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October 15
I know, I know, I suck at posting consistently. That's why, as you can see I've decided to start dating these posts. Firstly, I'm sorry for being gone. Between university, writing, working two jobs on top of Poetry Undressed, and working towards releasing Literature Undressed life has been a wee bit hectic. 
But here I am, today, to tell you guys about the newest project; Literature Undressed.
Poetry Undressed has been doing so well, and grown so much just in the past four months, and I got to thinking "what can I do for ALL authors?", and then I had it, create a literary magazine. Some of you might be wondering why I wouldn't just fuse the two together, have one literary magazine for everything, well...theres actually a reason for that. While I am passionate about creating space for writers across all genres, I still hold the strong belief that poetry as a system has a larger tendency towards discrimination and seclusion. Because of this, I want to keep Poetry Undressed seperate so as to not take away any of the room that has been made in the creation of this site. 
However, with all that being said I still believe that there needs to be more space for authors, especially up and coming authors. So many of us have a story, or ten, or a thousand to tell, and so often those stories are never heard. This is what led to Literature Undressed, a literary magazine with a focus on short fiction and creative non-fiction. 
I am sure many of you, if not all of you are writers outside of the genre of poetry and urge you to submit your work to both publications.

My lord! How has it been so many days since I posted “Anyone Else”?! Here I was, posting this poem and thinking to myself, this is a moment to take a break and reflect, really allow yourself to come to terms with what you have written before making a full post , take care of your mental health. Now the next thing I know it’s a week later and I still have not put a blog post up. Life can get crazy like that, especially life when you’re trying to live it with a mental illness. I find myself completely unaware of time as a practical concept, to me it is just something on the clock that tells me what time people want me to show up for plans, and aside from that it really does not exist within my world. But… that is not what this post is about. Lets talk about “Anyone Else”. I wrote this poem in my head while I stared at myself in the mirror after a shower, I remember thinking to myself “why don’t I recognize her? this is not the same body as the one that got into the shower” and it wasn’t, at least not to me. I saw rolls and blemishes and stretch marks where they had not previously been, I was suddenly 30 pounds heavier and the bags under my eyes seemed to sink so deeply into my face that it was like I was hollow, I didn’t know me anymore. And I said to myself, gosh! I wish I could be someone else; I wished that I could be Kylie Jenner, or Angelina Jolie, or anyone of Victoria Secrets Angels, I figured if I was someone else, someone like them that this wouldn’t happen to me, I would look in the mirror and I would recognize myself as someone everyone else wanted to look like. Then it occurred to me, I don’t know them, and they might not even know themselves, who’s to say that one of those women aren’t looking in the mirror and seeing someone they don’t recognize from five minutes before? And so I think that was more what this poem ended up being, an ode to all the people out there who don’t recognize themselves, and who wish the person looking back at them was someone else, because we all wish that, there is always going to be someone who’s arms we like better, who’s smile looks nicer, or who’s hair cut is EXACTLY what we wanted. But that person isn’t you, and a lot of the times the person who looks back at you in the bathroom isn’t you either. And all though this poem does not end on a happy note, and it doesn’t say “hey look we are all beautiful in our own way” it is still a testament to the fact that we aren’t alone in our insecurities. And perhaps I will follow this poem up with one that does say “were all beautiful and you should shout it from the rooftops” but I doubt that will be for a long while, because we hear that every day and frankly I’m tired of hearing it. I am tired of being told by society that I am beautiful while simultaneously being told everything that is wrong with me and all of the products that can fix it. And I am not going to sit here and lie to all of you, sometimes I wish that I was someone else, who isn’t me.

Anyone Else

God I wish my eyes were't so puffy
And my skin was tighter
And my belly flatter

I wish I looked like that girl you starred at
a little too long while we were on vacation

I wish I looked like anyone else, anyone.
ANYONE, who wasn't me.

-Isabelle Call

Apologies

I wanted to apologize to everyone for my being so absent as of late and give an explanation as to why that is. For the past 9 years of my life I have struggled immensely with clinical depression, and about 6 or so years ago I also developed an anxiety disorder as the result of a few traumatic experiences which I don't think I'm quite ready to share with the world just yet. For the most part I had been doing a lot better, things have been going extremely well for me in my life and I am beyond greatful for all of the amazing opportunities I have been given, and all of the incredible people who have come into my life, but with that being said I could tell something was coming and I tried my best to suppress it. As you may have guessed that suppression did not work, and I fell down that deep dark hole of depression that is so hard to claw your way out of. I have spent the past week or so lying in my bed, sometimes making my way to the couch, and constanlty covered in dampness from all of the tears I've been crying for seemingly no exact reason. Yesterday I was able to pull myself up enough to go to the park and listen to my boyfriend play the guitar for me and I am proud of myself for doing so. It was funny, because as I spoke with him, more so choked words out through sobs, about why I feel this way I couldn't help but laughing at how riduculously I sounded and having light bulbs go off that I had never really thought about before. I was telling him how silly I felt because here I am crying to him about feeling bad because I have so much happiness in my life that I am constantly mad at myself for not enjoying it. How silly right? Here you are, knowing you have a clinically diagnosed mental illness, advocating for mental health, educating and understanding the inner workings of the disease, and yet you're mad at yourself for not "just being happy", come on Isabelle. But this is something I think a lot of us struggle with, we can sit and rationalize all we want, but in the end sometimes we need to just allow oursleves to feel, we need to sit there and go "hey, maybe I can allow myself to feel sad, to be happy in my saddness because we can't all be happy all the time and I cant kick myself in the shins because I'm not happy, life would be boring living in blissful happiness constantly"; and so that is what I am currently trying to do, accept that sometimes I'm going to be sad, and a lot of the time it's not going to be for any other reason than I have a mental illness, and that's okay, because I'm still kicking it. I want you guys to know that I have been trying my hardest to be better for all of you and to make sure that this site runs as smoothly as possible. I thank you all for your patience, and your graciousness and I hope everyone else out there struggling with their mental health remembers that it is okay to allow yourself to feel sad, don't beat yourself up, you aren't alone in it (cliche I know). 

So what is “The Shifty Clock”? a poem yes, but we all know that. I wrote The Shifty Clock as I was experiencing a pretty intense panic attack. I suffer from extreme anxiety, and I also have recently discovered that over the years I have developed a pretty severe anxious attachment style; this can cause some major issues in my life especially within my relationships. This particular panic attack stemmed from exactly that, a faulty moment in a relationship. If you have an anxious attachment style then you know how hard relationships can be, especially with someone who is incredibly independent, or who does not like to be on their phone and prefers to be “present” with you in person. Well, that is all fine and good until, like me, you fall into an unfortunate situation where you, and your significant other have to go into isolation. That leads us to this poem. I was sitting on my floor, freaking out that I was insignificant to the world and to my SO, so I thought to myself, what if I wrote a poem about it? And then I thought, how is a sad ass poem going to make me feel better? Well… what if I write a slightly sad poem that is read in a fun and happy way? And that was the key. Originally the poem ended after “something seems shifty”, but I was reminded that in fact, it was only my anxiety and my “wriggling insides” making me feel the way that I was feeling. And so The Shifty Clock was born, and my anxiety began to subside as I sat there and read it to myself over and over again.

The Shifty Clock

Tick Tick Tick Tick
 Each second goes by lickity split
 What a funny saying, I think as I giggle
 While my insides turn, twist, and wriggle
 
 Do you know what it’s like inside of this box?
 Where everything around me reminds me of clocks?
 No, of course you don’t, you’re sitting there fine
 While I’m alone in my tub downing a bottle of wine
 
 The water gets lower and lower, my body starts sinking
 I don’t even notice the drying skin as I’m drinking
 Then you call me and tell me you miss me
 But my wriggling insides say something seems shifty
 
 If you missed me so much how did you just sit
 Listening to each tick go by bit by bit
 But your sing-songy voice puts me into a trance
 And I remember each smile and each stolen glance
 
 So I reach deep inside to that internal clock
 Then even further giving my insides a knock
 I remind them you’re safe, and solid, and stable
 And you can love them if they’re not quick to mislabel
 
 So the clock stops it’s ticking and my insides are still
 Sitting silently, waiting, and giving into your will

-Isabelle Call

I am writing this roughly 26 hours after the site’s launch and all I can say is WOW! I am blown away by the unbelievable response that has come through on the first day. I can’t believe how many people we have already reached, how many submissions we have already received, and how many lovely people I have had the pleasure to converse with! I never would have dreamed that within the first 24 hours such a large impact would be made and I would be hearing from people all around the world! I look forward to all of the submissions yet to come, and to the opportunity to share in all of your work. I am so grateful to everyone who has submitted, everyone working on their submissions, and all of those who have found the site and are ready to just read some poetry! Thank you to everyone for all of your involvement, lets get our poetry on.

Atmospheric

If I could soar high up in the clouds
Like a leaf detached from its birth place
As the wind crinkled and cracked my body
Flying higher into the atmosphere
A place devoid of life
Where it cannot exist
But I do
Then would you understand?
-Isabelle Call

A Question to My Mother

Did you stop for a moment to think
It may be an idea not worth saving?
That the blistering storms which sat idly by
Behind cool, calm waters of blue
Might not be worth braving?
That the very idea of happiness
At the end of the rainbow was nothing more 
Than that, an idea.

Did you stop for a moment to see
That the grass and soft breezes
You saw in your heart at a moments first glance
Were no longer there, and the cool calm hand
Of tolerance would raise itself with such eases 
And sweep across your face with not
A moments hesitation or remorse
For the pain it inflicted.

Did you stop for a moment to think
Of me.

-Isabelle Call

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