Getting Rid

I've been getting rid of things
clothes that no longer fit
boxes of books I haven't read
journals recording daily events,
I remember, in my twenties
getting rid of the idea that
my parents were perfect,
and then, that they were suppose to be...
and slowly, very slowly, the belief
that I was suppose to be
a perfect size, a perfect shape,
a perfect girl. ripping the tape
from my mouth, was painful,
and then, I spoke... I was 29.
words came out of my mouth.
I got rid of silence
I said, hey, here I am, me
I can not be gotten rid of
so easily
I am not inside that body bag
of damage, I am more.
At 36, I still stood outside myself,
and then, something happened.
I gave birth. and in that birthing
I got rid of separateness.
In my 40's I got rid of defining
myself as broken, 
as a black hole
as rotten and decaying at the core,
I said, no more, for f***s' sake.
I got rid of drowning.

I am getting rid of
owning what is not mine.
I am getting rid of bottles
of time that I have held on to
to save myself, because
they are not me. I can.
because sometimes holding on
to that s**t, costs more.
letting it go, I never believed
in that bullshit before
because the words themselves
mean nothing, when you are
just surviving. there is no thriving.
in that darkness, blindness,
but I got rid of that.
I climbed out, and said,
F**k Holy Hell, I'm still alive.
Goddamn. 
I got rid of that.