Sunlight
streaming like rain
filtering through the trees
kissing my face like a lover
….breathless….
Tag Archive: being real
Days like today are hard…
reeling from loss and hurt
on my way to joy, but the journey
withers my heart sometimes… I
need the night sky, the wind
in my hair… the
naked fingers of moonlight
gently stroking my skin…
I need to feel alive…
No other way to
swim in these currents of grief
only by surviving, striving,
rambling my way to joy
ramshackle though it may be.
One day this shadow will lessen…
will give way to the light.
I am watching the day die slowly
As the cicadas and frogs
Begin to sing loudly
Drowning out the sounds
Of the city around me
And the light fades to
Gold, then gray…
Enriching the colors
Then draining them…
I feel the heat of the
Fading day against
My skin…somehow
Comforting and not
Oppressing despite the
Lack of a breeze.
I feel so alone, yet
Somehow not lonely,
My mind reaching
Into the silence, searching
For You….Hoping to find
Myself… at last.
She sat quietly in class
Never hearing a word-
Her mind screaming,
Racing, ravaging her thoughts…
She sat calmly, pen in hand;
Honor student….horror filled
And anguished.
Automatically, she made conversation…
She passed tests
She chatted with friends
And longed to die
To escape this pain…
She sat quietly in church
Longing for salvation
Imprisoned by religion
Preached at by her tormentors
Looking for horns
Disguised as halos.
She sat quietly at home
And smiled at the monsters
While cutting the pain
Of her soul out of her skin…
Watching the blood ooze and
Drip…with dry eyes
And emotionless face
Hiding the raging terror
In her heart.
She sat quietly in the therapist’s chair
Giving reassurances to the one
Who was supposed to help –
Praying they see
Behind her stillness
To the utter turmoil within
Not trusting anyone or anything…
Somehow comforting them
For her pain
And living with the hopelessness
That almost felt like a friend.
She stood quietly in the bathroom…
Staring at her calm face
Unwilling to meet her own gaze,
Unable to keep avoiding the horror…
The pain ravaging her from inside
And without warning-
Almost in slow motion
The avalanche began…
All the silence broke
The tears came in a torrent,
The rage, the pain…
The still, quiet girl is gone
Replaced with a woman
With a face full of anguish
Unable to sit quietly any longer –
Not willing to still her face
For the comfort of strangers
Haunted and crumbling
Shattered
Shuttering violently with each
Invasive
Intrusive
Memory.
Stumbling and falling
All along the path
To be whole.
Who mourns the death of a tyrant? Do you mourn the loss of the person who caused you unimaginable pain? I recently found out that my mother died. Apparently she died back in May. I didn’t know how to feel… mostly because I kept waiting to feel all the things you are supposed to feel when your mother dies… I kept waiting for tears, for mourning, for pain, for confusion… What I mostly felt was … relief. The world felt a little safer to me… Don’t get me wrong, I felt pain… but it was largely the pain of my life…of every time I was abused, neglected, insulted, criticized, misunderstood, raped, hit… The pain of everything she could have been but wasn’t.
It feels scandalous to say out loud that I was relieved when I found out my mother died…but that is the ugly truth of it. I wonder if everyone that is abused feels the same… is this a truth that we all just don’t say out loud? We face polite society and cower in the face of judgement from others. I did. Honestly, I have been judged my entire life. I have lived in pain all my life and been judged for saying I hurt… been judged harshly for saying what you did hurt me… I have been flat out told that I had no reason to hurt. When I confronted my parents with the truth of my pain I was ignored, told that there was nothing wrong with me… when I asked for therapy I was told I don’t need it… I was told over and over that in so many ways that I was crazy…. So now…when I know she is gone – I feel relieved…. I feel like there is one less person trying to gaslight me. One less narcissist to go around pretending like we had this perfect little family.
I will not remain silent… I have been quiet for years – I backed into the shadows… This has brought me back into the light… this had made me feel a little safer in the world, a little more at home. The world with one less monster in it feels like a better world to live in… a safer place for my heart, my memories, my thoughts, my anger, fear, pain, triumph, hope…. safer for me.
I felt for the last several years like I just wanted to hide from everyone, from my past, from the world at large… learning about my mother’s death makes me feel invited back out into the sun…. I belong here. I am not going anywhere and just because the truth makes people uncomfortable doesn’t mean that I will ever stop speaking it and putting it out there. I realized that me shutting up doesn’t protect me – it just makes the monsters more comfortable and that is not the way I want to live anymore.
So…. I am accepting the invitation. I am going to walk in the sun and tell the truth and put my heart back out there… hiding it was not protecting my heart – it was only protecting their reputation… So here I am. In pain, broken, hurt, angry – but full of hope and enjoying the sunlight and not afraid of my own heart anymore.
I’ve got that feeling again… the buzzing of angry bees in my chest. I wonder sometimes how long this struggle with anxiety will last? Will I carry this with me always? Will I ever get to the place where I can feel safe and at home in my own skin? What battle am I fighting today that I feel this way? When do I get to rest? I feel like I have been fighting one battle or another since the day I was born. I guess we all are in some form or fashion. I long for peace. I long for comfort… I long to feel. I have been numb for far too long. I guess I am finally learning where the bees come from… those angry bees that swarm in my chest and make it hard to breathe. I think they are all the emotions I have refused to let myself feel. Now to loose the bees and regain some measure of peace I am choosing to feel all the painful things that I would not (or could not) feel. I am crying and raging and curling up in a ball and allowing myself to feel small and vulnerable… I am fighting for me. I will win.
captivatingbitter 