it and spilling it Keeps me from, and helps me, sleep The exhales too long for poems But, I should be the one person that cares about coughing up my alveoli We all need to breathe Empty with anticipation No one heard my soul speak Shoe laces untied Running towards the peak I need one who doesn’t see their sunrise in my moment But holds my hand and celebrates my dreams Respecting boundaries Being on our team Calmly knotting each others laces It becomes about so many things Knowing what I, we, might need Offering it, kindly Asking for it, with intrigue Let me get the chest pressure out Apologising for mis-speaks Oh, to see this pattern And know, for what, and why, to teach Deep care and evolution Human, in joy and sadness Holding and acceptance When it’s too powerful to speak Baby me, holding out clenching fingers Needing to reach The tender strokes In all that peace We are all adult children running around Self-soothing In regulating You will know the ages, to which you speak So, me too Bored of my own existential crisis It’s not that It’s questioning where is the human? sometimes And needing my soul and fingers to pace it out Let’s get on it I need You do We all need Cos I layered up empty and now you see the raw and real is what you want Not polished and pretty I love my unique We are beautiful Our inner, and human, team The straws take in tea Succulent, cold Handling the bubbles and cutting the cords You have to smile sometimes with other people Unaware of their own unawareness Maybe we all have our own mazes Here, my truth speaks Cutting the codes that forbade us Seized, it all I magnify And we can, always, dream You can do all that you love And, in those moments of frustration and confusion Life is worth, and about, more than it seems
Closing eyes to pain, self-harm
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Being present, hope, trauma, needing is allowed, misogyny, gaslighting
(*I thought this would be a very different post. Didn’t write it when I planned to.
It became an amalgamation of lots of, and abstract, things
Not about any one, or real, person)
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Thinking.. I don’t like the term ‘disorder’
Forgetting the ‘Deficit’ bit, (which I don’t particularly love (either), I’m not a fan of the word ‘Disorder’.
