months later

seems i make headway, then read my own blog and freak out a bit

so for now i'm back and gonna try again

i've been reading the Angela Shelton blog: http://bigmouthshelton.blogspot.com/

somehow she helps it seem ok to be vocal
i've tried many of the things she's said
that's how i was able to write the poem

She had this on this week's post
A monument is being built to survivors of abuse. (http://www.irvingstudios.com/reaching_out_america/roa_index.htm)

The monument is huge standing ten feet tall by thirty feet wide and is covered in the bronze handprints of survivors. On the inside of the monument there is room for one million handprints! So trace the outline of your hand and send it to Reaching Out America! On or around the hand then write a message of how you want the world to be for kids or a message of how you feel about abuse.

Then mail it to:
Reaching Out America
37 Bay Park Terrace
Alameda, California
94502

I did it. Somehow, it was one of the most therapeutic things I've done
It's so simple. Sometimes simple is best.
i no longer feel alone...i am part of a community
maybe one i'd rather not have been in
but since i am
i've realized i couldn't be prouder to be associated with survivors
we are awesome people

safe place

a room
wood floors
a rocking chair
no windows
four children wary of one another

coming together
slowly so slowly
i can enter the room now
safe place

we've been in a circle
we've held hands
i've spoken
told them thank you

angry
wee one
sadness
hopeless

thank you young ones for hanging
on the best you knew how
i'm here because of you
thank you thank you thank you

a hand to each soft cheek
a soft loving smile
a sigh
a safe place
inside of me

a reminder for myself

i made it
i survived
im intact
not perfect
but intact

hate

hate hate hate hate hate hate hate
punch them all in the face hard hard hard hard
bloody nose big purple bruises bam bam bam

hate hate hate hate hate hate hate
smash their faces in take that and that and that
unrecognizable features wham wham wham

arms over head pulling down
hide hide hide cry cry cry
roll into a tight ball
no no no no no no no

screammmmmmmmmm
screammmmmmmmm
screammmmmmmm
screammmmmmm
screammmmmm
screammmmm
screammmm
screammm
screamm
scream

more?

there is more. i can't believe i wrote what i wrote. first time. ever. blink. i'm still here. the world didn't end. i'm ok. blink. i feel....okay. this is good. it just is. i still made it.

i still survived. but there is more. some other time perhaps.

what is after surviving? scary thought. i survived for so long i don't know what it is not to survive, but to maybe live. is that what is next?

i really just wish someome would tell me the next step. give me the magic word, step, ritual, thoughts. wonder if i'll ever not want the easy button for this stuff.

angry wants more

angry wants to write now. she wants lots and lots of words. loud and angry words, of course. more and more and ALL CAPS. she wants to make someone hurt -- someone else this time. make them pay and pay big. make their heart bleed with shards of words and actions just like D's did. pay pay PAYPAYPAYPAYPAY

i remember

I remember
hearing the breath
being pressed into the mattress
no words
just hot breath on my cheek
trying to be still
it was horrible
i screamed in my head
HELP ME ... STOP THIS
i didn't know what to do
i laid there
don't move
pretend to be asleep
the movement started
flying to the ceiling
splitting off and talking myself through what was happening
it wasn't that bad it wasn't that bad it wasn't that bad
shhhhhhh
i remember warm wet stuff
a wipe
an adjustment
the weight leaving
feeling colder than i've ever felt before or since
no thoughts
no presence
no body
no mind
blink
nothing

I remember
the next day breakfast was on the table
my family was eating cereal
i went to school
i went to classes
ate lunch
joked with my friends
they didn't notice anything
maybe nothing bad happened
came home
he was there
saying hey
i said hey
i had to sit in the house with him
eat dinner
watch t.v. with him
play cards with him
day after day

I remember
nothing changed
everything changed

I remember
wondering why nobody noticed
how could they notice when i didn't show it
i did show it
i became closed angry quiet unsmiling untouchable distrustful apathetic
i was told i was being mean
not nice
a baby

I remember
not wanting people to touch me
touching hurt and it hurt big time

I remember
other incidents in the bathroom
i hated the bathroom (and still do to this day)
being in the shower and realizing someone else was in the room
hearing sounds
breaths
moans
funny noises
i didn't move
i didn't breath
silence always silence
again, no pain
it wasn't that bad

I remember
waking up many nights with someone standing over my bed
sometimes something happened
sometimes nothing happened (i still wake up in the night and see them standing there)
always ... always silence
always no pain
it wasn't that bad

I remember
i started to believe it was me
i cut
i smoked
i drank
i ate
i thought it was my fault
what was wrong with me
what did i do
why didn't anyone notice
why didn't anyone help
maybe i don't deserve help
it wasn't that bad

I remember
a friend telling me one morning after another incident that we lived in "fucking white utopia" and that nothing bad ever happened in our neighborhood
thinking if nothing bad happened, then what happened to me must not be all that bad
my mind thought that
my body and soul didn't agree
it was that bad

I remember
comparing my situation to everything else i heard
rapes, mutilations, rituals, beatings, pain
that didn't happen to me
must not have been that bad
"fucking utopia" right?
no, no, no, it was that bad

I remember
as i got older
i thought if a guy wanted sex i had to have sex
it wasn't a thought not to
it just was
i didn't like it or dislike it

I remember
the first time i realized i didn't have to
thought i was going to faint
felt a thousand prickles of light on my skin
didn't have sex for 10 years
what a relief

I remember
i never told a soul until i was about 20
it was one statement to a casual friend
the look of horror
the comment of wow
the silence

I remember
i became the silence
i rationalized not saying anything again in every way possible
i didn't want to cause problems in the family
didn't want to cause another to remember her abuse if she didn't (she must have; maybe if I spoke, I could've helped her )
didn't want to be rejected or not believed
so i honored others and ignored myself
i ate more so it wasn't that bad
but it was that bad

I remember
i never said another word
until i was about around 30
a friend who said "I thought so" and nothing else (at least i can't remember any words--were there any?)
again silence, but i think i was the silence this time

I remember
after making myself remember more and more
talking to therapists
hearing that is WAS that bad
bad for me
that this wasn't something that could be compared

I remember
that i finally mentioned it to my mom around 37
her anger toward the perpetrator
her response that she was abused too as a child
her anguished response "Why didn't you tell me?"
my recoil from the question
the three responses in my head
1) why didn't you know -- you were the adult
2) wow, she believed me
3) silence

I remember
feeling guilty for not speaking up sooner
feeling guilty for thinking my life was bad
feeling crazy because i couldn't reconcile knowing something happened with all the messages that all was right in the world
if all was right, why did i feel wrong

I remember
the anger
rage
blackness
hatred
it consumed me
everything i experienced was filtered through it
poison

I remember
i still laughed
i loved to play with kids
they didn't want anything
they certainly weren't silent
i still loved to play
it was heaven to play and pretend and be silly even if the adults made fun of me
i would just whisper "they just don't know how to play"
and giggling

I remember
the day my therapist told me it WAS that bad and it wasn't my fault AND i actually believed her
i remember the pain white-hot-blistering-thought-i-was-going-to-break-into-pieces pain
the tears, torrential, pouring out of me for the years, the child, the pain, the act, the regrets
over and over i said it was that bad it was that bad it was that bad
feeling a release or relief to finally and unequivocably say it WAS that bad
when i was done, not wanting to look at my therapist in the face
she gently said look at me...i couldn't
she gently said look at me...i tried
she sat quietly and i finally looked at her (it was hard!)
she smiled the sweetest smile that i never saw when i shared with others what happened
something broke inside, something that needed to break, something that somehow let me feel okay that i acknowledged what had happened and what it did to me
thinking i am going to be okay

i survived intact

i made it
i survived
im intact
not perfect
but intact