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Freeing The Prisoner in My Mind: Part 1

Thank you to Nisha (not her real name) for writing a 3 part blog and choosing to share her journey in the hope that it would help other people subjected to sexual abuse.

*Please note that the blog may trigger in parts. Practice good self-care when reading it and also know that it is okay to choose not to read it. If you do need support because you are triggered please speak to a person or organisation that you trust.*

Everyone has lessons they have learnt through life experiences. I know how incredibly valuable it can be to share this knowledge with others in similar situations. My journey to healing started with RSVP and it has taught me so much which I will forever be grateful for. So here I am today, sharing my journey with you all in the hope it helps in some way.

Part 1: Accepting help

It’s 2009. It had been 7 years since the incident. Hmmm “incident”… I question if that’s the right word. It’s almost like I don’t want to link the words ‘I’ and ‘abuse’ together. After all, I had carefully swept all that under the carpet in the hope for it to never surface again.

After giving birth to my first child I started to feel low. Outbursts of tears, feelings of tension and anger in parts of my body, unexplained mood swings and sleepless nights. Where was this hurt coming from I questioned myself. Maybe I was going through postnatal depression? With time spent indoors during maternity leave and watching daytime TV, there had been triggers that brought back old unwanted memories. I could still feel the weight of his body holding me down, making me feel trapped with no control. I could still remember the glance I’d seen of myself that night in the mirror, the look of let-down staring back at me. The image of blood on my sheets was still stained in my mind. I knew I needed help but overwhelming feeling crept in. The noise from the traffic of thoughts made it harder to make sense of anything. It seemed self-harm was my only form of release.

Luckily I was pointed in the direction of RSVP whom I had some counselling sessions with. The initial contact with them was a nerve-racking moment. A part of me felt embarrassed and silly. I mean, maybe I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion? Maybe I was wasting RSVP’s time? Maybe they could be helping someone else who had been in a worse situation than me who really needed the support? But deep-down I knew something didn’t feel right and I had to trust the journey. The months during the counselling were a difficult time of my life but all the staff at RSVP were reassuring, kind and supportive. From the one-to-one counselling sessions to the social groups, RSVP supported me in a way that no one else ever had. I was able to let out my emotions knowing I was in a safe place. I was now able to make sense of my thoughts and I could see there was light at the end of the tunnel.

I knew I needed to deal with this trauma and this was the way forward for me. I couldn’t file it away in the cabinet of my mind anymore. I needed to process it and empty the trash. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but I had to face it at some point. I knew to reach my goal of being free meant putting in the hard work. I knew I’d experience some pain but this time I wouldn’t be alone.

I’d have the support of RSVP.

– Nisha

More Snow

Thank you to Ann for sending through her second poem about snow. It’s really powerful.

I used to like it lay its cloak,

Felt safe around me,

Nothing broke,

Nothing shattered,

Nothing lost

No nightmares where my brain 

was tossed.

Serene and silent,

Quiet and quaint

People sparkling,

Glittered paint.

On every treetop,shrub and rock,

It spread itself

With sugared swirl,

THEN,I was

Always “Daddy’s girl”.

BUT NOW,

NOW, Darth Vader

Comes in white

He cracks and snaps

Throughout the night,

Then LIES

Serene

and vacuum-still,

His brightness stuns the room until

He grips with claws

My frozen jaws,

Shakes my bones

and shreds my skin.

how could I let this

Bastard in?

Snow

Thank you Ann for sending in this poem.

It bites,

Its raw,

It moves my floor,

It steals my feet

My life and more.

It makes me score

What hurt? What dirt?

How much? how deep?

Never,ever sleep

The same again.

Over all my world

It Dominates.

When whiteness lies

I’m cut to size

I’m curled in fear-

arm over ear,

Terrified by the Power,

Anyhow,anytime,

Every hour

but most in darkness.

Rocking now,

Holding brow,

When its over me

I’m small and tiny,

“Mini-me”

Can’t stop 

The drop 

to Hell.

Falling ,falling, 

Not like rain

On my face-

splattered pane.

Whiteness,

Void, but 

Nothing’s free,

There’s always price 

to pay

for Whiteness-

Freedom’s gone

Away.

Galleons

Thank you to Ann for submitting this poem.

From the mist

Sails a Pirate ship.

To Blast you from the water,

Ruin life with your daughter,

Your son, your wife …. Your

Life.

Turn you outside in,

Don’t ever think you’ll win,

It won’t ever go away,

You know, that

Living death,

Black spot,

Rifled, shot,

Feel insane?

It’s in your brain

Tricking you

That ‘then’ is ‘now’,

“Poor cow”,

locked in at night,

sealed by fright,

Your bones will turn to dust.

Because you cannot trust

even You.

But….

Grab that boat

And crash it down.

Slash its sails and

Watch it drown.

Unfurl your sails

And sally forth,

You own the sea,

The sky, the Earth,

You’ve owned it

Since you had your birth.

They stole life from you.

Your right to be

A happy galleon

Sailing free.

In your shoes,

They’d have sunken

Long before

You made the journey

Back to shore.

Command the Ocean,

Dare them drown,

Own your peace

Erase your frown.

Be proud of you,

Be proud of me,

Together

We make RSVP.

Triggers

Thank you to Ann for sending us this poem about triggers. Anything can be a trigger, and it can be hard to navigate the world knowing you might be painfully triggered.

You can be “alright”,

Actually “fine”,

I mean

Actually present,

Actually there,

Do I dare

to say

“OK”?…….

It hits,

You’re gun shot

that quick!

The needles stick,

The walls hit

That slick!

The fog descends,

Under the blanket

You wrestle to regain

Pain –

Control

From bleeding out

Your heart.

It’s futile,

You’re immobile

You choke and splutter

Stutter, mutter, it

Traps you,

Flaps you.

Try in vain

To regain

“You”,

Without this pain.

Then, after time,

Shaft of light,

A branch,

A twig,

A stepping stone

To somewhere bright.

A foothold

Up towards the light.

A hand to grab

A tool to stab

The bastard trigger

Dead.

Then, breathless,

Plaster on,

Carry on,

You struggle back

to being “You”             ,

but know the score,

the gunshot bore,

the gaping hole,

Scarred but

Double hard,

You’ll know it next time,

More control,

Smaller hole

In your head.

In your heart

You start

Again

To fit the mould.

Halt the cold,

The ice –

incise

Shard,

Steely hard

Knife

That stabs

Your life.

You have to beat it,

Melt it out,

Burn the sucker

Have no doubt.

Regain control,

Ignore the blip

You mustn’t

ever let

“You” slip.

Looking Back, Looking Forward

Lisa has written the following piece after a therapy session, it is something that she’s been thinking about a lot. She reflects on how therapy is proving to be very helpful and that despite still having bad days she feels she is getting stronger every day. Thank you Lisa for your powerful words, we are certain that they will speak to many survivors.

***

For most of my life I’ve largely blocked out my past, been too anxious to enjoy the present and feared the future. But over the past 4 years whilst undergoing counselling, going through the experience of reporting the abuse, attending court and giving my evidence and receiving psychotherapy for post trauma stress, I’ve had to face my past, present and future. It’s been terrifying, heartbreaking, hard, empowering, liberating and surreal in equal measure.

The reality I’ve learnt is that I have to look back to have any chance of enjoying the present and having the future I hope for.

Through my therapy I now know that my past has controlled me for as long as I can remember. Every decision and every step has origins in the abuse I suffered as a child. My no self worth led me to accept things I should have known were not good enough, my fear and anxiety stopped me from being spontaneous and taking any risks, the emotional and physical scars caused me a lifetime of pain and disability.

Blocking out the abuse meant I accepted years of loneliness, disappointments and sadness because I believed that’s all I deserved. Each day my expectations were low – I kept them low because I was used to life that way and I learnt that if I expected the least then if anything happened that was good, that would be a bonus.

I see now I thought controlling everything meant nothing bad would ever happen to me again. The truth is I suspended my life…not in time but definitely in living. I was scared to live because I had seen the worse side of it.

It was so hard to take that step forward to have counselling, to finally acknowledge to myself just how sad and lost I was. It was incredibly hard to make the decision to report the abuse, to have to open up and expose my vulnerability and fear. And it was scary to walk into psychotherapy knowing for me that this was my best chance to finally be able to cherish the here and now, and find my peaceful future.

Taking the path I chose is not the right one for everyone but for me it has been. I’m still on that path but I’m much further along it than I ever dreamed when I stepped on it 4 years ago. The nightmares of my past are becoming fainter and I’m increasingly able to handle them when they feel near, my belief in myself and self worth grows daily. I’m beginning to enjoy the here and now, cherishing being alive rather than feeling it is a chore, and my hope for my future as a more peaceful and hopeful one, grows daily.

To all survivors out there I hope you find your own path. Remember that we are so very much stronger, braver, courageous and determined than we know. Don’t be scared to look back because in doing so you can look forward to the life you deserve.

My relationship with my body is improving

Huge thanks to the survivor who anonymously wrote this blog talking about how she began to have an improved relationship with her body again. She sums up how abuse and trauma is embodied, it is carried in our minds and also in our bodies. She talks about how it’s been vital that she had the chance for her body to heal too and how running has allowed her to connect with and feel back in control of her body again.

At RSVP we have several ways you can reconnect with you body again, from offering tai chi, walking, singing and more at our peer social groups and coffee morning, and through a running group offered by our sister organisation GINA. The group is very small and meets on a Saturday morning at Cannon Hill parkrun. Drop Lisa an email at: lisa@gina.uk.com if you’re interested.

******

Like a lot of survivors, for many years I’ve had a poor relationship with my body. When I thought about it all, I hated it. I felt it had let me down because of the way it responded to some of the things that were done to me. I punished it; I filled it with alcohol, put it in dangerous situations and cut it. Eventually, it dawned on me that my counsellor had been right all along when she told me these were short-term solutions that were ultimately harming me, so I started to run.

At first, “running” consisted of jogging for a few seconds with an extraordinarily patient friend and it’s no exaggeration to say that I looked like one of those nature programmes where baby elephants try to take their first steps – only they have less swearing. Afterwards I had to pretend I was thinking about answers to my mate’s questions (difficult ones such as; are your shoelaces undone?) to hide the fact that I couldn’t speak. Fortunately I’m menopausal- which at least explained away the excessive sweating.

In a short space of time though; seconds of running became a minute, then two. Then I joined a Couch to 5K programme where I was encouraged and coached to run 5 kilometres by some of the most friendly and supportive people I have ever met. That was 6 months ago and I have recently run 10 km for the first time.

Running has been a revelation. My relationship with my body is improving. Rather than letting me down it has powered me to achieve things I didn’t know I could. Now, my heart pounds because I’m running up a hill, not just because I’m feeling anxious again. I’m tired because I ran, not because I sat up all night drinking.

I can feel my calf muscles straining and know that they are mine, that I am my body and my body is me. I can feel aches and pains and interpret them and act on what they’re telling me. For the first time I am learning that other people can talk about my body to me and it is not a threat, there is nothing to fear. When they talk about the shape of my legs or the way I hold my chest it is not a prelude to something awful. It’s another human being seeing me as I am learning to- a whole, complete person that’s doing something amazing and wants to do it better.

When I feel the ground under my feet, it’s impacting on myfeet that belong to me, no-one else. They’re my lungs inflating, it’s my chest rising and falling. And I can stop anytime I want to…

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not a panacea. I still get bad days and I can get triggered with the best of them. But now I have an option; instead of reaching for the bottle or hiding in the house, I can go for a run. It can be 60 minutes or it can be six but it leaves me feeling good about myself and in control of what I do. Plus to date, running has yet to give me a hangover.

I still swear at my mate when we’re jogging together though!

RSVP

This poem about RSVP was written by Ann. Thank you Ann for your warm words. And sorry about the clumsy lifts! 🙂

Don’t take this from me,
This calm of places,
The arms that hug me,
The smiling faces.
I need to come here,
I need to fit,
I just need to be
Allowed to sit.

It’s precious now,
To those who come,
It’s strength in numbers,
It allows us fun.
It smells of safety,
It smells of nice.
I feel warm here,
There’s no ice.

The buzzer on the wall,
The clumsy lifts,
The mouse-size toilets,
No-one fits.
The chairs,
The cushions,
The bing-bong bell,
Safe oasis
From our hell.

Don’t take this from me,
I need it here.
I need to know
That others fear,
Reach and huddle,
Meet and cuddle,
Know I’m breathing,
Know I’m here,
Know that
These are people
I don’t have to fear.

Remember

Thanks to the anonymous survivor who shared this powerful poem.

** Trigger warning. This poem could cause distress and bring back painful memories if you have also been subjected to rape, sexual violence and abuse. **

Remember, remember 

They said

Remember what happened 

Remember the surroundings

Was the light on or off?

Remember

How he placed his hand on my thigh

Gripping it tightly 

The pain from his thumb

Piercing my leg

Remember what he did

His hand on my mouth

Stop messing

You want this

I never wanted this.

Survivor poem

This bold and profound poem was written by an anonymous survivor. Thank you for sharing your words with us.

You took something that wasn’t yours to take. 

Robbed me of my choice, made me feel I had no voice.

You took something that wasn’t yours to take.

Distorted every image of myself I see, created demons and trapped them inside me.

You took something that wasn’t yours to take.

I don’t forgive you.  People will continue to say that forgiveness will set me free.  Well then, I forgive me.

I forgive me for allowing what you did to make me think I was worthless. I forgive me for the years of torture now I know that I am blameless.

You don’t define me, I define me.

I will place blame where blame is due, and if even for a moment, you will carry this weight, too.