It's All Okay

People will always have their own perceptions and misperceptions. The healing process of a survivor is intricate and complex.  The best medicine, for me, is to write.  I've heard people say in the past, "Oh.  There she goes again." Very few people will have the ability to understand.  I have no desire to time travel - in the past or even to the future.  I am in the moment.  In short, I don't care if people misperceive this blog as constantly "staying in the past."  I'm concerned about the survivor and the victim possibly reading this.  I'm concerned about the few friends in my inner circle who get it and have their own way of spreading the message on this subject. The few who constantly encourage me no matter what phase of the healing process I'm in.  The few who say "It's all okay."  Because you know what?  It is.

16 Poems

16 poems
Not counting this one
And I'm finally feeling right
Silver pen flashing
Laptop keys
Clack
Clacking

Pillow Softly Weeping

My pillow cries out
Softly weeping
Awake
Never really sleeping
Holding all my dreams
Keeping them protected
One she holds out for me
That special dream
Always projected
Placing it under
Vivid
White light
Helping me see it clearly
As I sleep through the night.

Take Back the Night

In this sky with no stars
No cosmic wisp
Of dreams & wishes
To follow wistfully
Take it back!
Take back the night!
Hold on to any dream
Claim it
With all your might
Find your own star
Shooting past the moon
In this black velvet night
We
The celestial beings
Of stardust
And moonbeams
Take back the night!

The Story Waits

As I spill my guts
Refill the ruts
My story
She patiently waits
I'm not done
I'll write her better
Under the blazing sun
Truth
And all its glory.

Here's Another One

When you finished with that
Here's another one
Keys burning bright
With poems that light
Dark tunnels
In the cavernous
Abyss of my mind
Carrying my small torch
Long into the night.

Back Against the Wind

I've my back
Against
This cold winter
Wind
Propelling me forward
Making an easier step
A new day's prep

Better Than Reese's Pieces

I love me
Almost better
Than Reese's Pieces
All my broken pieces

You Can't Take This

You can take anything you want
But I'll be damned
If you take this
I am
A poetess
My words you cannot take
I will not break
I'll rise up against any storm
Better for the scorn
Walk away shivering
But my mind will be working
My fingers quivering
The poems
Burning their way to the top
Take what you want
But I'll never stop
No
You can't take this.

Come Away With Me

Meet me in the
Green
Green
Fairy glen
In the dream pool
Is where we'll swim
Wash away all our worries
Forget about yesterday
Just for a moment
It is here
We will stay.

Rip it Out

I'm ripping it out tonight
Bleeding heart
Red and bright
Tearing out all the smite
Gingerly
Placing her back in
And starting all over again
She won't be shiny
Far from new
Patched up lines
From the ripping
All askew
But when the light
Hits my heart
As it nearly always does
A kaleidoscope of colors
Will form
A shadowy reflection
Of my releasing
The white doves.

Healing Prayer

Her story compels me
Propels me
To automatically forgive her
Her own mother
Degraded and humiliated her
It was a learned event
I pray for her
And I pray for myself
That we both move
Through graceful healing
On my knees
Praying
History
Refuses to
Repeat itself
I wrap us both in
Comfort
Calming
Gentle voices
To soothe whatever
Pain
I wrap her in love
As she sleeps
Praying by morning
She sees
Just how much
She means
To me.

Hold Your Tongue!

I cannot very well
Hold my tongue
When I've learned
The fine art
Of nearly
Chewing it off
Swallowing
Venomous words
That I know
Would
Find the right vein
Later feeling
Guilty
Hot tears
Let it rain
Let it rain
But when you see me
I'll smile
Holding on behind my back
My tongue
Let you decide on your own
Wondering all the while
If anyone really sees me
Can you even hear me?

Long, Long Road of Healing

It's a lifetime
Of that
I'm sure
Taught to be shy
Demure
Speaking out
Looked down upon
Feelings so easily
Trampled on
Thank God for my poetry
It's the only thing
That saves me
Chasing the
Darkness
Slowly away
But it'll
Take a lifetime
Of that
I'm sure.

Painting it Pretty

So I'll do it again
And again
I'll write on a different
Vibe
A new line
I am
A chameleon
My verse
Helping me to
Change my colors
Perhaps hoping
You won't see
The dark colors
That lie so
Close to my surface
I digress.

Think It All Away

I'm a master
Of the journey
Internal
Riding the positive
Celestial thoughts
As if they're eternal
Shut myself down
Smile
To hide the frown
Hiding from the
Critical
Analytical
Clanging voices
Glittering my dreams
With new choices
Creating a fantasy
Because it just
Hurts less.

Mother, Mother

She'll leave me
Questioning
My very life
Pointing out
My wrongs
Turn around
And tell me
She's proud
Things I've survived
She never could've overcome
She'll hug me
Tell me she
Loves me
But
Mother, mother
Shows her love
In some unusual ways

Dark Cloud

The dark cloud
Hangs over me now
Verbal onslaught
Nonstop
I escape in my poetry
Find my inner symmetry
But she's there
Berating
Everything
I once thought I was adopted
A new family
I would've opted
But alas
Tis not the case
She's my mother
With a constant
Sneer
On her face
And I'm left wondering
Does she really love me?

Update

I've always been here, of course.  But I've hidden myself away.  Healing comes in stages & insomnia still claims to be my best friend.  Depression comes, too.  I was in a ragged state not so long ago.  Barely enough sleep to even define it as sleep.  Going through the motions like a robot.  So tired all the time.  Thank God for my poetry, or I'd be in a padded room right now.  As far as the insomnia goes, it's ok.  It's getting better.  I always did like writing at night.  Taking the observations of the day and spilling them in poetry or my journal during the comfort of the night - nothing is more relaxing. 

I'd like to report that my journey is almost complete.  Tis not.  The court dates loom over my head but the power they once had over does not.  I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Sad that that light must come from my tiny tot telling me that he "Doesn't like visiting daddy."  He still goes because he feels compelled.  I know.  He's only 3 (almost 4).  He's my emotional introvert (so much like me!)  He'll keep going until I say he doesn't have to or when he decides he's had enough.  And knowing him, if I said he didn't have to, he'd decide to go.  I'm not sure that makes sense but I understand it.  He sees good daddies and that's what he wants - a good daddy. 

Since I'm regurgitating here, I might as well spill it all.  My ex is prone to ending the visits early or picking him up late.  3 years and there's still no bond.  I've limited my contact with my ex to the point that I don't even look him in the eye during the pick ups / drop offs.  Absolutely no texts and when he does send  the occasional text, I immediately threaten police or to block his calls.  The threat of police pretty much does the trick.  He's a narcissistic sociopathic abuser, though, so he has a lot of tricks.  The last in his arsenal is changing Tot's clothes and holding the clothes Tot originally wears  to the visit hostage.  It's so childish but he also knows it annoys me to no end; made me angry for a while.  Now? I don't say anything.  I keep the clothes he's changed Tot into.  Sure enough my ex will blast me verbally like he has in the recent past.  Well.  I threw away one shirt he dressed Tot in and I threaten to burn the clothes I now am holding in hostage.  It's a game.  A sick game.  And the only thing that seems to work is when I go ballistic & react crazier than he expects.  He'll tire of this new game.  He does not protrude a sense of stability in anything in his life. 

Probably half of you are scratching your head wondering what I'm babbling about and may even think it doesn't sound as bad as I make it seem.  I'm fine.  I think the survivors out there reading this really understand what my point is.  It's a long process once the divorce from a narcissistic sociopathic abuser is final.  A long, arduous process until the abuser decides the game is no longer fun and he finds his next victim.  I'm hoping there is some survivor / victim reading this and realizes it is worth leaving your abuser.  Maybe my rambling isn't rambling and I'm pointing out all the games the abuser likes to play.  Nothing a normal person would do, that's for sure.  It's all about eliciting some kind of emotion from their supposed victim.  I say "supposed" because I don't see myself as a victim.  Abusers don't see the "survivor".  They could care less.  They like victims.  Victims cry and hide and are afraid of speaking up against their insanity.  Survivors tell them to f--k off and hang up the phone and later remind them to their face that the police are only a phone call away.  Of course, it doesn't hurt in my case to remind him that this is still a felony charge.  The court allowed him to be free on his own cognizance.  I have 2 police reports filed since my divorce became final.  I'll never grow tired of reminding victims / survivors that the official police report is the best weapon in extreme circumstances. 

So now that I take myself out of the sick game he has been demanding on playing for almost 4 years, there leaves an empty shell of a bond between son and father that is supposed to have been forming the entire time.  It has not.  I'm not even worried at this point what the court might decide.  An overnight visit is stressful for me to think about but I have planned out my discussion with the judge well in advance.  I am making all the necessary adjustments and preparing for them accordingly.  It's a balancing act and I'm trying to find balance and harmony. 

I'll remind everyone - I'm in a much better place now.  Life has thrown me some curve balls recently but even that's a blessing.  My son had been experiencing a severe case of separation anxiety.  I have the time now to nurture that.  It's hard.  Really hard.  But I'm monitoring my own emotional response and helping to balance it all.  It's working.  Tot went to bed tonight at 8:30 pm instead of 10:30pm.  His emotional outbursts are still happening but I'm helping him through that.  Tot is so amazingly strong.  He started going to daycare when he was 12 weeks old and first saw his dad under strict supervised visits which lasted for a year.  His sweet little mind is trying to make sense of it all and it just doesn't add up.  It never will.  That's the part that breaks my heart.  My ex can do anything stupid to me but there's also Tot involved here. 

God opened my time in the most unusual way and I'm not questioning His reasoning.  I'm taking it as a necessary blessing and soaking up His message.  I was close to a nervous breakdown only months prior.  Tot would've needed counseling. Our bond is only getting stronger. 

I'll leave you with this.  A week ago I worried what effect all of "this" would have on Tot and I started spiraling down a rabbit hole of more worrisome thoughts.  Tot was playing by himself with his toys and trucks (playing by himself for the first time).  He saw me, I sat down, he ran up to me.  Cupped my cheeks in his sweet little hands and said "Mommy.  I am so proud of you.  I really love you."  My worries immediately melted away. 


*I haven't checked for errors.  Ignore the typos if there are any.  It's late and I'm finally, blessedly tired.

Changeling

I thought I lost myself
  my reality
    a dark, blackhole depression
Everything
  slipped
    away
Shifting of time
Shifting my own misperceptions
Forgetting how to dream
Giving up on hope
Downslope

Funny how it happens
In the midst of that
Great dark abyss
The slipping away
Becomes the
Ultimate relief

Having nothing
Finding
Everything.

Visceral Healing

Feeling of transcendence into
Neural pathways
The firing
The synapse
Felt deep in your core
Traveling with the energy
Without resistance.

Gray Goose Morning

Victory taking flight
Slicing through the
Gray flannel sky
Edging out winter
The sun making her
Presence known
On the distant horizon.

Sea swept

The bottle
Drifts ashore
A message from a
Thousand years before

Strange how the salty sea
Did not wash away
The words penned
So eloquently

A mist in the air
A whimsical feel
Wind tickling the
Mouth of the bottle
Making it sing

We parted for but a moment
A thousand years
You have always been mine.

Catching Fire

I stand before it now
Watching this fire
Watch as the flames soar
Higher
Higher

Flashes of my past
Thrown into the fire
Meek girl without a voice
  that curled up broken soul
  shivering and crying
Into the fire she goes
The crackling flames
Burning away woes

Darting eyes
Always fearing being chased
I'll throw those eyes into the flame
Searing with passion I watch
Crimson and blue
Burning away shame

Words from my abuser
Riddled with hate
Tossed into the fire
Sealing his own fate

A naked soul I now stand
Before this flaming glory grand
Feel the heat of the flames
Burn against my skin
Burn new fire into my soul
Feeling the fire within
Passion for the woman
I was meant to become

Into the fire
A girl was thrown
Out of the ashes
A woman was born.

Ashes to Ashes

I wrote it
The words hard to write
I burned it
Watched as the flames
Curled the ends of page
Ashes falling into the sink
Fluorescent kitchen light
Humming in quiet applause

Ashes to ashes
Burning the memory
That threatened to
Overtake me

Heartfelt Prayer

The hardest part of being
A survivor
Is knowing the victim's soul

I once walked her path
I played her roll

She hides
Behind
Tired eyes
Glittery lies
Making a thousand
Excuses

Her own needs
She refuses

She's convinced
Of her own convincing
Blind to
Painful wincing

The only thing I can do
Is refuse to
Listen to
The pretty speech
That masks her
Overwhelming fear

Give her strict advice
Look her in the eye
And simply ask her why

I say a prayer
With her burned in my mind
She's stronger than she knows
I pray there's still time.

*She was 14 when she met him and never looked beyond what he told her.  Now she's pregnant and the baby will come to start a premature life.  She's fighting to know what this all means; a mother and a wife.  But as I was talking to her I noticed her hand rubbing her pregnant belly.  Motherly instinct and fire behind her tired eyes.  Her sweet head nodded in agreement during our unspoken conversation.  I see her and she well knows I know.  She's locking this somewhere in the back of her mind for future reference.  If not to ask me, then to at least remember there are survivors and she can make a way.  Right now she won't take anyone's advice but she's planning, nonetheless. 

Her voice remained low, because the baby can hear her.  Calming deep breaths.  It's in the eyes, if you ever want to know.  A stormy sea of raging emotions and thoughts that just can't be swept clean.  She talked an awful lot about the career she gave up.  Her passion is burning.  There's hope, yet.

Baby Shower Blues

She made all the excuses
    wrapped them up in pretty
        pink ribbon
            confetti spilling about

Fear lingered behind her
    naïve
        wide eyes
And I thought she was
    going to cry

It's hard to explain the
    conversation we had
        with words that were
            never spoken

A nod of my head
    letting her know
        I know her story
            all too well

21
    with a baby on the way

When asked point blank
    what she loved most about
        her husband

She simply could not say.

Call To Action

I left them in a
Dusty little corner
In the silent recesses of
My cerebral memory
Never wanting to explain
I waged my war and thought
All is done
My war is won

For the 2-dimensioal soul
This may be true
But I
Being the deepest thinker
Know
The wars of life come
In unexpected waves
Forcing us to stand up
Just as we begin
To settle in.

I Get It From Him

He'd change the subject
Or you'd hear his tinkling laughter
As he told the story
Of how his
Deranged
Lunatic
Brother
Nearly killed him
With a machete

"It was easy.
I knew he was
nearly blind without
those coke-bottle
glasses of his.
So I took my last
good whack
making sure his
glasses fell in the dirt."

He had a thousand friends
And that is no lie
They never knew
The troubles he
Went through
They only heard
His laughter
Or gave their
Heated "Rah - Rah!"
With his favored
Politicky talk

He liked his
Coffee and his
News radio
Cat on his lap
Skimmin' through
The Sunday paper


*My Dad would be so proud.  Only a few close friends know the meaty details of my life, thus far.  Laughter and poetry is what I hope all others see.

Tear it Down

I was glad  they tore it down
That farm house that
Held no fond memories

Even as a child
I could feel the
Heavy air
Of silent screams
Bitter anger
Just barely
Holding it's awful tongue
Dark shadows lingering
Where only laughter
Should be

The only bright room in that house
Was the one room
We were not allowed

I learned to walk
On that
Runway-like side walk
Grandparents
Didn't even notice

So when I had
The chance to see
What secrets that room held
In a dream
With the house rebuilt
I said no

The past is
Not worth revisiting.

No Easy Way

The easy way would be to fall right back into some heartless relationship - or worst - an abusive relationship.  It's so easy.  I have been surrounded by dysfunction my whole life.  I know it like the back of my hand.  What I don't completely know, is a normal relationship.  Just what is normal, anyway? I'm far from normal.  I talk to myself as I write my poems and laugh at my own outrageous jokes.  To me, that's completely normal.  But I'm straying from my original post's point, here, so let me gather you in again.  Survivors must be very careful not to fall into the pattern that nearly killed them in the first place.  "Known" seems comfortable but it's the unknown we should seek.  There is no easy way.  It's work.  Work is good, though, if you're willing to find out who you are and what you like.  You all ready know what you don't like in a relationship.  At least that part is done and over with.  So.  Take a deep breath.  Relax.  Find out who you really are and enjoy the journey.  Time does heal. 

Street Light Silver Lining

Veil of mist
Kissing dew-covered pavement
The moon casually sleeping
under her cold blanket of night
     hiding her light
Only a fluorescent glow
Lights this neighborly
Sleepy row
Shades drawn
Iridescent, frosty sheen
     covering the window pane
Through the aluminum slats
On plastered walls
The message came

My street light silver lining.

Shadowed Life

Where does it start?
Where's the big
beginning?

Flashes of
Temporary beauty
Genuine smiles I see
floating my way.
Unordinary hello's
that grab my attention.
Heartfelt hugs
that tear down
defenses.
Warm conversations
on a cold wintry night.

These things
I treasure most
But gone in a flash
My snapshot life
Making me wonder.

Am I fading into the
Shadows
Or are the shadows
Blending
Into me?

Introverted Me

Quiet
Until I know you
And even then
I weigh my words
Not wanting to sound
Absurd

Observing
A chaotic world
That demands
To be heard
Waifs
Commanding the scene
With their obscene

Introverted dinosaur
In an extroverted land

Am I extinct?
Only the introvert
Would quietly ask-
Where am I?
One may never tell.