Tag: trauma

Find the Gift

I struggle with perseverating on traumas both ancient and recent.

I know my mind is searching for a way to protect me, though in doing so it binds me tightly to the experiences that seem to scald me.

I used to want to sever my ties to the subjects I perseverated on, to ablate the neurons in my brain that remembered the most painful moments and thought the most disturbing ideas.

Now I know that every challenging experience holds within it a gift, the lotus seed within the mud.

I invite you to try this: recall a traumatic memory, and ask yourself what lesson can be gleaned from it.

For example, in remembering the times my body has been violated, may I be reminded that I am worthy of respect and healthy boundaries.

In linking trauma to sacred life lessons, you will transform the uncomfortable memory into a powerful tool to heal yourself.

The traumatic memory may remain searing lifelong, however you will hold the gift in the palm of your hand and therefore be able to use it to create the life you want, starting with feeling better right here, right now.

When I do this I feel peaceful, hopeful, and at ease.

May you always find the gifts you need to soothe your heart, mind, body, and spirit.

A Tale of Two Titties

My tits used to be ornamental, fruit of my tree

Now they serve a purpose greater than me

I breastfeed my baby night and day

Engorged and heavy, my tits now sway

Leaky Lefty has an easy flow

Old Faithful, the right breast, is steady and slow

Faithful humbly carried the load when Lefty was out of commission due to a painful combination of mastitis and a blocked milk duct

My breasts lost their perkiness and youthful appeal long ago

Before the rise of services such as Only Fans, for which they could have raked in riches, I’m told

I’ve worked a lot harder for a lot lower wages

Putting aside all rampages, I bow my head in gratitude for my body, my baby, and my reproductive freedom

High Wire

Every time I write, I play with fire

I know it is just a matter of time before my luck expires

When you find these words there will be hell to pay for what I didn’t say to your face

The dicks I didn’t count, the stories I didn’t recount to you.

After all I have given, how can you think I owe you anything but grace?

Yet I step out again on this high wire, reeling over the mire

You are all up in my business, yet have no business of your own

I warn you: if you mess with me enough, you will be the one without a home

Stop trying to squeeze me dry

With love and patience, it’ll all be yours in time

Push

My husband pushes me with prodding questions about my sexual history

It enrages him that I don’t display the intimate details of my past like trinkets at a flea market

He pries with jealous tones in his voice

He has nothing better to do than ‘solve the riddle’ of how many men have slept with me

I tell him the truth; I don’t know

I don’t tell him why there were too many to count. Early abuse trained me to be sex-trafficked, I was overworked and undersold

There are experiences in my life that I didn’t ask for

Uninvited guests who ruined my party

I have been violated more times than I’d care to tell

I don’t want to relive that hell

He is undeserving of such personal and painful information

His prying unlocks in me that deep dark, that suicidality that was once my constant companion

Standing face to face again, it is clear how much I have healed over time, and yet

I understand why ending my life is a natural conclusion

To take back my body, reclaim my flesh as my own

To liberate myself at last from the unbearable physical memories he invokes with his dredging interrogation

He cannot fathom the damage he causes

We end this round shouting

I dread and prepare for the inevitable; the next time he broaches the topic

When he demands out of the blue that I recap the worst moments of my life, I feel energetically destroyed

I start to count the cars on that long train of trauma and feel like a trapped animal, desperate for a way out

My old friend suicidality extends a hand, ‘I am here for you, when you feel pushed.’

He and She

He

He drugged her and got her drunk

He did things to her she’ll never forget

I wonder if he’d regret it if he could fathom the depths of the wound he inflicted so easily

She

She started to cut herself to release the pain

She smoked, swallowed and sniffed but could never escape for long enough

Does he ever think back to that night and wonder how she must have felt to be violated

Does he ever imagine the horrors rippling through her body still?

Does he see the selfishness and the cruelty of his actions?

She overdosed last month

She was revived in time

She is still alive

Tears flow from her eyes

She comes to me for relief

I hold space for her grief

I cannot undo the wound or the crisis which ensued

I can only offer a new way for her to view her pain today

The struggle is real

She will feel how she feels

But in harming herself she only perpetuates his actions against her

Together we form a plan that will allow her wound to heal

Cortisol

This cortisol currency you pillage out of me from depths unseen

Cannot mean as much to you as it means to me

Your hands remain empty as I am depleted

You are the storm-maker but I will not be defeated

I’m recycling my resources

Your hot air will run its course

I will hold steady

So go ahead, shake my tree

I have plenty of cortisol, from depths unseen

Enough for you and for me

Hard to Break

I am human, with a messy human body and mind

I don’t intend to hurt anyone, yet I have a habit of leaving a trail of broken hearts behind me

I’m gifted at making people feel loved and special

I celebrate their strengths and passions

I serve up what everybody craves

When I cease to deliver their fix, they protest that I’ve misbehaved

I’m trying to shake this old survival skill that used to protect me but now makes me ill

I’m trying to garner new abilities, but ancient habits are hard to break when they are built into your anatomy

Too Much

Are you upset because you feel that you gave too much, darling?

Too much love and affection, only to end in rejection?

Too much energy and time, too much of your body and mind, did you spend too many of your dimes?

Too many gifts, too many kisses?

You were too much for me

I risked my life for you, with every imposed act of unprotected sex

Your arms were prison bars to me, your body was a wall I couldn’t make fall

Finally free with the help of geography, I set to work separating you from me

I told you so many times that your love was toxic for me

You cared only for yourself, I was an object on your shelf

We both gave up the chance to be with dozens of other lovers

I gave you the best years of my life and you riddled them with strife

I thank you for all of that, even though being trapped in an unhealthy relationship damn near killed me

You were my drinking buddy and my drunk enemy

You never kept the peace for long

A loud grievance about how the world did you wrong was perpetually erupting

Despite the fact that you were a spoiled, silver spoon over-fed blond haired, blue-eyed white American male

Honey, your complaining is still ringing in my ears

You gave me the time of my life, never after

Our friends went out of their way to keep us apart because the damage we caused each other was so painful for them to watch

Our approaches to life are opposite

I ask what I can give

You ask what you can take

No wonder you were so fond of me

You want without end

I could never satisfy you

I am at peace now, and I wish the same for you

I no longer feel torn by my simultaneous love and loathing for you

I feel only grateful to have survived our relationship

It was almost too much

Unlikely Pair

‘Why is a pretty girl like you talking to a guy like me?’ he asked.

I told him truthfully, ‘You are the guy in front of me right now.’

Sensing his mistrust, I elaborated:

I’ve been chewed up and spit out, tumbled round and all about, fumbled and dropped the ball, felt smaller than no one at all.

I’ve been kicked around and smacked down, fallen hard in every town, pulled by the undertow

Where I’ll land, nobody knows

I’ve been chomped, gnashed and lashed out, and finally washed up on your shore

What more are you looking for?