I Gave Myself the World

Catarine Hancock

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Central Avenue Publishing, an imprint of Central Avenue Marketing Ltd.

www.centralavenuepublishing.com

I GAVE MYSELF THE WORLD

Trade Paperback: 978-1-77168-282-4

Epub: 978-1-77168-283-1

Published in Canada

Printed in United States of America

1. POETRY / Women Authors 2. POETRY / Love

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

for the teenage girls that were, are, and will be.

this world is yours for the taking.

trigger warning:

this book deals with topics of mental health, body image, emotional abuse, and sex.

please take care.

author’s note

i gave myself the world uses the major arcana from tarot as a narrative tool. you don’t need to be familiar with the meaning of the cards to understand, relate to, or enjoy this collection. i chose the major arcana as my inspiration for this book because much like life, the path it follows is not linear. it is not simply point a to point b. rather, it is filled with ups and downs, moments of progress followed by moments of regression, healing from one thing and then being hurt by something else. it reflects the reality of how we go through life. it will never be a smooth uphill climb. there will be days spent tumbling down, days spent sitting at rock bottom. but you will always be, in some way, moving forward. if there is one thing you should know about tarot going into this book, let it be that: you must move forward, always.

you are standing in front of your mirror, studying yourself. the weight of desire drapes heavily across your shoulders. the desire for what, exactly, you are not yet sure of.

a voice from inside you, but not quite your own, asks, “what is it that you want?”

you dwell on the question, eyes flitting over your reflection. you look tired.

that voice repeats itself, louder this time: “what do you want?”

it dawns on you, ever so slowly, what your answer is. you want to be happy. you want to feel beautiful, like you belong in your own skin. you want to be free, unrestrained in your existence. you do not want a life rid of hardship; rather, you want the ability to handle it in a way that is less debilitating, that leaves room for growth. you want it all. you want everything.

after a moment, you answer:

“i want all this world can give me.”

there is a pause, and then the voice responds:

“then you’re going to have to give it to yourself.”

the fool

today is a beginning.

it is the softest of awakenings:

the fluttering of an eyelid

as you turn towards the sun.

there is a world out there,

and you are reaching for it

with fingers spread

wide and wanting.

a hundred paths twist

across plains and oceans,

through forests and caves,

over valleys and mountains.

you don’t know which one

to choose just yet.

they all call to you

with their own unique songs.

it’s okay to not know

which path is yours.

what’s important is that

you are taking the first step.

i looked in the mirror

and saw somebody beautiful

staring back at me

with wide, eager eyes,

lips curled in a smile

as if to say

finally.

finally,

you see me.

—that fateful day

oh, how i hungered

for a new beginning.

to move to a town

that didn’t know me at all,

to tell it

this is who i am

and not hear

but that is not what

we think you are

in response.

—on escaping your hometown

i will never forget

my first night alone

in my new apartment.

how i fell asleep

smiling,

dreaming of all

the possible things

i could do the next day

because for the first time,

everything about my life

was truly and completely

my own.

—limitless

how many more excuses

are you going to give yourself

every morning when you wake up?

how many more doors will you close

before seeing what’s on the other side?

how many chances at happiness will you miss

because you’re too afraid to reach for them?

—when is enough, enough?

sometimes

what looks like

a single step

is really a plunging fall

into a world

you never expected

to become part of.

—snowball

one of the best choices i made

was to open my mind to the possibility

that maybe the thing

i least expected

was actually the best thing

to ever happen to me.

you showed me so much

of myself.

you introduced me to

pieces of me i never

thought existed,

and i am so grateful.

but there was always

one piece i could feel

hiding in my heart

that you tried to stay away from.

and i would reach for it,

but i could never quite

grasp it.

after a while,

i realized that

it was a part of me

i was meant to discover alone.

and maybe it was curiosity

or maybe it was desperation,

but i had to know.

i had to.

—maybe one day you’ll understand

it is 8:27 a.m. on a tuesday. your alarm is set for 9, but you woke up early. in the extra moments, you soak in the feeling of the day. it feels different.

“today will be a good day,” you say, trying to start things off on the right foot. you taste the feeling of inevitability in the air, as though something has shifted overnight and a wheel has been set in motion. a small smile graces your face.

“yes. i think today will be a good day.”

you dwell on the idea of a fresh start, unsure why it does not scare you anymore. at 9, your alarm dings. you debate hitting snooze, even though you’re wide awake. for once, you decide to get out of bed on time. it feels like a puzzle piece clicking into place. again, you smile to yourself.

to new beginnings, you think, and head for the shower.

the magician

only you have the power

to create a universe

that is just how you have

always dreamed it to be.

this may seem to be

a daunting task,

but look at all the seeds

you have already planted.

look at the roots

already digging deep.

you are the artist

behind this masterpiece.

and oh,

the art

you have already

created.

for so many years

i gave my writing the face

of the last one to kiss me,

the smirk of whoever

broke my heart last.

and now,

i am happy and healed enough

to not want to give my poems

his blue eyes or brown hair.

rather,

i create them in my likeness,

with my chocolate eyes

and my dark curls,

my round cheeks

and laugh lines.

so now,

instead of seeing a ghost

when i look back at these pages,

i will just see

me.

—lookalike

i can’t tell you

exactly when

i started to love myself,

but one day i woke up

and thought,

you know, i really do

deserve everything,

and since then,

that’s just how

i’ve lived.

i don’t apologize

for the way my body

moves anymore;

i don’t hold it

to some unattainable

standard.

i don’t stop myself

from exploring

new things,

i don’t care

if they’re weird

or uncool

or “not like me.”

because i really do

deserve everything.

i deserve the life

i’ve dreamed of.

i spent a lot of time

trying to fit

into a mold

not meant for me

before i realized that

i am supposed to

create my own.

so this is your sign.

look into the mirror.

step away from the

ill-fitting mold

somebody else gave you,

and make your own.

—you are your own artist

i don’t know where

i’m going just yet,

but at least

i’m going

somewhere.

beginning to believe

that you are enough

is one of the hardest

battles you will ever fight.

self-doubt will whisper

in your ear at every turn.

it will beg you not to

break the hold it has on you.

it will cling to you,

teeth and claws sunk

into your soul,

and you will have to tear

yourself free from its grasp.

it will hurt,

this escape. this liberation.

but it will be worth it.

in the end,

it will be worth it.

i spent so long

dreaming about what

i wanted to become,

rather than working

towards it.

i wasted years

where i could’ve been

experiencing life,

living as my uninhibited self,

and instead, i only lived

that life in my head.

there is nothing i regret

more than waiting so long

before finally gathering the courage

to make it a reality.

my dad always warned me

about spending too much time

looking down, and it wasn’t

until i turned 22 that i figured out

what he meant, when i started

looking up and thinking,

now this, this is something

i want to remember.

so start making plans. create a pinterest board and title it “manifesting” or “what i’m working towards” or “who i’m becoming.” fill it with mundane shit, but shit that you want anyway, like photos of outfits you’d like to wear or plants you want to fill your apartment with or books you want to read. fill it with photos of the countries you want to visit and the cities you want to live in, the streets you want to walk down and the parks you want to sit in. fill it with the career stuff, too, like the stages you want to perform on, the discoveries you want to make, the conferences you want to speak at, or the classrooms you want to teach in. fill it with the family you’d like to have, the way you’d like to decorate your wedding, the house of your dreams. pin everything you see that makes you think, that would be nice to experience. every. single. thing. because life is more than just your clothing or your bedroom décor or even your career. it’s about everything. everything that brings you joy, that adds a piece, however small, onto the mosaic that is you. so don’t be afraid to want a little bit of all the world has to offer. it’s in your best interest to try and experience as much of it as you can.

you sit at the desk in your bedroom, staring at the blank page in front of you. you feel compelled to express your excitement about this sudden feeling of starting again, this newfound discovery, but can’t find the words. you can feel them tumbling around inside of you, but can’t figure out the right order to write them down in.

“perhaps i’m not meant to be able to express this yet,” you say with a sigh, gnawing on your bottom lip in frustration.

you aren’t even sure of what you’d write, anyway. i am growing into myself, finally, after all this time, perhaps, or i am starting to paint my own picture of what i want my life to be. but you’re afraid that you may lose the magic these words seem to carry if you write them down or even say them out loud. so you set the pencil down and go about your day, content to bring these feelings to life in a different way.

the high priestess

there is a small voice

inside you

that grows day by day.

she whispers your name,

louder and stronger

each time.

she tells you,

“i can show you

all you want to know.

you only need to open

the doors for me.”

you ask,

“what is it that you have

to show me?”

she says,

“only the simple truth.

there is only one way.”

you ask,

“what is it?”

she answers,

“trust in yourself.

you have all the answers

you need within you.”

whenever i think of all the times

i should have listened

to my intuition but didn’t,

a part of me twists with sadness.

how much heartbreak could

i have been spared if i hadn’t

ignored that churning feeling

in my stomach.

how many tears would

never have fallen if i had

done the hard thing and said no,

or walked away.

so i listen to my intuition now

for the girl who didn’t.

whose scars i now bear.

whose grief i now carry.

one of the first things i learned about my mother is that she is almost always right:

her predictions about the friends i make or the people i date almost always come true, even if i don’t want to believe them at first.

and sometimes when the ending she predicted arrives, i want to ask why she didn’t do more to protect me. which is not to say that she doesn’t protect me, because she would if things became dangerous, or excruciating. but there have been times when she knew her daughter better than her daughter knew herself—stubborn and always wanting to see the best in people who didn’t deserve it. so she would say, i don’t think that girl is a good friend, or he will do it again, he does not deserve your forgiveness, and i would argue back viciously, the way only mother and daughter can argue, until i’d come home crying one too many times. and she would hold me each time without fail, knowing that i was learning the lessons she could not teach me herself.

—sometimes, mother does know best

your body has seen more than you know and remembers more than you realize. it still knows the touch of a lover you haven’t thought of in years. it would pick their voice out of a crowd in an instant. it holds memories your mind might have long forgotten: how you got that scar on your knee, how old you were when that freckle formed, the exact way their mouth tastes. your body knows more than you could ever understand, and sometimes, it realizes something faster than you want to accept. so while it’s screaming at you that whatever you’re about to do is a bad idea, and your mind is working overtime to explain why it’s not, take a moment and think about all your body has been through and how much of its experience you can hardly recall. think about how much the body remembers. and trust it.

—gut feeling

a woman’s intuition:

many will fear it,

and many will doubt it,

but you should do neither.

it is one of the greatest weapons

you have.

sometimes

i feel as if i’m watching

my life play out in front of me

I Gave Myself the World

author’s note

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