Be prepared because tonight I may get too personal or too explicit. Today is the day I confess a dark secret of mine. Not because I think the world needs to know my pain or what I’ve been through. Nor is it because I need some sort of self-gratification. I just want the truth to be told because I am happy now. It was a long road to happy but I’m here now and it is good.When I was growing up I would wash my hands excessively because I needed to get the “dirty” off. I always felt so unclean and dirty like a worthless piece of trash. Why? Because I was told that I was for a very long time by the woman my childhood hero “loved”. Meaning my dad’s girlfriend.
You see one time she (she being my dad’s gal pal) caught me and her daughter playing adult-like games in the bedroom. I was six at the time and her daughter was eight or nine. I remember my dad’s girlfriend being so angry with me that she made me wash my hands for at least an hour. And then she started calling my mother all these horrible names because no mother would raise her child to touch other girls like that at such a young age. She would tell me that my mom was negligent for allowing me to be so poorly behaved.
The thing is, these “games” would go on all the time behind closes doors. And I hated it. It haunted me for years. I never told my dad because I was scared that he would find me repulsive too and that I would no longer be his little girl. Or worse, I thought that he would leave his girlfriend. Why is that worse? Because when you are a kid and your parents go through a sad divorce all you ever want is for them to be happy again.
Years after my dad died I confronted his girlfriend and she denied all of it. She said I was confused because I lost my dad at such a young age. She said that grief must have clouded the truth and that her daughter would never do such things.
It was hard for me to hear. I was angry, hurt, confused, among so many other things. Until one day I decided that I don’t want that piece of my childhood to define who I am or what I want to be, I needed to admit the truth and not be ashamed. I was molested. That is so hard to admit but there it is out for everyone to know because I am beautiful and worthy of being loved. I have no shame.
I wrote this poem awhile back during the time I was processing some of this stuff and for the first time I would like to share it. Note that this is not a factual poem only based on a true story.
Sweat drips just below my lip, eyes dart across the room. Am I really alone?
“La, La, La…mmmm…” My hands cover my ears like muffs. Silence The Voice.
Green, blue, purple….black circles everywhere…DOTS!
Closing my lids I try not to see your face just underneath me. The image burns in my head.
With every lesson, with every “game”, you took it all…each time …my control
Knees to my chest, defensive stance or so they say in this hospital for the mental
A beach so beautiful, a place so safe, my escape from you…that’s why they say I’m mental
because I would go there…every time that “game” was played. It was safer to be alone.
Tongue in your mouth…“All the kids do it,” you’d say…I lost it because you stole it…my control
Like a puppet you put your hand inside me….“NO NO No no no” I need the sound of my voice.
Sheets all around us, your sinewy hair sprayed across the pillow…some things never leave your head.
My fingers trace them along the padded wall, as I hum…Dot after Dot.
Somewhere in distance I hear sweet sounds of a string quartet…they’re moving to the music…the DOTs
Sway back and forth Sway…virtual reality, my world. SWAY! Dissociation, delusions…checked in…mental
I run at an even pace barefoot on plush orange grass with a purple sky above me…in my head
I am content…no one and nothing can reach me…I am me Protected and Alone
No extracurricular voices
shadowing in my mind And I have my control.
On my knees, toilet bowl in line of sight, I would heave violently, my way of gaining back control
On tile I would lie knowing I wouldn’t eat for days, and that’s when they’d appear…the dots
Worthless is what I was…that’s what it would say…The Voice
My mom would find me there. Hand over mouth. She deemed me mental…
Hence me being here, aware that no one wants me and knowledge of knowing what is safe…being alone
Hip jabs the ground, chin tucked to my shoulder, fingers play in the puddle of tears sustaining my head
“Make love to me,” I’d say He’d try, but it became predator and prey, Past became Present in my head.
“Shhh…it’s okay,” he’d say kissing my temple, stroking my mane…taking comfortable control
Cradling me gently, wrapped in his arms…I never felt alone
I would count them, and he would hum, they were so small so cute…my fingers traced them…His dots
…I was not enough…He found Her…and I…I…I knew He too thought I was mental
“It’s okay…, It’s Okay…” he’d say….ringing in my ears….His hum…His Voice
There is joy in this sadness, a cure for my Ache…the song of the choir, That Heavenly Voice
When I Sway…That Victorious Right Hand holds me up high…The Word’s Truth is The Belief in my head
I may be eccentric, and considered insane, but Jesus saves me in the end from being fully mental
A love so strong, saves me from myself, with undying trust I surrender what’s left of my control
Midnight Blue so perfect, and undamaged So small So Big…fingers pretend to trace…Heavens Dots
Omnipresent Father…I am Never Alone
Slowing fading into the corners of my mind, The Voice
Carrying me through the sand leading my control, while restoring the broken imagery in my head
The more I know YOU the more they disappear, The dots. YOU heal what was once called mental
I was victim of the “game” Trash Thrown in wind…Now I stand, Valiant, I am not AloneLife happens. Bad things happen. I would know. But the best part of life is that you can overcome all odds. I never thought I could. I had an eating disorder, abusive boyfriends, depression, anger, rejection…but look at me now.
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” ~Isaiah 41:10