Barrier of Shame

Shame stopped me talking about what I wanted in therapy today. I couldn’t tell him the details swimming around my mind. I’m a little frustrated with myself and upset at this deep feeling, which is proving to be a very real barrier, more so than ever before.

 

How do you tell?

How do you explain?

That secret inside

submerged in shame.

 

When you want it out,

but your walls are high

protecting your humiliation

and the encompassing pain

 

She wanted to confide in him

the darkness concealed there

to disclose that nightmare

buried in the depths.

 

But by telling that truth

she would be exposed

naked, vulnerable

forced to share the stain.

 

Who wants to hear this?

To hear her explain?

The long kept secrets

Submerging her in shame.

 

Hidden

Sensing it’s there

waiting for me,

but knowing not what

not where, or when

What will return?

I await with trepidation

 

I thirst for the answers

and for the truth

locked up tight inside.

My spirit is yearning

for the freedom there.

Tentatively I wait.

 

I’m weary now,

come now with haste,

reveal to me what I seek.

For now just a dream,

of no new revelations

of the day I will find peace. 

 

Forever No

Written in a moment of anger earlier today, it has taken me some courage to share.

*Trigger Warning*

 

Didn’t you hear?

though it wasn’t verbal,

oh believe, it was clear.

If you had bothered to look

if you had given a shit,

you would have seen.

It was in her recoil,

at each and every flinch.

Undeniable, in that empty stare.

 

Few protests passed her lips

yet it was there all along

screaming and pleading

if you had simply tuned in.

In rehearsed response

in robotic movement

lay her refusal.

Waiting for you to notice

desperate for you to care.

 

A neon sign would be futile

for no matter what she did,

self was your only concern.

Just a toy for amusement

as if she wasn’t real.

But here it is crystal now

(though you still won’t hear)

It was and it is

A Forever No

 

A war inside

In a budding mind,

the war began.

The years drew on

the conflict enduring.

Neither triumphant nor defeated.

 

The host suffers

their constant battles,

desperate for a surrender.

Yet battles are won,

neither side is conceding.

 

Callous and stubborn

in their refusal to cease,

the war is still raging.

The future is uncertain,

but only one can be victorious.

 

“Circle of Trust”

It’s all been poetry on this blog lately, I find it helpful to express myself in that way. I’m not sure I’m any good at it, but it comes right from the heart. Sometimes when I am unable to write or talk about the experiences I had, the poetry provides a much needed outlet.

I am unable at the moment, to blog about “my story” as such, yet I’m at the point in my journey where I need to talk about it. I need to talk about what happened, how I dealt with it, my regrets, my guilt, my pain, my anger etc. It’s what I want to do and need to do, but I remain unable to do that here.

At one point, when I began my journey there was just one trusted individual, my best friend. Since then the “circle of trust” has slowly started to widen. Though there are quite a few others who are now aware of my past, those I trust with parts of my story are few, for now at least. Apart from my “besty”, there’s my T (of course), my husband, one of my brothers and my Minister. One day, I hope to be more open with all those in my life and even beyond, but for now I see this as good progress, this time last year only one person knew.

There are many worries about trusting someone new, what details to tell them and trying to work out if I’m sharing too much. I know these things are not easy to listen to, I worry endlessly about over sharing with those already in the “circle of trust” so the thought of widening to include others, is daunting.

I’m afraid of rejection, I fear hurting or triggering others, I am afraid of gossip and twisting of the truth. I fear I won’t be believed, I fear being called an attention seeker. I fear a lot of things.

My biggest fear can be debilitating. I am deeply afraid that some how it will get back to the person who caused all this. The town I am from isn’t all that big, people are connected, it may be unlikely, but I cannot risk him finding out anything about me. I do not want to be back on his radar. I must feel safe at all costs.  The fear is so real and so great it makes me paranoid and obsessive, it makes me want to never utter a word to anyone ever again. Telling means fighting that feeling and it is not easy. The idea of expanding the circle to include more worry and fear, is not an attractive one.

So for now, my circle of trust remains small. I will work on pushing past the worries I have with those individuals I do trust.  I want to be more comfortable (if that is the appropriate word) with talking about my past, I do not want it to control me. These are my experiences, my memories, mine. I want control back. Releasing the memories is helping with that. I hope to get a little braver and post here about it one day, but today is not that day.

An Angel (on the ceiling)

There’s an angel on the ceiling.

Her heavenly voice,

singing sweetly, gently coaxing,

her  invitation almost hypnotic.

 

Charmed, I rise to greet her

abandoning the shell beneath

But foolishly, I do not desist to look upon

my punishment is etched on my soul

 

Jealous, she demands my focus

I award her with my gaze

for below awaits fiery depths

above she rewards me with peace.

 

And though I am still afflicted

no longer am I alone here,

for there’s an angel on the ceiling

one I will never resist.