This may better explain;
I began writing a few things down on paper in 1999. It was not until 2009 I wrote all of this poetry. I am not a poet by any means, it is just how all the pain chose to come out of me at the time. I never read what I write, it scares me. I do however try to date it so I will eventually be able to develop a time-line for myself. Stupid I guess but it is true. I finally found the password to the blog I began in 2008. All that you have read so far is mostly the stuff I wrote down on paper in the interim. I have a need to go public so I am in the process of catching up with what I have already expressed.
I have had a heavy heart most of my life. I am here to right the wrongs. I do not know if this is something I was born with or if it came to fruition after I had been raped at the age of Two and Three and so on.
I remember thinking, "I do not have to remember everything they are saying, I must keep my eyes open and remember everything they are doing".
This actually was a complicated task, as whenever they made my bottles, they would put these drops in before anything else. From what I thought was a small glass tincture jar (this is all looking back with what I have now, a more adult and educated view to express what I am seeing inside of my mind). I remember them saying, "one, two, three? do you think that's going to be enough this time?" "No, do more, at least nine or ten. We don't want her to talk".
I hated closing my eyes, you never knew what would happen. I used to see lots of colors, like dreaming in Tye-dye or being inside of a kaleidoscope. It used to make me feel sick inside. All the banging and the pounding. It seemed to come from both inside and outside all at once.
Its weird when you look back and realize that you were really hurt. Bleeding everywhere and always sore. I never knew what to do, they, my family, would always say, "You dirty girl, you make us behave like this! Stop! spreading your legs". This was kind of difficult since I used to be put into a metal brace. I was severely pigeon-toed. I used to scream, then they just goo'ed this stuff all over me and left. This was always done in my bed at night.
The past year of 2008 my eldest brother said this, "you know you were molested?", "you know they used to put shit in your bottle". I answered by looking straight at him, "I have never forgotten". He was silent. Thanking goodness for small favors he spoke no more on the subject.
Its strange how years after the fact he said this to me. Almost as if it was a news flash. Good thing I never forgot personally because what he said out of the blue may have been to much of a shock for me to take. It could have sent me into a mind-set that I may have never recovered from. It kind of did anyway. It is after this incident that I really started to write anything down. He seemed purposeful in his attack. I am exact in mine.
I have written this book of poetic verse, it seems to be the only way that the horrors will come out of me. The flow of this novel will be tough for you to read. However I have found it to be a graceful release of my mind, from the nightmares and horrors I survived as a child.
I do not want pity. I do not want you to feel ill about any of it. I just want to exist somewhere, someplace where I am not told "get over it", "shut-up", "everyone has a bad life". I do not want to be an ugly stain, a throttled voice or a beaten soul. I want to heal, if at all possible, I want closure for my life of such horrors and traumas.
I have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A team of good-hearted souls has surrounded me, supporting me in this endeavor. You may find that this book sucks your mind into a place of disbelief. It's meant to do just that. I want you to know my life has been surreal. Sadly the events really took place.
I hope that every poem speaks to you. I hope that through my writings I am able to show you healing through perseverance not fear. I hope for you to know that I believe you. Bad things do happen. Survivors do exist today, they only continue to do what they do best, survive.
This is to all the ones that nobody believed. Here is to your own personal healing. Here is to all the tomorrows that we have not experienced. Here is to the heart of all the ones that did not make it through. I know you! I hear your cries! I know your pain! I feel your sorrow. I feel your spirit. I see your Faith that continues to believe that somebody will survive and tell the story in such a way that we can all heal together dead or alive. Healing from only one verse.
To the magic of the blessed lives lost. To the magic of the blessed lives saved. To the magic of the simple verse. To the magic of true words. To the magic of nothing lost, only gained. To the magic of all of you. To the magic of a mysterious life, Mine! Thank you for believing. Thank you for being there. From me to each of you, thank you!
P.S. Just a note.
It is not that the poems make sense to you in the beginning. It is what they say to you and how you use what they have said in your own life. You may find these ramblings say nothing. You may relate in such a way it becomes paralyzing. I wrote this for my mind. I want to have this get off of my heart. So this may go everywhere, it may go nowhere, but, at least it went somewhere for me. Now I know that no matter how much pain I exist in daily, I am not a dirty girl. I was born, I survived and I want to learn to live free and happily. I want to learn love. In the end, I would like to learn how to be me or be myself around all of you naturally, without the embarrassment of myself daily.