My Child: The Wound
The last year has been filled with a lot of change for me and I have most definitely struggled to manage the pain from these changes in this season of my life. Last night I was going through workbooks and psychology on healing when I realized that the majority of my life has been spent learning why other people act the way they do and trying to adjust to navigating them. The technical term is people pleasing, which is a trait I am well aware I have: people pleasing protected me from the multiple waves of abuse I suffered as a child. Last night, for perhaps the first time, I went on to do a little research on why I react to life the way I do. I did not get far before the thoughts flowed and a filled out three pages of my reactions to life, why I react the way I do, and what significant event from my childhood is the trigger for those reactions. In therapy, I refer to these moments as epiphanies, because they are so deeply profound to me and are pivot points in my personality. I finish off my marathon self-therapy session and go to bed having a vivid dream about reconciliation and acceptance. This morning I woke up and after a few hours felt two poems growing inside me. I haven’t edited these poems -in any significant way, they are raw, and emotional, and are directed at me as a child. The goal of this website is to provide a platform for not only myself to express who I am, but for others who are suffering to find the courage to seek acceptance within themselves. There is an act of underdefined courage in facing abuse and choosing to define the abuse rather than the abuse defining you. Hopefully, through my words, anyone reading this can also find the courage that they always had and harness it for themselves.
In pain my child cried out,
Someone help, me?
Someone soothe, me?
Someone hold, me?
Alone in the night.
In the dark my child cried
No one held him!
No one soothed him!
No one helped him!
Tears staining the hardwood floor.
Wounded as a tiger gashed in the side:
My child grew.
Fearful of all around him
Wary of those who would be close:
Lest they disappear when needed
Hating himself.
My child, now a man
Drifting listlessly amongst the sea.
Sails tattered and battered.
Hull pierced and taking on water.
No savior on the horizon.
