Nothing is ever what it seems…
Unapologetic,
There once was a time when I lay,
Deep seeded,
Draped in trauma,
Laying in a pool of mistrust,
Scars that burned to the bone,
Depression subsides,
Anxious notions spiral,
Anger creeps from within,
A veil of flames erupt overhead,
The voices repeat,
Falling over one another,
Drowning in a torrent of vile spit,
Spinning out of control,
Standing alone in the mist,
Silence is deafeningly painful,
Ears desperately covered,
Begging for the voices to leave,
Just one night...one night,
Let me sleep,
Without the gruelling sweats,
Internal screaming and crippling tears,
Fighting from deep within,
Immune systems turn against,
The battle ensues,
Internal conflict manifests,
Looking just ahead frantically,
Blackness cloaks my vision,
I dream one day,
To see again...
I didn’t ask for this ,
I didn’t hold up a sign,
We get distracted under your spell,
I was told “boys are only mean when they like you”,
Even more promiscuous,
Surrendering in life,
Magical fantasies,
Midnight destination,
Dragged,
Words that cut like daggers,
Threats,
A grip that would penetrate my soul for years to come,
Letting go,
If I just stop resisting,
Tears float effortlessly to the floor,
Just waiting for it to end,
Run,
Lie to yourself,
It never happened,
Fuck that! Turn, fight, be angry girl!
This is when the winds shifted,
Spells reignited,
Beliefs deconstructed,
It wasn’t how I understood it anymore,
Potent energy pulled together,
Breaking an archaic return,
Female consent dominating,
Warrior,
The complex queen of seduction,
Empowering,
Honesty, bleeding into the carpet,
No longer apologetic,
Gaze transfixed on the full moon,
New intentions,
Letting go,
Hands wrapped,
The rules have shifted
Fighters stance,
Returning back to the bones,
That led me home...
——————————————————————————————
A glimpse into the recovery and transformation as the layers of PTSD are healed one day at a time from past damage done due to sexual assault and abusive/toxic relationships. I don’t really find I have the words to structure into full blown sentences around these, but without knowing (until mid last year) I have been drawing my trauma. My own art therapy, without even realising until 2.5 years later that I was buried deep in my own recovery, alongside therapy.
The poems (if you can call them that, I don’t know?) are sounds bites of feelings, emotions and visualisations I have built upon on my road to healing. Everyone takes their own time, journey and therapy styles to recover from trauma. There is no right or wrong. Mine has been over a long period, it wasn’t chosen that’s for sure, but everyday get’s better.
There are still moments when it’s incredibly hard, but through lessons learned, therapy and guidance things have changed. I have changed.
I feel this poem and image (however, morbid you might perceive), visualise empowerment, strength, transformation, self-love, confidence and an inner creative glow. Those feelings of guilt, shame, embarrassment, sadness, anger and unworthiness have slowly filtered away as I learn to manage depression and anxiety. Just one day at a time, reminding myself to breath, be in the present moment and “not forget who I once was before the world told me who I should be”...XX
