I was crumpled up on the bedroom floor;
holding my belly and crying out "Dear God. How much more?"
It's the inner, tangled war I rarely discuss. It turns all my gold
to rust. My psychosomatic anomaly - where my insides look back
at me like I'm the enemy. My intestines twist and tangle - creating a
painful strangle. Every harsh word and every traumatic event seeped
way down deep. My body's most trusted self defense during a time
when nothing made sense; contract, relax, pull, twist, stretch, block,
pain, pain, pain, numb. My outer half walks on freely; relishing the
air and sun. My inner half still wonders and prepares itself - making
ready before any war has begun. It's so like a child that's been beat down.
Intestines crumble in - ready at any given moment for a new trauma to begin.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Quiescent Soul
She's fought so hard
Day in
Day out
Long into the night
screaming soul
quiet shout
Out of the battle
Having survived the
death rattle
Tired
So tired
Mending deepest wounds
Her eyes now close
sleeping soothe
The worst now over
A soul to now relax
stretch in plush clover
Having pushed past
the nightmares
& anxious flares
Sun on forehead
warming cares
She whispers in her sleep to me
"We survived"
Soul of my soul
No longer half
Now whole
Day in
Day out
Long into the night
screaming soul
quiet shout
Out of the battle
Having survived the
death rattle
Tired
So tired
Mending deepest wounds
Her eyes now close
sleeping soothe
The worst now over
A soul to now relax
stretch in plush clover
Having pushed past
the nightmares
& anxious flares
Sun on forehead
warming cares
She whispers in her sleep to me
"We survived"
Soul of my soul
No longer half
Now whole
What Domestic Violence Didn't Do
Domestic violence didn't break me. In fact, it did quite the opposite - it forced me to look within myself more to view what I had once seen as broken pieces of me and learn to love those pieces.
Domestic violence made me love myself again. Odd to say, but it's true. I was so invisible before. Now, I'm this person that freely discusses hard ass issues with ease. Self-care became a mode of survival when the hardest symptoms of PTSD first hit. Now, I perform self-care with such ease. I no longer make excuses for it or feel the need to explain. If I need to distance myself from all forms of life for a while, I do it and gladly (not for long, of course. My friends wouldn't stand for it).
Domestic violence did not take away my trust in other people. And by people, I mean men. The harshest comments I received when I first left my abuser, came from other women. Likewise, the kindest acts of generosity came from men. I have a trust in myself that cannot be taken away. I've been given the sublime opportunity to survive the most traumatic event in my life and now I have the tools necessary to go further than I ever imagined. I know all the subtle signs of domestic violence and all of the non-verbal signs that most take for granted. I learned that trusting and loving is an inside job and it starts with me. How the hell can I love or trust anyone if I don't love and trust myself?
Domestic violence did not take my ability to forgive. I forgive myself first. The rest is a process. I have a narcissistic mother that battles her own demons every single day but I do forgive her. She says some of the most hurtful things that simply are not worth repeating. My sweet Dad taught me the art of forgiveness. He came from a family that made me often wonder how he even survived. His own brother attempted to kill him with a machete when they were teenagers. Later, my Dad would tell us that story and he'd always laugh. "My dumb brother...God love him. I knocked his glasses off and he was as blind as a bat. He never tried it again, I'll tell you that." My Dad had a grace about him that I now model. And my Dad's brother? Adored him for forgiving him. My Dad's father was the most abusive soul that I ever met in my entire life. My Dad never let that become an excuse for his own failure. In fact, he simply moved on quietly and graciously and became one of the most respected plumber / pipefitters in his field. He was always looking out on the bright horizon. The harsh words of his father could've torn him down easily but he never let the words settle too deep. His soul remained a bright beacon of courage and strength.
Domestic violence did not take away my hope. It's hard being a single mother. The statistics of my financial success as a single mother are stacked against me but that does not obliterate my hope. My hopes and dreams are slowly coming into fruition of my new reality. I am extending myself further than I ever extended myself before and I'm always looking for ways to improve myself. Hope is my seed that I plant and my thoughts of my own success is the water that is making that seed grow.
Domestic violence made me love myself again. Odd to say, but it's true. I was so invisible before. Now, I'm this person that freely discusses hard ass issues with ease. Self-care became a mode of survival when the hardest symptoms of PTSD first hit. Now, I perform self-care with such ease. I no longer make excuses for it or feel the need to explain. If I need to distance myself from all forms of life for a while, I do it and gladly (not for long, of course. My friends wouldn't stand for it).
Domestic violence did not take away my trust in other people. And by people, I mean men. The harshest comments I received when I first left my abuser, came from other women. Likewise, the kindest acts of generosity came from men. I have a trust in myself that cannot be taken away. I've been given the sublime opportunity to survive the most traumatic event in my life and now I have the tools necessary to go further than I ever imagined. I know all the subtle signs of domestic violence and all of the non-verbal signs that most take for granted. I learned that trusting and loving is an inside job and it starts with me. How the hell can I love or trust anyone if I don't love and trust myself?
Domestic violence did not take my ability to forgive. I forgive myself first. The rest is a process. I have a narcissistic mother that battles her own demons every single day but I do forgive her. She says some of the most hurtful things that simply are not worth repeating. My sweet Dad taught me the art of forgiveness. He came from a family that made me often wonder how he even survived. His own brother attempted to kill him with a machete when they were teenagers. Later, my Dad would tell us that story and he'd always laugh. "My dumb brother...God love him. I knocked his glasses off and he was as blind as a bat. He never tried it again, I'll tell you that." My Dad had a grace about him that I now model. And my Dad's brother? Adored him for forgiving him. My Dad's father was the most abusive soul that I ever met in my entire life. My Dad never let that become an excuse for his own failure. In fact, he simply moved on quietly and graciously and became one of the most respected plumber / pipefitters in his field. He was always looking out on the bright horizon. The harsh words of his father could've torn him down easily but he never let the words settle too deep. His soul remained a bright beacon of courage and strength.
Domestic violence did not take away my hope. It's hard being a single mother. The statistics of my financial success as a single mother are stacked against me but that does not obliterate my hope. My hopes and dreams are slowly coming into fruition of my new reality. I am extending myself further than I ever extended myself before and I'm always looking for ways to improve myself. Hope is my seed that I plant and my thoughts of my own success is the water that is making that seed grow.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Friday, August 14, 2015
They want, they want...
They want me to write pretty
It's so damn ugly
"Just paint something to make
the readers see the light."
Meanwhile
the narcissist
is still showing
gloating
in all his might
It's a fucked up
never ending fight
I'm getting tired
The appease
The pretty please
To paint Hell
in pretty colors
as the darkness
swallows the
pastel colors
faster than a firestorm
It's far from the
comfortable norm
It's violence
lurking down the street
in the midnight silence
It's abuse
of a soul
shattered
scrambling after leaving
to find the new meaning
of
"whole"
It's so damn ugly
"Just paint something to make
the readers see the light."
Meanwhile
the narcissist
is still showing
gloating
in all his might
It's a fucked up
never ending fight
I'm getting tired
The appease
The pretty please
To paint Hell
in pretty colors
as the darkness
swallows the
pastel colors
faster than a firestorm
It's far from the
comfortable norm
It's violence
lurking down the street
in the midnight silence
It's abuse
of a soul
shattered
scrambling after leaving
to find the new meaning
of
"whole"
Tired Foe
He pushed and pushed
Words and fists
Thumping his chest
Telling me he was the best
I always stayed quiet
Never letting him in
On my inner thoughts
My sacred ground
Years and years
Push
Push
Push
Waiting for me to fall
Waiting for my final crush
Most girls played with dolls
Pixie posies
I studied General Patton
How he won the war
How he never let the enemy
See him keep score
Surprise attack
Sitting straight
My unbroken back
All the pain
All the worry
He can have it all back
Words and fists
Thumping his chest
Telling me he was the best
I always stayed quiet
Never letting him in
On my inner thoughts
My sacred ground
Years and years
Push
Push
Push
Waiting for me to fall
Waiting for my final crush
Most girls played with dolls
Pixie posies
I studied General Patton
How he won the war
How he never let the enemy
See him keep score
Surprise attack
Sitting straight
My unbroken back
All the pain
All the worry
He can have it all back
These Days
These days
I'm going on
& on
Numb
like the
perfect drone
Swollen eye lids
watching the world
pass me by
Sleep
Eat
Work
Sleep
My baby asks me
"Mommy can we play?"
I go through the motions
allowing the childish notions
My car begs me
"Fill me with oil"
Blasted
Never ending toil
My family asks me
"What's wrong with you?"
As I sit and
silently stew
My heart asks me
"When are you gonna stop worrying?"
mitral flap fluttering
slow doubt flurrying
Slow motion run
Slower than normal
reach for my six-shooting gun
Fingers clutching
Fingerprints remember touching
Dimmest light
in the black
moonless
night
A spark of hope
Enough for me to cope
I'm going on
& on
Numb
like the
perfect drone
Swollen eye lids
watching the world
pass me by
Sleep
Eat
Work
Sleep
My baby asks me
"Mommy can we play?"
I go through the motions
allowing the childish notions
My car begs me
"Fill me with oil"
Blasted
Never ending toil
My family asks me
"What's wrong with you?"
As I sit and
silently stew
My heart asks me
"When are you gonna stop worrying?"
mitral flap fluttering
slow doubt flurrying
Slow motion run
Slower than normal
reach for my six-shooting gun
Fingers clutching
Fingerprints remember touching
Dimmest light
in the black
moonless
night
A spark of hope
Enough for me to cope
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)