⚠️Office Closure- January 2026
The weather is taking a severe turn, and now there is an amber weather warning across the region. Storm Goretti might make travelling quite difficult due to snowfall predictions, and that’s why RSVP has made the decision to temporarily close our office till normal weather returns.
Here are the dates to keep in mind:
a. Office closed from Thurs 8th Jan, 2pm onwards, after which our team will work from home.
b. Office closed all day on Friday, 9th Jan, with our team working from home. This is a precaution, since the amber warning extends to Friday morning and could impact safe travel.
c. Office open on Saturday as usual, unless the current predicted weather changes. We will send further updates if anything changes.
We are in the processing of contacting clients, due to be seen in person (at our main premises, outreach, schools etc. and from 2pm today or tomorrow) to inform them to stay safe, not to travel & to be offered an alternative phone session instead. For younger children we will offer carers/parents a check in instead.
Please look out for a message on your email or phone to update you. Already booked phone appointments will generally continue as planned.
Although this is a change to how we support clients, we want to ensure that survivors, our team and colleagues can avoid travel during an amber warning, and stay safe. This is our priority.
For any questions or assistance, please get in touch with us via email: info@rsvporg.co.uk
Sugar coated words
Some days I welcome the frost in the mirror,
too unbreakable to reflect crystal thoughts,
Stones rattling for each word thrown in discarded arrogance,
Barely skimming the surface as I casually toss them aside.
Some days I am on the run,
A fake criminal with no record, only the sentence has already been given,
Judge and jury lining up one by one
Ready to hurtle sugar coated undertones of narrative, silent accusations.
However far away I am sent,
Through the raging underbelly of a swirling mist or banished to the darkest corners,
I still exist
I am ready.
I have survived!
© Elizabeth Shane – (From Behind the Mask)
Available on www.elizabethshane.com
You & Me
Thank you to the survivor who submitted this poem, and the five other poems published over the past few days. We really appreciate you sharing your words with us and other survivors.
A year
since you started to help my broken
Self
stitch-my-skin-back
t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r
Comfort film with
pancake making
Sleeping with you – my naked person
Valentine’s day chocolates and prosecco in
bed
When the stitches
fall
I held onto
you
Violent crying I can’t (stop)
Raw emotions that open
up the wound
Phantom pains
Force memories back
But you are here
Holding onto me too
fish and chips and
good sex
Your voice comforting me on the train
You
Me
I was broken
I was no longer me
Now I am me
Me with you
i want to write a happy poem
i want to write a happy poem
but while I’m still sad
you make me safer
anchored to your body
my fingertips graze over your chest
following to your nipples and collarbone
kissing you, chin to cheek
your lips on my neck and hands giving me heat
below
i wear your hoodie to have your arms around
me again
outlining my smiles with your finger
we wait for the miles between us to cease
your hands in my hair again
brushing your fingers through it
you like my cheeky grin
hands that warm mine
and fit as if by design.
i smiled through the pain
i smiled through the pain in the morning
as I knew you’d have to
leave
i kissed you goodbye
now I can only cry
i feared the thud would be heard through the
walls
violence echoes in the silence
now I just have blood
a bruised body
and pain where I sit
is this what I get for being called fit?
i let you in
i let you in
so I deserved the cries of pain
i felt the shame
crying
on
the
stairs
it’s my fault, I repeat
a mantra, as I destroy the sheets
my mind in constant retreat
the guilt is all
mine
Ghost
You’re my ghost.
In the back of my mind.
The night we spent together haunting me.
Where are you?
Your name makes me shudder.
I recognise the smell of you.
Leave me alone!
Invading my thoughts and fantasies…
Biting kisses, forceful pushes and cries of pain.
Your fingers snake around my neck.
In my mouth.
I beg, I turn away, push you off me.
Pain.
Again and again and again.
Removing your hand again, again.
Clutching at the mattress with no relief.
Moaning in fear of force.
Blood splattered.
Squeezing me tight.
I close my eyes.
And then your hand goes again.
I go quiet.
Staring at my shelves.
Rectangular, ordered.
Block it out.
I sleep with my arms around you,
We kiss goodbye.
Sitting in the showers I cry.
Agony.
I can’t sit.
I can’t pee.
What’s happened to me?
Only I cry and hold the pain.
In the darkness you push my head down again.
Body broken, bruised in bad places.
I must carry on, this is just another
Day.
The chance I have you after your call to meet
Small talk.
Excuses at every block.
Confusion at every question.
Stumbling
Silence.
Every place on campus,
A tag on Facebook,
Snagging at memories.
Me gagging.
Your words burn.
I struggle to see anything worth inside of me.
All Women
A survivor has sent some poems to share with here with other survivors. Watch this space for more poems.
I had my first crush when I was 11.
Soft, excited, feelings – a high five, a hello made my day.
I was 12 when I was first asked out by a boy.
I was 13 when the boy sitting next to me in Geography class asked if a guy had popped my cherry yet.
I was 14 when I was first catcalled and honked at on a run.
I was 18 when I was told I was expected to dress more conservatively.
And at 19 I was sexually abused and I thought my life was over.
The pain that night – 29 November 2019 – was so bad I thought I was going to die.
To me it came out of nowhere and it was a completely random event.
So when at 20 for voicing my opinion that went against the leader of our group I was called aggressive.
I thought no.
I am strong. I am feisty. And you don’t like that I have a voice, which goes against yours.
But too bad, I am here
and here
to stay.
Missing You
Pearl has contributed a poem about missing the Arts with Hearts group during lockdown.
Arts With Hearts doesn’t ask: How, When, Where, Why???
Are you sure???
They say: “Come in, have tea,
Sit and watch, express yourself, feel free”.
No, I can’t crochet, even now,
But , no matter, I give myself, my time,
My laughter, I join in, I hear my sound,
Feel safe, feel part of life,
Not numb, feel I could be, even ME.
I’ve noticed colours, CLAY,
Solid, ever-changing stuff,
Smoothness, curves scored into rough.
Textured people in my life are
Tangled, woven, knitted, knotted,
I make solid shapes, smooth, reliant, true,
You might say, “But why, for who?”….
ME, of course,they’re mine , I did that!!
I made that sparkle shine, dull hue, loud voice of colour.
Prettiness trapped inside me
Pours out in liquid, fountain-free,
Art can SHOUT,
Can whisper fear,
Can cry in pain,
Can show : “I’M HERE!!!”.
Invisible Damage
“The poem is talking about how we say we’re “fine”, when people ask and don’t show how we really feel, for various reasons, and how important it is to find people (like at RSVP) who we can tell how we really feel“
Pearl is fine, Pearl is free
But Pearl is trapped
And Pearl is me.
You only see the one on show, really not the one you know.
Sawn in half each side divides,
Pearl is living in two lives.
Scythed in two by Virus rules, locked at home,
No fun in schools, no friends to play, out of Control,
My head is cut down to my soul.
Isolation ward is home, only help is down a phone,
No touch, no love, no shielding arm,
Alone and scared of any harm,
Rocking, starving,all those things self-abusive harming brings,
Making sense more than the lies, strategies and stingy eyes
From crying. Loss of self, loss of me, controlled, restricted, power-free.
I’m needing help from someone who sees past the mask
And guides me through to overcome the big deride,
My introverted “spoilt” child.
Yet out in life no-one can tell,
Pearl is happy, Pearl is well,
Pearl is fun, she makes you laugh,
But really Pearl is cut in half.