I was 15 when I stopped eating.
No, there was no major childhood trauma, no deaths, divorce, sexual abuse, nothing.
I used to wish there had been. Something to justify this perversity so that I could blame it all on PTSD
Then I felt guilty and ashamed for even thinking those thoughts
I tried making myself smaller, take up less space.
But the monster in my belly swelled
It growled for me to feed it.
But if I ate, my monster strengthened itself
On my disgust when I looked in the mirror
Every roll of fat hissed at me
“This is why no one loves you”
I started to feed it feelings and tears and secrets
So I didn’t have to feel the emptiness
You know when you’re running on empty
It’s easier to call it hunger
Easier to call it by any other name than loneliness
More concrete than my existence
I started to wander away, look for a new home.
I couldn’t inhabit this body anymore
One Spring, little hairs started sprouting all over my body
I pretended I was a baby bird with a new downy coat protecting me.
Outside, the new leaves grew with a radical joy that I had forgotten
Once the body burns all the fat, it starts to eat muscle
The heart is the strongest muscle in the body
But the heart had been starved
Slices of it given away for a chance at a new home
And once or twice I woke in the night,
Thinking my heart had stopped
And it might have
For it was untethered
Alienated from body and mind.
One night, I must have wandered too far away
Je me suis égarée
I looked for my body but I couldn’t see it
Then I blinked and it was there
Elle était là
It had always been there, right before my eyes.
But I couldn’t recognise it anymore.
Mais je le reconnaît plus
In sleep, she looks so peaceful
Far away from the wars that are being waged within
Is this body still mine?
Is anybody home?
Y a quelqu’un?
I can’t see you.
Fais moi un signe
I can’t hear you.
S’il te plaît
I can’t smell you.
I cannot feel you.
Tu me manques
Do you even exist?
Je sais même plus si t'existes.
Do I exist?
Je veux juste rentrer à la maison
The road home was not an easy one
Not when you’ve destroyed your old home
Cut up bits of your map
Finding pieces in odd places
But the edges don’t match
Birth is messy. There’s blood and amniotic fluid and pain and screams.
But birth is over in a second when you take in air and fill your lungs for the first time.
Rebirth is messier, and takes forever.
You think you’re swimming home, but you look around and realise you’re just treading water.
Holding your breath for the next wave washing over your head
With each wave you get better at keeping your eyes just above water
But my skin is all puckered up,
My legs and arms have turned to jelly
Perhaps I just can’t always be strong
Okay, I’ll show my hand
Shed my old skin like dead leaves
I negotiate with my monster
Add the eggshells I have tiptoed upon for far too long
We dance, our weight shifting perpetually
The earthworms join in the buffet
We laugh and cry together
Walls break down and I keep treading
This boundary between chaos and order, reason and emotion
The heap breathes, and heat grows at the core
Life and death and life in an endless loop
There is no certainty what will come out of it
Only that something interesting will.
Photo: Lihong Chew (2020)
Poet Bio
Home?
My body
What is home to you?
Home is feeling like I am exactly where I need to be, and there is no need to escape, but freedom to explore if I want to.
Lihong Chew is a curious human who loves thinking, writing, moving and creating. She is always exploring relationships with herself and the world. She hopes to be able to spread love and connect with others through the work she does.
This is adapted from the transcript for an original autodramatic piece exploring the theme of body as home, written and produced during Covid-19 lockdown.