Tag Archives: Childhood trauma

In plain sight

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I stand there before You,
aching for Your
love.

Your affection.

Your approval.

i can’t believe after all this time,
You’ve
never looked at me.

in my pig tails and patent leather
shoes
,
standing in the doorway
wistful and willing.

but You cannot see me.

for i am hiding behind the wallpaper
where all
little girls hide,
the ones who survived.

layers upon layers cover me
redecorated as
years pass,
yet i remain forever unchanged.

frozen in time
beneath this woman
veneer.
waiting and hoping,
will you take me home?


Of Mice and Monsters

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When I was a child and had a nightmare, right at the point where I knew the monster would “get”me, I thought it better to try to befriend the creäture.

I believed in doing so, this may spare me from being devoured.  I kept the authentic me, hidden from the monster.  The façade of being its friend, enabled me to survive those long wretched nights.

My childhood was riddled with nightmares.  Sadly during my days, I was hunted by the profane personified.

My nocturnal brain wiring to cope with the unacceptable.

~~~~~~~

The first indication I had that he may have been a monster, was the night he asked me to kneel naked in the porcelain tub.   He told me this would be fun.

I complied.

He stood naked next to me.   I waited for what seemed a long time.    I looked up at him.   Still waiting.   Wondering.    Then…..

Right as I asked,” what are we doing?”  He urinated in my face; right at my mouth.

He erupted into peels of laughter, over and over again watching me as I spit and grimaced.

I don’t think I have ever tasted anything so acrid in all my life.  I hope I never will.

When he could see that I was angry for what he had done, he apologized.  I knew it was fake but accepted it anyway.

My acceptance of his fake apology was perhaps the beginning of my courtship,  with a real-life monster.  One so dark and empty, I could have never imagined.

 

 


Woman-girl

When I was only eight years old I remember walking around the neighborhood just before dark. I would peer into the homes just around suppertime. I could smell wonderful things cooking as they wafted through the air. I would occasionally stop and see a family sitting down to eat through their front window. I’d stop and stand there, eyes transfixed. “Could this be what a family is like?” I thought. They seemed so peaceful, happy even, smiling as they ate together. There was no belt on their kitchen table. They’re allowed to talk during dinner.

To be loved, I wanted that so badly……. that it actually ached inside my little chest.

I knew I wasn’t cute enough, smart enough, or good enough. I held fast to the idea that one of my teachers might “see” how badly I wanted rescuing from my home. If I just was nice enough, they might take me home in their back pocket and give me a new life. But…. that never did happen.

No one ever knew the shit that went on in my house behind the picket white fence.

Months turned to years and my fantasy of finding a “home”,  someone to adopt
me and rescue me from the hellish existence took on new form. As I entered
womanhood, I stumbled rather curiously into my own untapped potential of
sexuality.

However sex to became a perversion, a remnant of my past, that I wanted
to stay buried. Wreckage of painful childhood memories, its unspeakable trauma and hidden scars, left sexuality for me inexplicably fused with terror.

Men looked at me and seemingly wanted me or so I thought. The opportunity for love came rushing to the forefront again. But I was a quick study and inherently knew, they didn’t want me, but what was between my legs. And so began a deep-seated anger. I resented men. For I wanted their love, their affection and they only wanted sex.

Sex; used to hurt me as a child.
Used as a game, a weapon, to exploit me, humiliate me,  abuse me
.

How on earth would I ever find a home now? The broken child trapped inside still in search of love and safety she never found. How on earth I pondered would I ever find my way there now?

I hated my body, it had betrayed me.

I hated myself for being such an unlovable damaged piece of shit.  Twisted dreams of going home, that shouldn’t exist any longer.  Is there a place for the woman-girl I am?

My dream of finding love, of finding home seemed as elusive as it ever had before, and fading fast….