Calmly I offer you
pieces of my heart,
tenderly chosen-
which you accept
with a smile
then toss away,
crumpled.
Just another piece
of unwanted garbage-
for which you spare
no thought.
Archive for March, 2011
I used to be a self-mutilator. I don’t know why that is so hard for me to admit to when I have no problem talking openly about my abuse… it seems silly to me that I can tell someone that I was abused and raped but ignore the effects it had on me. I had over 60 scars on my body from cutting at one time… many of which are completely healed over. I cut for many reasons… mostly to escape the pain that tormented me daily… sometimes to escape the utter numbness that was the only alternative I had to the pain.
Now I seek a healthier alternative… I allow myself to feel the pain and to process the anger. I allow myself to be broken and in that find surcease. I look at my scars now and do not feel shamed by them, rather, I feel honored. Honored that I survived this and I can survive still.
I wish I could snap my fingers and get over this… I wish the world would suddenly make sense. I am haunted by ghosts of my past. Just when I think I am making progress they pop up and frighten me again. I am in the Minotar’s Labrynth stalked by something terrible and unseen. In Medusa’s Lair… with the whispers and hisses at my back that vanish when I turn my head. Constantly seeking a foe I cannot see. How can I possibly defeat my enemy and escape? I fear I will not survive this.
In a torrrid sea of faces
and voices
I cling to you.
Fighting violently
I resist the pull
of my old life…
of lies and pretending
of repression and unspoken violence.
I don’t want this anymore.
I crave peace,
unending.
So today I figtht
so that tomorrow
I may heal.
3-20-11
I gave one sharp cry when I died. You didn’t even notice. You were so busy basking in your glory that I sank below notice even a you drove the knife home. When you cleaved my soul in two I wanted to scream. I wanted my cry to pierce you to your heart and shatter your blessed reality. How nice it would have been to see the horror of your deed marked plainly on your face for all to se as I writhed beneath you in my throes of death. You in your stupor probably mistook my cry for one of pleasure. Filthy creature that you are, so drunk on the exhiliration of conquring me, you never noticed the look of pity. I pity you. Even in my death, even in my agony I pittied you. To the very marrow of my bone I felt sorry for you. What could have driven you to these extreme troughs of misery? You sank into the abyss of mankind and you shall never again rise to the surface. I am sorry for you because even in your act of conquer, Thanatos found you. He found you and instead of taking your life, he took your family, he took your job, he took your respect, he took your calling and left you naked and begging for his skeletal embrace. He will not take your soul. It is a neat little hell you have created for your-self, is it not? You will die in hell as you have lived…
I gave one sharp cry when I died. That cry will echo through your soul forever.
The lioness
stalking
cricling, growling
menacing
biting
tearing, rending
shredding
eating
swallowing up
my soul
and passing
stealthily
into the night.
It is the oldest dance in existence. Hunter and prey. As I walk into your room I recognize the rhythm as the familiar tune blares into my brain.
I am not alarmed. I am not afraid of you. I have come to expect this from you. I love only for one purpose, to fuel your desire, to sate your appetite for dominance. I am meek. I am submissive.
You are a good man, as they all have been and I already have forgiven you for the pain you are about to inflict on me. It’s ok. It’s fine. I know you’ll be gentle if I don’t struggle so I sit here in my self-loathing and let you torment me.
People say we reap what we sow. What seeds have I sewn to reap this harvest of pain and fear? I listen to your words and hear their meaning. I do not despise you, I cannot. you are a good man.
Is it my fault because I am beautiful? Do I pursue beauty because on some subliminal level I desire this maltreatment? Do I feel that I deserve this?
You are a good man. I do not blame you for your torment. You are a good man so it must be me who is wrong. I am the bad one. I am wrong. You are a good man. People look up to you and respect you. you give guidance to them. They depend on you to direct them. You are a good man. My punishment must be just. This is what I am here for here.
Am I wrong because I love you? Am I bad because in spite of your treatment I admire and obey you. Obedience is better than sacrifice. What have I sacrificed in the name of obedience? Where is the line drawn between obedience to a good man and sacrifice of one’s self?
How important is innocence? It encompasses our lives and leads us to misery. The pursuit of wisdom is good… then why does wisdom destroy innocence?
You are a good man…
Talking to my mom today sent me into a tail-spin. I hate that I am so afraid of being “found out” like I am doing something wrong and have something to hide… I hate that just speaking to my family on the phone has the power to make me doubt my past and begin to see it through their eyes. I came from a family of “brush it under the rug”. They are great at pretending that everything is ok and we’re not really broken in the extreme. Most of my life my dad yelled and screamed and belittled all of us and my mom just took it and let us take it.
I remember one night when I was a little girl, my parents had put me to bed. I got up to get a teddy bear off my shelf to sleep with and had curled up in bed and was just drifting off to sleep when my dad burst into my room, angry. He asked me if I had gotten out of bed and I told him I had gotten up to get a bear to sleep with. He asked me if I had left the room and I hadn’t. He then accused me of sneaking out of my room to watch through the cracked door as my brother changed clothes. He was crazy angry and accused me of lieing when I denied this. He beat me with a belt so badly I had whelps from the backs of my knees to the small of my back. He was in a blind rage. My mother came in afterword to ask me if I had done this and I told her the same thing I told my father. She told me it would make things better if I apologized to my father and just said that I had done this thing he accused me of. So I did and my dad pulled me into his lap and hugged me and told me he loved me. I don’t even know why, to this day, he would think I would be watching my brother dress or undress or why it would have been a big deal as we were both very young… I was about 6 and my brother was about 9-10.
When I was a teenager I confronted my parents about this and they both denied the whole thing and told me I must have imagined it. My whole life they have managed to make me feel crazy… Now I just want to live in truth and not brush anything else under the rug. I am through pretending. I long to walk in the sunshine and feel the warmth on my skin. I long to live in truth. I may not be perky and happy all the time, but I am real and alive, and that is so much better to me.
captivatingbitter 
Thoughts on Honest Communication
I think we underestimate the value and the ease of honesty. We over-think things and give simplistic answers because that is what we assume other people want from us. When I ask a question I expect an honest answer – and because of this I only ask questions that I am interested in the answer to. I prefer a life of honesty. I don’t want someone to try to anticipate what they think will be best for me or easier for me to take… I do not believe in “white lies”. I just want to know what is, not what someone thinks should be. I want straight honest answers and honest feed-back. I am so tired of avoiding issues for the sake of not hurting feelings… it is usually more painful in the long run to avoid the immediate pain for the sake of what’s easy.