How would it feel to be loved?
To be unconditionally free?
To be accepted as you are.
To be you in your normalcy?
How would it feel if you didn't have to pretend, hide, escape
To run from who you really are
To fix a mess you didn't make?
How would it feel to be loved?
To not be you anymore?
To be someone better?
Who hoped for more?
How would it feel if you didn't have to psych yourself up.
To try to forget the pain, isolation, the secrets you've kept.
If only reality could be as real as you could be
If only you could stand the possibility of who you can be
321 self destruct
I wish my mind wouldn't but it'll concave
Implode on itself
Miss can you pleases behave?
I face myself, put my hands on her shoulders
If i didn't know better girl you're getting older
older isn't wiser it's more years spent
trying to be that person you always were meant
Failing, hurting, spinning
I can't be here anymore, the depression is winning
I know I'm meant for more and yet I'm stagnant
The beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Fucking blinded
The consistency the persistency of the words on my lips
Is the only thing that's consistent
What if I released those words
And just wrote, felt and hoped
And said fuck the lyrics and the poetry
And just screamed at you what I'm actually feeling
How i can't stand to be myself but now is when I need me more than anyone else
And so I'm hiding this, me, I'm holding me
I'm so blinded with pain i can't see what's right from wrong
Write from wrong
What do you know anyway
Who are you to say that this is me and how i should be
You never put in the work anyway
And everybody hurts and screams
And feels there's no one by their side
But if they'd only look past my blood shot eyes
They'd realize there's me inside
And I don't know who me is and
I can't see who I could be but
Maybe she'll be better than you
And she'll realize
That her family isn't family
And her friends are fake
and her ex fucked that bitch on your first date
And your gut was right but it brings no peace
I told you so lingers on my lips
But there's no one to hear me say it
He, they quit a long time ago
Alone
But fuck that maybe I'm doing great
And maybe all this shit will build me up
Breaking is not an option anymore
When we break we burst
And all I can see is what's right in you and wrong in me
And people that can't handle themselves
or be themselves become their normality
and it's in you and it's in me and i can't see straight
there's so much fucked in my world
i have so much hate
how do talk about what shouldn't be mentioned
That the life you should have has was stolen from you
Alluding to the truth, tip toeing around the issue
Be quiet, behave
How to do you talk about the fact you never had a dad
All you wanted was a human to put you to bed at night
and wanted comfort and love and yet the house was saturated with hate
and it's not you it's them but it doesn't change your nightmares
that was your life
whether he stays or goes doesn't matter to me
because he never will be, never could be, always will be
Nothing to me
Except the force that made me
Showing posts with label sexual assault. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexual assault. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Everyone Else Has An Opinion So Here's Mine
My Facebook is filled with her story, with his.
With opinions both well thought out and others thrown out with emotion.
This post will be thrown out with emotion.
When I first saw the story, about the athlete who was accused of / found guilty of rape (I do not know as I cannot bring myself to read the story but this is what I've pieced together) I didn't know what I was reading.
A friend whose posts I respect and enjoy reading made her status about the injustice of how the case had gone. A sentence or two into it I felt a pain in my chest and I had trouble breathing. I stopped reading.
I closed the page and distracted myself with something mindless.
And I forgot all about it--or well I tried.
But the internet isn't letting me.
This story is everywhere. And while it's great to see this topic being covered it constantly triggers me to have to deal with things I'd rather not think about. My own experiences with rape and sexual abuse.
And while everyone else has an opinion and can voice their thoughts, I find that this story has silenced and paralyzed me. Well, until now.
Too painful to think about at work, and too scary to delve into on my own at home the thoughts of my past have been preying on my subconscious since I first began to read about her story.
I didn't think it was affecting me until I had a panic attack at the gym yesterday.
I was doing squats in front of the mirror and I see the guy to my left stretching his groin feet away from me. I feel uncomfortable so I turn away trying to stay present. Then the guy behind me begins to go to town on the punching bag. His muscles flexing, his testosterone flowing, grunting, he hits the bag harder.
The two story warehouse gym closes in on me. My heart races. My hands shake. I struggle to stay present.
"They cannot win. They cannot win. I will not stop my workout because I am triggered," I tell myself. "I've given too much of my life to my attackers and they will not ruin this for me." I say trying to be brave, thinking I'm doing what's right and noble.
But the more I try to be brave and make myself sit in an environment that has become threatening the harder it is to control my breath and my mind.
To my right a bodybuilder begins to deadlift with an angry force. Jerking the bar up and down. Slamming the weights.
The noise reverberates in my head and I have had enough attacks to realize when one is about to happen. I need to get out of here, but I am frozen. I am surrounded by things that feel threatening to me, how do I move when I am trapped?
The urge to run turns into an impulse. I turn up my music and I book it to the bathroom. I keep my head down. No longer able to control my tears, my body screaming to go to safety.
I bang open the bathroom door almost taking someone out. I muffle an apology and slam the stall door shut, I put my back against the wall, sink to the floor and curl up into a ball.
Make me smaller, let me implode, let me escape.
And I stay like this for I don't know how long, trying to steady my breath and stay in the room even though my brain throws memories violently to the forefront.
It's not fair I think. It's not fair. The gym has become a place of recovery for me where I find myself feeling confident getting stronger mentally and physically but ironically it's also a source of powerful memories from a past I'd rather leave there.
The cold floor helps me mellow. I ask myself simple questions like where was I born and what did I have for lunch that day. And I distract myself until I am calm.
I avoid men as much as I can for the rest of my workout and I forget about this until today when I scroll through Facebook. There it is again. And again.
And I go back to the avoidance and the distracting.
Everyone has had a voice in this, and I wanted to put mine in. While the victim is being very strong (from what I've gathered she's written a powerful letter to her attacker and probably spoken out as this is getting so much attention) and this story creating much needed attention to a serious issue it is also causing me a lot of pain.
Everyone's opinion is out there about this story and this topic but I hadn't seen my perspective voiced and felt a need to, as I usually do when I write.
I don't know what most people have had to go through that have been posting their opinions about this so I could be completely off base but I feel jealous of all of you who can feel stronger by this story. I feel jealous that you can read these stories without having the reaction that I do. My past haunts me constantly and lately it's been brought to the forefront and I'm having a hard time coping.
I can usually ignore it and forget that those things happened but not when there's reminders everywhere. And I'm just angry, and sad, and frustrated that this is a part of my life and who I am and always will be. And I can just hope that maybe one day I can read these stories and feel empowered but I'm just not there yet. Just another perspective to think about.
With opinions both well thought out and others thrown out with emotion.
This post will be thrown out with emotion.
When I first saw the story, about the athlete who was accused of / found guilty of rape (I do not know as I cannot bring myself to read the story but this is what I've pieced together) I didn't know what I was reading.
A friend whose posts I respect and enjoy reading made her status about the injustice of how the case had gone. A sentence or two into it I felt a pain in my chest and I had trouble breathing. I stopped reading.
I closed the page and distracted myself with something mindless.
And I forgot all about it--or well I tried.
But the internet isn't letting me.
This story is everywhere. And while it's great to see this topic being covered it constantly triggers me to have to deal with things I'd rather not think about. My own experiences with rape and sexual abuse.
And while everyone else has an opinion and can voice their thoughts, I find that this story has silenced and paralyzed me. Well, until now.
Too painful to think about at work, and too scary to delve into on my own at home the thoughts of my past have been preying on my subconscious since I first began to read about her story.
I didn't think it was affecting me until I had a panic attack at the gym yesterday.
I was doing squats in front of the mirror and I see the guy to my left stretching his groin feet away from me. I feel uncomfortable so I turn away trying to stay present. Then the guy behind me begins to go to town on the punching bag. His muscles flexing, his testosterone flowing, grunting, he hits the bag harder.
The two story warehouse gym closes in on me. My heart races. My hands shake. I struggle to stay present.
"They cannot win. They cannot win. I will not stop my workout because I am triggered," I tell myself. "I've given too much of my life to my attackers and they will not ruin this for me." I say trying to be brave, thinking I'm doing what's right and noble.
But the more I try to be brave and make myself sit in an environment that has become threatening the harder it is to control my breath and my mind.
To my right a bodybuilder begins to deadlift with an angry force. Jerking the bar up and down. Slamming the weights.
The noise reverberates in my head and I have had enough attacks to realize when one is about to happen. I need to get out of here, but I am frozen. I am surrounded by things that feel threatening to me, how do I move when I am trapped?
The urge to run turns into an impulse. I turn up my music and I book it to the bathroom. I keep my head down. No longer able to control my tears, my body screaming to go to safety.
I bang open the bathroom door almost taking someone out. I muffle an apology and slam the stall door shut, I put my back against the wall, sink to the floor and curl up into a ball.
Make me smaller, let me implode, let me escape.
And I stay like this for I don't know how long, trying to steady my breath and stay in the room even though my brain throws memories violently to the forefront.
It's not fair I think. It's not fair. The gym has become a place of recovery for me where I find myself feeling confident getting stronger mentally and physically but ironically it's also a source of powerful memories from a past I'd rather leave there.
The cold floor helps me mellow. I ask myself simple questions like where was I born and what did I have for lunch that day. And I distract myself until I am calm.
I avoid men as much as I can for the rest of my workout and I forget about this until today when I scroll through Facebook. There it is again. And again.
And I go back to the avoidance and the distracting.
Everyone has had a voice in this, and I wanted to put mine in. While the victim is being very strong (from what I've gathered she's written a powerful letter to her attacker and probably spoken out as this is getting so much attention) and this story creating much needed attention to a serious issue it is also causing me a lot of pain.
Everyone's opinion is out there about this story and this topic but I hadn't seen my perspective voiced and felt a need to, as I usually do when I write.
I don't know what most people have had to go through that have been posting their opinions about this so I could be completely off base but I feel jealous of all of you who can feel stronger by this story. I feel jealous that you can read these stories without having the reaction that I do. My past haunts me constantly and lately it's been brought to the forefront and I'm having a hard time coping.
I can usually ignore it and forget that those things happened but not when there's reminders everywhere. And I'm just angry, and sad, and frustrated that this is a part of my life and who I am and always will be. And I can just hope that maybe one day I can read these stories and feel empowered but I'm just not there yet. Just another perspective to think about.
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