Time

3 years!
3 years!
Time
Time
Time
Marching
Rapping
Her beat
Enough of
The sorrow
For old crows
To feast
Watching the
Tick
Tock
Clock
Waiting
To be
Unleashed
Enough is enough
I'm sick of the
Sorrow & stuff
Wallowing in
Despair
Taking steps back
Another layer of my soul
To repair
Wake me up
When it's all done
I want to dance
Play in the sun

*Time is only an illusion.  A man-made perception.  3 yrs to our mortal count, but right now time is passing quickly.  I wrote this poem to highlight how most survivors feel.  We all want to hurry up the process of healing.  That cannot be done.  Not if you're going to heal correctly.  Take this time to get to know you.  You'll be dancing before you know it.

Tiny Tot Wisdom

He was playing, watching me getting ready this morning.  Doing his normal 3 yr old thing.  I made a comment about the day; something completely nonessential.  He turned to me and said "I love you.  And I'm so proud of you."  I nearly cried.  I think the earth stopped spinning on her axis for a fraction of a second.  I picked him up and kissed his sweet, chubby cheeks and told him how much I loved him.  When I said thank you, he shrugged his skinny little shoulders, smiled and said "It's true."

My boy never ceases to amaze me.  I am learning so much from him. 

Strength

Do not ever call yourself weak.  Ever.  The very fact that you survived abuse means you are stronger than anyone can possibly imagine.  Your iron will to survive and become the person you were meant to be is strength defined.  You'll have your moments.  We all do.  You'll keep going, though.  Not because you don't have a choice.  Because you want to.  Not everyone will understand.  That's ok.  Rest assured, there will be always be at least one person willing to listen.  Talk and let it all out.  By doing so, your strength will continue to grow.  So when the dark days come (and they surely will), you'll have a stable foundation. 

To The Ones Still In It..Gathering Courage To Leave

This is how it's going to happen.  He will do or say the one thing that will ignite your soul.  It will come unexpectedly even though you've been expecting it all along.  All your well-laid out plans will come as an insignificance.  In fact, you'll forget out the plan and just focus on getting out.  You'll go to that friend's house and swallow your pride as you ask for help.  They'll be glad to offer you temporary solace so don't worry about being their burden.  Remember.  You were isolated from them and now is their one big chance to help you in the greatest way they can.  Let them.  Or you'll go to a family member's house.  Go.  Don't think about the details just yet.  Getting out is important.  What if you don't have that friend or family member?  Then take yourself to that women's shelter.  You're smart and very resourceful.  I'm giving you a hint, here.  Do your damn homework.  Find a list of women's shelters if you think you might need one.  I've been to one.  Solely for counseling purposes.  The beauty of it is that you will be surrounded by women in your similar situation.  Free counseling.  A warm bed.  Resources to help you find a job and re-establish your finances.  They will give you clothing if you have to escape with just the clothes on your back.  Free food.  This is no time to be proud.  Pride will kill you.  And then pray.  Pray like you've never done before.  Cry.  Like you've never cried before.  Talk.  You have a voice and your soul is hurting.  The pain needs to be released.  Write a letter detailing all the hurt and then burn it.  No.  You do not need him.  No.  You are not going back.  Yes.  You are strong, beautiful, and intelligent.  You deserve a life free of pain caused by a heartless person who only likes to watch you suffer.  Your life depends on this one, great, important decision.  Go.  Leave.  And don't ever look back.
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Learning to Love

I look in the mirror
And I'm so proud
Of who I see
A beautiful woman
With the promise of
The future
Stretched out before her
My first task was
To love myself
And baby
I do
My knight in
Shining armor
Cannot find me
If I cannot find myself
Far better for me to
Appreciate him
When I can appreciate
Myself
I'm learning to love
The old fashion way
Love myself first
Before I ever decide
To give my heart away.

Noticing Changes

He comes later to pick him up and drops him off earlier each time.  Through it all, he has a well rehearsed lie.  I hear it and I see it in his eyes.  The change he can no longer hide.  The thing about me, I learned at a very young age to notice things.  Being an introvert in an extroverted household wasn't always easy, but it sure taught me a lot.  When I stand back and stand quiet, the real persona of the person hiding behind the mask is revealed.  It's only a matter of time.  Change has been slow in the making but it's happening.  I feel stronger everyday. 

Compare Not

I did a terrible thing.  I read the stories of survivors and compared my story with theirs.  I actually thought "My story isn't nearly as tragic." Oh.  But it is.  The sexual abuse I still cannot speak or write about.  The verbal abuse that lingers in my head like a black monster in my head on my darkest days.  The emotional torment that played tricks on my psyche.  The constant anxiety of never being good enough no matter what I did.  The threat of what was to come if I didn't succumb.  Feeling absolutely numb.  The isolation from friends and family.  The mask of complete happiness when deep down I was dying a little more everyday.  The loss of my own inner voice.  Add it all up and it's pretty tragic.  His words punched me.  He got his actual punch in the physical form and that was the last time.  The one and only time.  But what about the times he got in my face screaming at me, calling me bitch and a whore?  Or the countless times he shoved me against the wall?  Or how about the time he purposely broke something I absolutely treasured?  Getting in my face when I needed my personal space?  The money he stole.  It can't be recovered.  It's on the street corner like a crack whore, now.  And just what about those countless times I did actually succumb?  Coming away from it all feeling like a used, cheap prostitute.  His idea of romance was telling me to perform oral sex on him or "You will regret you were ever born."  That.  That I resisted.  And I paid.  My soul came away bruised.  Oh, and the countless lies.  Or maybe his absolute truth of telling me he would bring "other women in" to "show me."  I never felt like a woman around him.  I felt like a child begging.  Which is why I still find it rather difficult and strange to say "please" and "thank you." 

No.  Do not compare.  Abuse is abuse and it's tragic, no matter how it's played out.  I find the punch is the easiest for me to forget.  The verbal much more difficult to maneuver around.  The intense threats that came at a moment's notice.  Always catching me off guard, which was his whole idea.  Keep me under wraps.  The good thing is that I didn't play submissive very well.  It just isn't in my nature, no matter what anyone might think.  I was born with a mouth and I used it.  But that's the thing, it was always a fight.  An extreme confrontation.  He knew I would do anything to avoid confrontation and that I would be the one to apologize first just to keep the peace.  There was no peace.  Peace found me the night I left with my baby in tow.  Even then, I knew I was entering into the biggest battle of my life.  God, but I still have my writing.  My poetry.  My soul's diary.  I vowed to remain brutally honest with myself.  Thank God.  It has saved me.