Life Without…
Huge thanks to Martina for submitting this poem about eating disorders. It’s very thought provoking and we’re sure that other people affected by sexual trauma and eating disorders will relate to the feelings and questions that Martina evokes here. Our thoughts are with her and anyone affected as they endeavour to deal with the traumatic effects of abuse.
Life Without Shame and Without E.D.
(Eating Disorders)
You are my very best friend but also the worst of enemies
At times you make me feel so good but at times you make me feel disgusting
If I were free of you what would it leave?
Would it be a big gaping whole you used to fill?
Or would it be peace where the black hole used to be?
If I were free of you what would I be?
Would I be at peace?
Or would the war within me rise up and take over?
The anger that lies beneath but stays dormant and hidden deep inside just bubbling away silently. Silently.
If I were free of you who would I be?
Would I feel more powerful for overcoming you and fighting you?
Or would I feel weak for giving in and stuffing my face with the thousands of calories they want me to have?
Do I try and know that I will become this bigger person on the outside while the numbers rise rather than fall?
Or do I carry on, but carry on feeling tired, worried and disgusting with every look in a mirror or every reflection in the glass windows?
I don’t know but what I do know is I don’t want to be me anymore and feel the memories of my past.
The panic of what feelings of memories evoke. Not wanting to be touched or hugged or kissed.
Not trusting any man but been desperate so desperate to be settled get married and feel a love like never before.
Change is down to me. Do I want it enough? Is it really for me or is it to keep those around me quiet and off my back?
Why would I want to stay in this rut when I could gain so much more? Is it all so engrained like the lines on a tree trunk that no amount of hard work will ever remove this horrible disease and these horrible memories?
I just don’t know any more time will tell but right now I’m treading water and just about staying afloat.
Gaining Back Control.
We would like to thank the survivor who has asked us to anonymously share their poem. This poem explores how taking time to be with yourself can empower you to take back control of the choices you make and the direction your life takes.
Poetry can be used as a way of expressing emotions that might otherwise be difficult to express. We hope you enjoy the poem.
Gaining back control
Heading out of the harbour’s safety
At the helm and feeling more in control
Looking out into the unknown
Repaired hull, the damage has left scars
These will heal with time,
with time spent feeling empowered
Time spent recognising my own needs
and no longer dismissing them,
No longer ignoring the hurts, the pains of time gone by.
Heading out of the harbour
into the cloudy peaks of unchartered waves
Realising I am not alone
The ocean that is life is ahead of me
Complete with it’s tides of calm and storm
Yet, I am not now alone
I have support around me
I stand at the helm yet I am not isolated.
I now make choices about the direction I steer
Choices that I am not coerced into
Being in control of events and decisions
I navigate this new path into the unknown
I navigate it because I want to, for myself
Because I choose to take this journey
To re find myself, my true identity
The inner part of me that cannot be taken away
Cannot be destroyed by the perils of the sea.
That part of me is now starting to be at the helm
Beginning to resurface- to take back and gain control.
Here
We are extremely grateful to the survivor who has written this poem, anonymously, about a recent event where she felt triggered, showing the disconnect she felt between being a victim and being a survivor. Both RSVP and the survivor hopes that the poem makes a positive difference to other survivors who have experienced the difficulty of being triggered, by the smallest of actions of others. We’re sure that many people will relate to these words and the difficulty of ‘the space in between’ following sexual trauma.
Writing can be a way to explore, navigate and reduce distressing and traumatic feelings. Writing this poem particularly helped the survivor when a bank holiday meant that she could not attend her counselling session. We hope the poem will also encourage other survivors to see how writing can be used as a way to manage difficult situations, and express painful feelings, whether they are accessing counselling or other kinds of support, or not.
Thank you to the survivor for giving her consent for this poem to be shared. You can read more of her work here.
Here
I’m frightened, so frightened, and I’m so tired of being scared
It’s not the darkness that I fear
Not those things far away; or those that are near
Those things don’t scare me, it’s something more real
The casual comment, the look, the word
And I am back there again
In the place where I can’t feel
The space in between
I talk to her and she makes me feel safe
Her calm and her words a walled embrace
But it’s fleeting, not truly real
Because I can learn to play strong, can almost convince me
That I can be that one
But the fear will come again
And remind me our work’s not done
I don’t know why this happened
I’m not sure what I did
But I know that I don’t own me, and I think I never did
I can live with that, can be with that
Make that the life I live
And it will work until I come across
The spaces in between
It’s not the violent storm, the drowning rain
The punishing snow or hurricane
There are always ways and means
To manage those nightmares, but it seems
Those things can’t hope to affect
The still, dead, calmness
Of the spaces in between
She was so small, so tiny, so much fun
Till the darkness came for her
And told her what she must become
To be two people; the happy, the cheerful, the fun-filled one
Though
I don’t want to know the other one, accept that she is real
But we seem destined to meet
In the spaces in between
I want to take a hammer, an axe, a knife, a gun
A weapon to make things clean
I want to take those things to purify
The spaces in between
For Now We Look In a Mirror Dimly…
Thank you to the survivor who anonymously submitted this poem. Writing can be very personally restorative after sexual trauma, as well as ‘speaking’ to those who read it. We hope this poem helped the author and will help other survivors too.
For now we look in a mirror dimly
But then face to face,
We look at ourselves, what image reflects back?
The memories gone by, excited images of the past
What else can we see when we delve deeper still?
Incidents not wanting to be recalled, now looking back at me
Incidents of despair, hurt, fear and the unknown
Situations that I didn’t like, fractured pictures, images mixed together
Clear memories once locked away, at the surface-
but I was never facing them alone.
What else can I see, right deep inside, in me?
A beautiful soul, kind spirit, peacemaker- that’s part of me
My inner me, not damaged by the world,
Kept apart, at one in God, His spirit in me
How do I move on, from an unclear reflection?
Focus on the good, the pure, and the wholeness of creation
Memories gone by, some clear, some fade
People join on the journey to help make clear the way.
Where does it lead, this path that contains despair?
Not to hope, kindness and peace- it’s not welcomed there
Time to let go, to look the other way
To choose the mirrors I look into and others I can turn away
Bridges built around my box can slowly be taken down
I want to see the inner me not crushed into the ground
My boat will make it to harbour’s rest,
It shall be restored-
not tainted by memories that are there still, some not yet removed
One day I can ask the questions-
If by then I do still want
But for now I will rest in assurance that
My life does hold value not hurt.
For now, I look in a mirror dimly- but then face to face
Now I know in part, but then I shall know fully, just as I am fully understood.
What Doesn’t Serve You, Let It Go
KA survivor has asked us to share this poem, it poignantly reflects how painful the impact of sexual trauma and sexual abuse can be, and how having a safe space to share these feelings can help to let them go. Huge thanks and gratitude to the survivor for allowing us to share this powerful piece.
*Please take care when reading this poem as part of the content (in particular the 4th paragraph after the first picture) may be a trigger for some survivors. *
Thoughts swirling around, creating chaos in my mind- no direction, no way out
What purpose do they serve?
But to destroy the present or awake the senses of that were the past?
Let them go.
Let them go where?
Into the abyss of the emptiness of the mind or to pen and paper to be dealt with later?
Let go and learn to live again
To deal with a trauma, not forgetting yet recalling
Not reliving it yet remembering it all for what it was
I was not responsible
I was not responsible
To be able to respond to questions, not being ashamed of who I am, what I am, what I was and what I did
I was not responsible
I understand not only with a child’s mind yet now with an opened mind
To keep recalling and reflecting is not serving a purpose, but occupying the present
I was not responsible
However I feel that I was, however I know that I felt and recall those feelings, they were not my choice
This can be my choice now.
It can be my choice- not his words, his breath, his body, him in me… this can be just me
A long journey now approaching a crossroads
Not turning back yet looking ahead to the path in front
Whatever does not serve my mind needs to go another way.
I hold the map in my hands,
My own compass to direct me,
To guide me and point me back to where I need to belong
I know my bricks are within reach
I was not responsible,
Even when I feel I was and I deserved every bit of it for being me
I was not responsible,
Even though I still view a fractured image of self as a mirrored reflection
Wise words spoken, mind shaping a different pattern
My ship, it will be repaired
Sheltered waters await me if I let them embrace me
Clutching tight and yet holding on to images of the past
Locked into feelings, not the best way forward-
As venturing into a sea of desperate waves crashing mindlessly on a stricken deck
It will not serve a purpose, it will not heal, just harm
Thoughts swirling around, creating chaos in my mind- no direction, no way out
What purpose do they serve?
But to destroy the present or awake the senses of that were the past?
Let them go.
Let them go where?
Let them be processed, understood for what they were
For how they unfolded, yet did not take over
Let them go, into the ears of a listener
Into arms that can wrap around security and reassurance
They do serve a purpose, for they are part of who I am
Yet will not dictate who I am
These feeling do not serve me, they seek to destroy me
I will, slowly and surely let them go.
I am ok.
This is a poem by a survivor (who wants to remain anonymous) about moving from being “not ok” to starting to feel that they “are ok”. We think that many survivors will be able to relate to and connect with this journey.
I am ok
i.
I am not ok
What is outside is not inside
It’s someone else’s life on show
And I like that life, I wish it was mine
But the inside me is tainted, it’s wrong
And it’s so tiring keeping that part secret
It’s got so cold.
ii.
I think I might be ok
I spoke today, I said the words
And I was listened to, I was heard
And she believed. Me.
I performed my show life
But she said, “No. That is not you”
“It’s the inside you that matters”
“Show me”
iii.
My words and my truth are making light
That is starting to puncture the darkness
The shame is not mine to own
And the world that is me can be bigger
Oh, God- the journey is long
But I am travelling it, in skips and jumps and tiny scared steps
I am travelling it
And I am ok
I am ok.
Two of me
There is two of me.
One the confident professional, who is passionate about my job, described by colleagues as conscientious and dedicated to work
Then there is me on the inside, in the quiet times when there is no one else there.
Me that remembers the past, not wanting to believe what I recall.
There is however two of most of us.
Everyone wears some sort of mask.
Everyone may be hiding a phobia, a fear, a memory.
Everyone will at some stage put on an act, a show to those around them.
Yet, we are not everyone.
We are not ones who can forever hide behind a mask.
Our mask is surviving.
Looking back through adult eyes yet a child’s body-feeling it, seeing it in our mind’s eye.
Our mask cannot hide the triggers of our heightened senses.
It cannot dismiss the reality of seeing that someone in the corner of our eye or hearing words once said to us.
Our masks are survival mechanisms.
Built and moulded to block out pain, hurt and shame.
Carefully crafted to fool the preying eyes of the world around us.
My fear is family and friends discovering who all of me really is, my experiences
Discovering the fears and terrors that have been hidden well by the years
Tidied away into neat parcels and wrapped tightly then put away…. until now.
Now I’ve started talking about it.
Now the reality of the years is forefront in my mind.
Now the triggers occur where once they were all pushed aside, once forgotten
Now it’s real.
My mask is being slowly and carefully removed.
My fears are understood, believed.
The tightly wrapped memories in my mind are gently being unwrapped.
The inner me feels frightened, alone and in a strange environment, unfamiliar territory.
Yet my mask will come away.
I am unlearning the strategies once held tight that kept me safe and kept me in some control of my situation.
I am learning to forgive myself for holding myself responsible
With support I now have, and an ever present listening ear I can be reassured,
I now realise my fears, reactions and emotions are all okay- part of a healing process
We all wear a mask.
What our mask unearths is the real us.
Our mask is part of us.
Part of our survival. Part of our story.
Yet, these can be removed,
There can be just one of us, not two
The inner me can be exposed in the safety of a listening ear.
My deepest fears can be realised and I can move forward with new strategies not to hide yet to thrive.
To realise my potential without a mask
To see a future without hiding, without clinging on the memories.
This is now possible. This is within reach.
We all wear a mask at some point
But do we all know what our masks are protecting us from?
Created not to be used
Created not to be used, abused yet to be me
Placed in a family of love and expectation. Free
Misguided choices from others led me into a situation no one else knew about
A secret harboured, kept close for too many years- I kept it quiet- I didn’t shout it out
Aiming to please, to be told how great I was I learnt new ways to please
Experienced strange sensations and could blank some of them out with ease
What started off as having fun was part of his game plan
He got me to think it was normal, as if he was like every other uncle- every man
Yet other men don’t prey on girls that are just 4 years old
And little girls just want to please and do as they are told
My normal became distorted and my view of the world changed
He should have looked after me not used me as if it was a game
I didn’t like it when he had his friends come round to play
They watched me please him, gave me sweets and then had their own way
I still don’t know what happened to the photos that they took
It’s like the memories come flooding back if I look in our family photo book
My nightmare ended when I was twelve -I still do not know why
A family argument they said- He’s no longer that nice guy.
I often wonder if someone knew what had happened to me
I was too scared to tell my family, to let my experiences be freed
I’m still afraid of them finding out, It would hurt their feelings hard
I am so glad that a colleague I told gave me an RSVP contact card.
My story now it is believed and nothing’s too bad to say
I can talk and write about how I feel any time of night and day
I know it wasn’t my fault it happened- they’ve helped me believe that in my heart
And slowly but surely with listening ears I’m being restored,
re-empowered, made whole- not just in part.
Hope
Hope
A change of tide comes about each day-
a mood of the sea, drifting with gravity
Sailing the waves, my heart rises and falls
Memories gone by, some wanting to be left alone.
some crashing , breaking on the sandy shores of my mind
The power of the force of water, of memory knocks me back
Takes me to places under – I don’t like it
Yet also lifts me further on, to a new place-
one of leaving the old behind
New shores, new rocks to scramble over
new beginnings for old experiences
The seasons change. The pattern of the tides change
Time changes me.
From in the depths of the harrowing winter storm season of my trauma emerges the spring tide-
some swells, some lows yet all the time moving forward
Healing is also for a season. The tides of my life
Time to have heart ache, feel enormous pain
To re-live the nightmares of the past that emerge as a storm into my present
Times of feeling dragged under water, unable to keep my head afloat, to breathe alone
Yet times of letting it go- letting the waves rise and fall and know i will not perish into the depths of my mind- into the total abyss of feeling the hurt, lonely, worthless, used rag that I will not continue to be
Knowing that as a wave takes me I am no longer alone.
I no longer become dragged down by secrets needing to be kept out of fear
I can look forward- to new shores
Remembering my past yet not being held captive by it
Swimming, not drowning, being able to stay afloat
Seasons of the sea mean that I can be healed, set free
Free to sail in a repaired and restored safe boat.
Safe to ask questions and for some to know my past
Not always waiting for high tide to crash, destroy and engulf
Living in the now- without looking over my shoulder for the ‘has beens’
I acknowledge the perils of the sea, the forces that will always be there in my mind
Yet I am learning to deal with them, not be a prisoner of them
To let it go. Let my self be okay to rise and fall to acknowledge this as normal
One day I may understand the tides of my life
Know the reasons why I ended up on this horrific path I once walked, I swam, I barely kept on.
One day is closer than yesterday, closer than when my storm came, when I barely kept afloat
One day I will no longer fear the open water of what could have been and what was.
Yet for now…. I need to stay on my boat, believe in the safety of it and know I can ride the waves.