You are not alone. I don't know if you're a part of our group or not, but I grew up also abused as a young child and I invite you here,
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where you will meet with other members like yourself and me who can't erase the pain of abuse, and yet, we learn to live as Survivors, not Victims.
I have an entire Folder set aside for my own Poems on Abuse if you would like to visit and receive comfort to know that you are not alone.
I totally identified with your Poem, for, unfortunately, I lived through that Hell and I survived to tell my own story. It brought back painful memories.
I totally identify with this because I have come from abuse all my life. Started as a child; ended with my first husband. I know the face of abuse and it isn't pretty, especially when its black and blue.
There were many hilights in this poem that brought back terrible memories. Real memories that will be my nightmares ~ forever.
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The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long ~ Walt Whitman
I waste not time by buying time. I squander it by always reaching far
beyond my grasp ~ Rod McKuen
Beautiful lines, depicting loneliness to its poetic best! The reason I read this (found it) was on the Reviewing Page and another Reviewer had given it such high hopes and how it magically touched them, that I journeyed here, not to be disappointed in these lonely lines where I still, if I am quiet, can hear the wind howling my own despair.
Oh my gosh ~ you poor thing. I am so sorry. How are you getting along now, Judy? This must be awful for you. I can't imagine or yes I can. It's just that Knock on wood (knocs on head, LOL) I've never broken a body part so that's what I mean by it's hard to imagine, but yikes, on the other hand, I know the pain must really be terrible.
Welcome. I see that you are relatively new to WDC. I am here to return the favor of the portraid you just gave me.
About your Poem here, I had a friend like this. I loved him more than he loved me. We knew one another for 15 years. His friendship alone was enough for me, in my circumstance, we were not lovers. I loved him as a friend, and he loved me as a friend. One day I woke up and guess what? Well, I fell in love with him. My feelings towards him changed, and that made him feel very uncomfortable. So, unfortunately, he decided the best thing to do was to end it entirely.
I was devastated. I should never have crossed that invisible line and fallen in love. It was the first (and last) time ever I regretted love, for it ended the friendship with this man that I had for 15 years.
Your Poem was heart warming and very touching and just reminded me of Chris.
I love this. And, it sure will help me when I get those low, low scores and even worse, when they tell me how bad I was. Well, I just need to develop a thick skin, now, don't I? This was a cute poem, but, in essence, it sure carries a lot of truth in it, too. We all need to realize Meg that we can't please everyone all of the time. We just have to learn to suck it up and move on.
Your Poem will help the next bad Review I get, I just shall remember this . . . and your lines that, what doesn't kill us makes us only stronger.
I hope you heal. I am here to be your friend, to help you through this, when you need someone to cry with, talk to, I am here, for I suffered from abuse since the day I was born up to 34 years old, that's right, from every type of abuse imaginable. I have an entire Folder on Poems of Abuse, dedicated to those nightmarish years.
I am a new friend, and here for you and I understand.
Again, since my husband is also a Social Worker, all this is familiar territory to me. He comes home, finds it hard to detach from a hectic day of watching a child's young life unravel; or watching a husband come to terms with the desparing fact that his young wife no longer recognizes him because she has Alcohol-induced Dementia!
He tries to step away, but he has a Bleeding Heart (you've heard that one) and he takes his patients home with him (in his heart) and finds it hard to let them go, as he knows they are lost, and he wants to "find" them; he knows they are broken and he wants to "fix" them. And he feels less of a Clinician when he fails and they commit suicide and he blames himself when they wanted to die all along and nothing he could have done or said to save them.
It's not easy what you both do, day in, day out, watching the shattering of lives. You also watch it mend, too, and heal in ways that speak miracles.
Not everyone can do what YOU both do! It's not easy being the Guardian over other peoples lives. You see beyond the Charts and Appointments, and you come to realize they are real flesh and blood, and pain and despair, and not a signed, coded statistic. They have tears. They have a shattered life you want to solder.
LIke my husband said, too. Many Social Workers go into this Field to "fix" their own broken lives. My husband is a Recovering Addict himself, and has been Sober for over 20 years. He knows what it feels like first-hand to have your life turned around; to face away from jails, institution, and death! It was snap decision, a life-altering Moment of Clarity and Revelation that Saved his own down spiral.
His patients bond with him because he shares with them the fact that once, like them, his life was headed down the wrong road and it's all about changing the path your're on. Making new choices. Having hope inside a bleak Soul. And, you have to want it for the miracle to reveal itself to you.
As he says: Don't Stop Before the Miracle Happens!
This is beautiful. Only someone like yourself who has witnessed the "miracle" of someone turning their life around could write with such impact and awareness!
My husband Howard is a Social Worker/Lead Clinical Therapist dealing with Abused people (both adult and child and overlapping); mental disorders; substance abuse; and domestic violence. He has seen it all walk through his doors, and each case is unique, each individual handles pain and despair and addiction differently.
Some are quiet; some are boisterous. The ones that are suicidal don't talk about it. They do it. The ones that say they are going to kill themselves, mostly talk and want attention. It's the quiet ones you have to make scream out their stuffed pain before the festering wounds get any deeper. I should know. I am one of them.
My husband can't be my therapist, though he knows he married a woman "with baggage," as I've been abused all of my life until I met him and for the firt time in my life, expeirenced paradise in another human being because, up until I met him, I never thought that was possible. Because I have been so hurt, I bonded with nature and animals and to this day, have very few friends because I have trust issues.
My caretakers (foster parents) abused me; my foster brother abused me; classmates abused me; boyfriends and first husband abused me. Finally, I broke the Chain of Abuse when I married my best friend, my present husband, Howard, who just so happened to be getting his Masters in Social Work when we met 17 years ago. And, like I said, the rest is history.
We were married within the next two years and he can't be my therapist, but what he can do is try to unravel all the pain I have suffered all my life by worhiping the ground I walk on. God sent him to me, to heal the wounds, no doubt. I'd be dead without him today. Or lost, for sure, in some comotose state of recluse.
Thank you for sharing your knowledge of those like me less fortunate in this life.
It made me weep. I grew up an Abused child. It didn't end there. I suffered ten years of physical abuse at the hands of my first husband. I know all the forms and disguises of abuse; I know how to keep it a secret; I know how to bleed the pain out loud. Either way, it has come out in my writing. I've been writing for over 30 years, since the age of 9 when I wrote my first short story called The Skating Rink, when I was spit on as a nine year old little girl by classmates who constantly abused me, why, I don't know. I was little and cute, a little blue-eyed, blonde adopted girl living with foster parents and I was hated the majority of my life and had few friends, even to this day.
Well, you nailed it here, kiddo! Kudos, as if Abuse had a Limelight to shine! It shone here . . .
I'm far from a Traditional Style Poet and I rhyme only intermittently and when it suits me. However, I was attacted to the title and once I arrived at your Poem's Door, well, this Free Verse/Free Style Poet was NOT disappointed.
I have to say your meter and rhyme, as far as structure goes, was flawless, impeccable. Again, this is a compliment coming from a non-traditional like myself who's been writing for over 30 years.
You never faltered or wavered in content, you stuck to the climaxing premise all the way to the end. Bravo!
I saw a great Review on this on the Reviewing Page and that and your Title brought me to witness such amazing talent!
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long ~ Walt Whitman
I waste not time by buying time. I squander it by always reaching far
beyond my grasp ~ Rod McKuen
I join you in this Magical Mystery Tour of life ~ I too am drawn to fairies, unicorns, all that was Fantasy but in our dreams, we wanted so bad to be real!
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ~ gift from Kaya
The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long ~ Walt Whitman
I waste not time by buying time. I squander it by always reaching far
beyond my grasp ~ Rod McKuen
I love your writing; this epic lore of fantasy took on a new twist ~ your own unique tragic lines wept us into dust.
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ~ gift from Kaya
The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long ~ Walt Whitman
I waste not time by buying time. I squander it by always reaching far
beyond my grasp ~ Rod McKuen
I love your style too. These are wonderful lines, drawing the Reader in to drink the nectar of your words. I could feel the "alienness" of the subject ~ of the Darkling Child, the outcast, one of us.
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ~ gift from Kaya
The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long ~ Walt Whitman
I waste not time by buying time. I squander it by always reaching far
beyond my grasp ~ Rod McKuen
I love this too. Being a Free Verse Poet myself, I can tell you this: Free Verse is your Forte. It becomes you. Keep doing it, and I will keep on your Port as a dog to a bone. I'm hungry for stuff like this, don't find it much except in my port and I'm about reading others, not me.
Thanks for this ~ and, ahem, keep it up. Promise?
Susan
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