The last few weeks have been brutal. I know in the very depths of my being that things will get better, but right now they’re just so hard.
SIREN
I stare at the water
It’s aqua waves calling
Inviting to slip under
Into Oblivion
I walk away
From the Sirens call
The blades in my hand
Beckoning tantalyzing
One quick swipe
And freedom
I walk away
From the Sirens call
Through the heart
The silver moonlight
Dances on the thinnest of knives
Kill the heart
That causes all your pain
I walk away
From the Sirens call
I walk away
From the Sirens call
Numb
An emotional lockdown
Fearful
That once the walls crumble
There will be no relief
Sorrow
Runs deep
Permeates my very essence
If I allow myself to feel
The full depths
Would I ever recover
Fear of getting “better”
Of never getting “better”
I’m not sure I could bear
That this is the way
It will always be
Yearning
For a family that doesn’t exist
For what worth have i
If I’m rejected by those
Who share my blood
That nameless ache
Undefinable
Intangible
Pervasive
Both physically
And in my pysche
A part of me
Steadfast
True
Who am I?
Pulled down by the undertow
Staring up at the sun
Unattainable
Sinking fast
Tired of the fight
Can’t keep my head above the water
Current moving down
Way too fast
The salt on my cheeks
Can’t look up up
Overwhelmed by the tide
Way too fast
Drowning in my tears
Can’t breathe
Can’t see beyond the blood
Life drags by
Way too fast
I’ve been struggling with the facts that I stayed in a very abusive relationship with a much older man when I was 15. I stayed until he ended it shortly before my 18th birthday because, as he put it, I got too old. Despite the reassurances of my amazing therapist, Vera, I somehow still feel responsible for staying. Over the holidays, my young teenage self was badly triggered and I spent a solid two weeks, at least, battling the urge to self harm. Angry Dude (another part of me that has separated from the rest) has been bubbling up with rage and the two have been feeding off of each other. I finally let Angry Dude out, with some careful boundaries. NO SELF-HARM!!! Instead, he did some writing. Harsh, angry words at me for going back again and again. Here is his story:
IDIOT
You went back
Again and again
Knowing full well
What was in store
IDIOT
You hungered for
His small mercies
Carfully played
After he used you
Good Girl
My Slut
Positive reinforcement
Being claimed
Being wanted
IDIOT
Was it enough
Was it worth it
The fist in the hair
The violent sex
The beatings
Was it worth it
Going back
Again and again
IDIOT
Not strong enough
To walk away
Though given ample
Opportunity
IDIOT
You let him do things
No one should endure
Just for his approval
Those damning words
That get me every time
Good GIrl
My Slut
IDIOT
How could you not see
The end
How could you think
It would last forever
IDIOT
Did you really think
He wanted YOU?
Claimed
He said
Your heart
Your body
Your mind
Mine
IDIOT
To be so naive
The beatings
The gang rapes
The timeouts in the closet
IDIOT
There was nothing you
Wouldn’t do for him
Nothing you wouldn’t
Let him do
Your innocence
Your dignity
You gave it all up
For what?
A gentle touch
A kind word
Thrown like a bone
To a starving dog
IDIOT
You lost so much
Of yourself
Unable to find
Your true self
Given all up for
A gentle word
A false sense of belonging
IDIOT
How could you not see
What he was doing to you
Using you
Corrupting you
Defiling you
IDIOT
How could you believe
How could you keep
Going back
For more
And more
IDIOT
Now you’re broken
Beyond repair
Vera can’t help fix
The shattered
Remnants
Of your destroyed
Soul
IDIOT
I feel the rain
Cold against my skin
A counterpoint to the tears
Rolling down my cheeks
Thunder crashes
In the skies above
Echoing the tumult
In my heart
Lightning jaggéd
Against the sky
Bright flashes of pain
Reverberating
Through,my soul
Life finally settled into a rhythm. Depressed but surviving. Suicidal ideation just a constant companion, no longer a siren song to be fought with every breath. And then, from out of no where more Flashbacks. Vivid. Flashback doesn’t cover the re-creation my mind puts me through. I can feel his body pinning mine, his hand around my neck, squeezing until I lost consciousness. And coming to only to realize he hadn’t missed a beat.
October 30th. Coming up fast. And the body realizes it. The subconscious mind knows it. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through this. Yes, I survived the reality of it. But reliving it night after night. It wears after a while. My life was a living nightmare after. I don’t want to experience that horror day and night again.
The self harm calls strong. The alcohol and the razors. To numb the pain or watch it bleed out. To surrender to the forces of Darkness and have a moments respite.
Damn my contract for survival and the fact that my word is the only thing I set of myself as having value. Though I’m sure that I could loophole the getting drunk. No I can’t. I’d know my intent, and that’s all that really matters.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
Frustration
Irritation
No pain
To release it
Sadness
Anger
No pain
To release it
No rivulets of
Pain
Beautiful shades
Of crimson
Calming
The fear
The melancholic despair
Living in Pain
With no pain
To release it
