This is me.
Do not grab. Do not squeeze. Do not poke-hit-caress-pinch-touch or otherwise inhabit.
Do not coerce. Do not drug. Do not demean – belittle – dehumanize.
You saw. You took. You threw away. And then you haunted – terrified – terrorized and did it again
and again
and over
and over
until I could no longer tell or desire or individuate or even breathe in –
my own skin could. Not. Burden. My. Shame.
Things have shifted.
I will not look over my shoulder. I will not wake up screaming at 2 am.
I will not exfoliate my thighs clean from your filthy hands.
I will not starve-eat-cut-drug-work-sex-run-hide-freeeeeeeeeeeeeeze
And I will not take your blame
any
more.
This is me.
Do not touch.
These knuckles aren’t bloody from punching my pillow.
I can relate. I rarely comment here, but I must say that this one hit me hard. I am happy now, but the scars are still deep. Certain things take me back. Thank you for your truths. ?
I remember, Susan, that you have had similar experiences. Much love to you, dear friend.
The last line hits the nail on the head with a power-driven 75-pound sledge hammer.
I understand.
It was a difficult and easy one to write. Weird how that works.
Holy cow. This vibrates my very being. The strength, the…. damned FORCEFUL REJECTION of the past and its effects, the choice to no longer allow all of that to be on control – I am stuttering, trying to find the right words. Language is so hard.
Language IS so hard. It’s a slow process, finding a way to express myself. The woman with the fist in the picture–she is certainly new to me.
Being a parent has helped in that area–the thought of having to fight for a child is easy. For myself its hard–but I can say with surety-I am more protective of my soul today, and it doesn’t take long for me to get to that place of foreceful rejection…
And thank you for your words.
It reminded me of how far Ive come… and how far I have to go
Thank you for sharing. I have far to go myself. Some days are better than others. Much love to you on your journey.