Self Esteem Poem

Staring in the mirror,

Once again,

A never ending war,

Another day to settle,

On the reflection,

Staring back at me.

                Scars on my back, stomach, and side,

Evidence of my pressure sore, and trache also,

“My battle wounds,”

Of my Medical War,

Taunting me,

As they still are so evident.

                The Squishy, poor posture,

That prevents me,

From feeling beautiful,

And having that “model look”

In crop tops and bikinis;

                Physical differences rearing their ugly faces,

Evident and tormenting me.

I punch the reflection, then yell,

Holding my hand now,

I sit back and think,

Back on my life,

And suddenly smile.

                All the wonderful people in my life,

Some I wouldn’t have met,

If I had not had,

The bad physical disability that I had.

                The lives I’ve touched,

The people I’ve inspired,

How I gave others hope,

Why can’t I do that for myself?

I suck down the “poor Pitiful me” party,

And break another smile,

I am thankful for everyone in my life,

Because even though,

I am not “normal,”

They are in my life,

                Love me, and make my life,

Which would otherwise be lonely, cloudy, and grey,

Shine with a beauty bright. 

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“Who is Jamie?” Poem

All my life, I would like to say,

I was a “normal” child

Could run and do all the activities like the others,

In p.e.

But that would be a lie.

Sure, I went to P.E., with my fellow peers,

But that was only two days a week.

                Rest of the time, I was segregated,

To a “special” Adapted P.E.

                Don’t get me wrong, I loved the adapted P.E.,

But when you already know you are different than your friends,

You don’t want,

Another sign or “special treatment”,

That proves it.

                You long to be “normal,” but no;

Sit on the sidelines, walk the track…

While the other kids run and tackle,

Coaches and teaches,

 Fearing you bruising and the possibility of parents suing.

“Can’t do this, Can’t do that, oh be careful! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Why are these warnings only given to me?

Why not Jared, Josh, or Malorie?

                Even now, as an adult,

I still let people,

Who I trust, and think know better than I,

Make decisions for my life.

                I lie, and say it’s just for advice,

Because if they knew the truth,

They’d just say something along the lines,

“Stay true to you.”

                How can I do that?

When All my life,

I have had others,

Telling me what to do,

Never letting me,

Test the waters or learn from mistakes,

Okay, there were mistakes I could still learn,

But really, how can it be, me An Adult?

 When I have no strong standing,

Or sense of self.

but, in all honesty,

Who is Jamie?