Celebration of myself

I have a tendency to dip into darkish moods occasionally, where I question my worth and wonder if anyone would really miss me if I were to disappear off the face of the earth. Oh, it’s nothing serious; I’ve never felt ‘suicidal’ in the sense that I would actually take my own life, and to be honest, I doubt I ever will. But still, there are those days occasionally, when I’m a bit low, and it takes a lot of soul-searching to bring me out of the doldrums.

I was having a day like that when I wrote this poem, which must be 20 years ago by now. I had a friend that I worked with at Camden Council – Jan Puzowski, he was called; lovely bloke, very well-read, very analytical – and he was a big influence on me at that time. He bought me a book of Walt Whitman’s poetry, which I still have somewhere, and I will hold my¬† hands up right now and say that ‘Celebration of Myself’ is heavily influenced by the beginning of Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ (highly recommended reading, if you haven’t read it already).

I’ve never shared this work publicly; indeed, only a handful of people have ever seen it before. It’s no great work of literary genius, and won’t win me any prizes. But I like it; I like the way it becomes bolder as it goes on, how it starts almost apologetically but ends in a massive epiphany. Probably not to most people’s taste, but I like it enough to finally say, after 20 years of keeping it to myself: “Here. Have a look”. This is me, warts and all, and I think the poem is as much about 40-something me as it is about 20-something me. I have not changed so very much.

Anyhoo. A little something that early-20s me came up with, to lift a dark mood and help me realise that I’m not that bad after all. We should all do this from time to time, I think; it’s helpful to take stock occasionally.

Celebration of Myself

I am.
I AM, and have been, and will be
Me; someone special,
Who loves,
And above all, LOVES,
And is loved.

I celebrate myself;
I love myself,
And love the world,
And the trees, the seas,
The flowers, the breeze,
The sun on my face and the snow on the ground,
And every living creature.

I am Beautiful.
I am kind; considerate;
I am wise.
I am naive.
I am intelligent.
Fun; sympathetic -

I am the cook,
The Mother,
Wife, lover,
Whore and innocent,
Creator, destroyer,
Helpless -
I am all these things;
All these things are me.
I am lazy,
But excuse my laziness because my mind is always active.
I have imagination,
But no imagination.
I am confident,
But always unsure.
I am admired,
Envied even,
Because I can care, and do,
Whilst being carefree.

I am wild and free;
I am uninhibited,
But can obey convention
(when circumstance dictates).

Language is at my command;
I learn quickly, forget little.

I can judge character,
Sometimes sense danger.
I read people,
Love people,
Hate people,
Need people.

I am what I am.
You can love me, or hate me,
But you won’t change me.

I see my place in the Great Scheme Of Things.
I am but a particle
Like so many other tiny particles
of the world and life itself.

Voluntarily godless,
I embrace my goddess -
She guides me and loves me
and is me
and is me
Shining through my every pore.
Her power is my power:
giving me height and form and
- me

I am a woman.

I know who I am.

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6 Responses to “Celebration of myself”

  1. wow.


    LOVE IT!

    Gave me tingles all over….

    • Thanks Heather :) Yes, it is quite empowering I think. Certainly gives me a kick up the bum when I read it back, reminds me to believe in myself and all the things I am. I think everyone should write something along these lines, so we never forget how wonderful and complex human beings are :)

  2. Yes! Love it! Way to go Debs! x

  3. Absolutely brilliant Debs!

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