Your Shame Is Not My Shame | Jenny Wren

I felt it.

In my skin as it crawled, strapped into wire underwear, as the hair grew on my legs and I hunched my shoulders to hide my body and the baggy jumpers that fell to my knees.

It lived in me.

As a teenager, the guilt, the fear, disposable, sweaty, smelly, sinful, regress back to childhood with your French-braided hair, horses and fairytales.

Thought I killed it.

When I roared my child out of my body and faced oblivion, I saw the shame as separate from me and found strength in calling it by name at last.

I knew it.

When I wed after bed and my breasts were for feeding my child but it was disrespectful, distasteful, don't let the old men see.

Confirmed it. I was forced to confront, I dove deep, lay in the dark of the shame and bathed in it. Pointed my toes to the moonlight, in awe of the tar of it. Felt it hot and sticky where I was coated in it.

I realised it wasn't mine.

When I rose from the darkness only to be batted down.

When their eyes wouldn't make contact with mine.

When the panic grew in my throat and my soul screamed no and I felt the shame try to claw me back, just one last time...

No.

And you're right about one thing, I am easy after all. Easy to love, easy to trust, easy to laugh with, easy to spend time with, I move my body with the ease that it is to be me, to be free. Free of the shame that so long lived in this perfect body.

So you keep throwing shame

And I'll keep being free

Story Of A Good Girl | Jenny Wren

Dolls lined up, all in a row.

Fairy girl, bright hair, wasn’t to know.

Told I was a flirt with my big eyes and lashes.

Two years old.

When I got older, my imagination burst.

Animals and princesses as I turned and turned.

Heart hungry, heart shy.

Pinning my hopes on those boys that I liked.

If I only knew how vulnerable

I looked on the outside.

#

When I grew older, the horses arrived

I learned magic with my hands and healed them

With my mind.

Hours in the stableblock, whispering

Hauling hay

Sweating in my good body, girl body,

Woman’s body

That threatened to turn bad.

Dangerous in my knee socks

And my skirt

Thigh-high.

And now it was drink and endless nights.

Told I loved the drama

Instead I tried to hide.

You’d find me under tables and in cupboards most times.

Overwhelmed from the pain

I carried

Inside.

They didn’t want to know—

Thought that my instability

Was an affront to their ability

Every mouthful I denied

Mocking their sacrifice,

Sometimes I still feel the choke

Where food symbolised

The food of love.

#

Painted patterns

On my skin

Needles pushed through cartilage.

A different kind.

As a child I worshipped

At the stain-glass walls

Now I worship

Under artist’s scrawls

The sound of the gun can penetrate

Through to the bone.

Pressing to become more real, more real

More.

I found a man

Who called me home

That irresistible emptiness

So familiar

Beckoning forth.

#

Body rounding, what is this?

I know I dreamed of you

Little fish

You wriggle and thrive

And all I have to do to keep you

Is survive

And birthing you could be

The hardest thing in my life

And I did it,

And you’re here

And you’re telling me that it was all lies.

Look how the pretty one

Can be bloody and wise

Roaring her child earthside

#

Unlearning takes time.

The labyrinth to traverse

The lessons so hard

You have to learn twice.

I am not the dancing girl

But the woman

In her fortress.

The warrior

Even when my voice trembles.

Those hands for healing

Now used in birthing

The power that I find in words

Come together

Weave

A magic web around my world

#

You will attempt to cross

At your peril.

What I Learned From My Son This Week | Jenny Wren

Today is a big week for us as it's Judah's first week in reception class at school.

I have had so much going on with work and other stresses, and I recently was recommended to purchase a piece of Kyanite, a gemstone which is said to help with psychic boundaries and emotional wellness. I was so happy when it arrived last week and I have been wearing it daily, and hanging it up on the bathroom door when I go to sleep at night.

When I woke up yesterday morning I couldn't find it anywhere. Judah always gets up before me. I searched in the laundry basket, in my bedroom, anywhere it would have logically been and it was gone. I felt so upset as I felt like this necklace had been a proactive step for me in restoring some harmony and balance.

Judah is a bit of a magpie. He loves gemstones and jewellery and he has always been particularly fascinated with crystal cages and popping the crystals in and out. I asked him if he had seen it. No, he hadn't. I asked him again. I told him he wasn't in trouble I would just really like to have it back.

He heaved a deep sigh and went to the coffee table, where he opened one of the drawers to reveal my necklace, crystal out of the cage.

I didn't reprimand him, I just reminded him - Judah, this is mummy's special necklace. We don't take other people's special things.

"Well..." he said "You take my kitty and give it to Autumn-VI"

I was stunned. Judah has had this orange cat beanie baby since he was two, when his father and I separated, it was a good way to keep the comfort and continuity when he went on sleepovers. He loves this orange kitty. It gets packed dutifully in the front pocket of his suitcase and is clutched to his chest at night. 

Autumn-Violet is in the stage where she wants EVERYTHING. Anything that she perceives to be of value she just plain WANTS and she will kick up a fuss to have it. I will admit if I want five minutes peace to get stuff done it has been easier to give her Judah's kitty. She loves the privilege and babbles at it while I get on with something else.

Judah would sometimes snatch it back and I would gently remind him that she is a baby.

But obviously to him - this was not okay. I was giving his treasured possession to the baby and invalidating his feelings. I had been doing something really wrong without even realising it.

It made me really think about the importance we adults place on our possessions versus our children's. How my necklace that gave me emotional comfort I had automatically attributed greater value than his long-standing kitty. 

I felt awful.

It was a good reminder to me that for little ones, their experience and autonomy are just as important if not more so than ours. 

I apologised sincerely and told him that he was quite right, and I had been very wrong. Good thing they are more patient and forgiving of us as we learn.