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.
Not Alone
This poem was written by Ann. Thank you so much to Ann for sharing your words with us and other survivors.
My world
was still,
stopped.
No tick tock,
vacuum
no room
for air or breath.
Now it’s here
the FEAR
marching in my brain.
Alone with no
control,
Insane?
Mistrust,
body rust
brain dust,
it won’t wash,
it won’t quash,
It’s part of me
I can’t cut free.
That second I slipped
Has tripped
my life
I’ve woken up,
I smell of fear
I am not the same.
It’s cost me dear
Because
I played the sickest game.
But still
I can’t give in.
Spiral curl
into a little girl,
wind up my mind
into a spool,
regard myself
as such a fool.
I MUST
reach out
search about
for someone else
like me
at RSVP.
Someone else
who’ll set me free
from being stone
and facing this
all
on my own.
Strength in numbers,
strength in me?
It’s in here somewhere,
let it free.
“Hard to trust?”
I don’t deny,
I might stumble,
I might cry.
But most will
let me share their boat
safe from sinking,
help me float,
its safety
only we can share
it gives me strength
to know you’re there.
Me
This powerful and hopeful poem was written by Kirk. Thank you Kirk for sharing these words.
‘used to have such a happy smile,
Was told I would laugh, all the while,
Things went strange, then they went bad,
I started getting beaten, by my dad.
I got to seven, should have been buzzin’,
Didn’t want to see the abuse of my cousin,
Things were strange, and really bad,
The abuse carried out, by my dad.
My uncle would play, with little boys,
Then came the day, I was one of his toys.
Things were strange and really bad,
My abuser the brother, of my dad.
Our family life, my mom thought quite grand,
She always buried, her head in the sand,
She was strange, and really bad,
I think she knew, of the sins of my dad.
My parents they planned to live ‘cross the water,
On school holidays, they’d care for my daughter
My cousin came out, that plan was defeated
She told everyone, her darkest kept secret
Dad took his own life, he had to really,
He craved his liberty, far too dearly
The way he went, it made me sad,
I never got justice, even from my dad.
These words I’ve written are from the heart
When life gets tough, don’t fall apart
When days are dark don’t give up hope
you have the strength within to cope.
That is not, who I am now,
I have succeeded, oh and how.
I have made changes to my whole life,
Helped by a woman; I’d like as my wife.
Kirk
I owe myself
Thank you to Annette for sharing her poem with us.
Nobody owes me anything
Because I know the people who hurt me will never say SORRY!!
They will never come to justice truly because my pain will never go away
They can never feel the hurt they placed inside of me, not only my body but my brain also, and my heart.
So the reason I owe myself is because I owe myself the time to grieve for what they have taken away from me.
I owe myself to forgive myself for allowing my abusers to cause so much pain, I panic!
I owe myself the time to know I am better than they are.
I owe myself the feeling of not feeling ashamed of who I am
I owe it to myself not to come down to their level and to comfort people in need, not hurt them.
But most of all I owe it to myself to be happy, to be free and to learn to trust, there are good people out there in this big wide world.
Most of all I owe it to myself to feel achievement and proud of who I am today!!
It has been a long journey, but we didn’t learn to walk or talk in one day.
It’s that first step to freedom, then it will become strides.
Be proud that you have taken the first step.
There are times you get hiccups, but everyone does,
Know who you are in life,
Just hold on, and fight for yourself to make your life happier and easier.
If I can do it, I’m sure you can.
Stand up for yourself when the time is right, be PROUD and STRONG
Always, always remember you were a victim, now you are a survivor, stand proud!
You are the better person and always will be.
It will be good when you feel free again and alive, fight for you, for what you believe in.
Don’t let your dreams pass you by, you can live your dreams and be happy.
Remember that saying…turn a frown upside down,
A smile is contagious and a hug from someone genuine can make your day seem a little better!
Fear
Thank you to Annette for sharing her poem with us.
The fear I feel is my own fear,
Of life itself.
So afraid, because I am more aware of pain and sorrow than of joy and happiness.
I know I must not look for bad things all my life,
Accept what happiness I can,
Life’s too short not to enjoy part of it,
I must accept my good times.
Every person, whether they know it or not, has a fear,
I am more aware of mine.
Having time to sit and think sometimes does me more harm than good.
So, I must accept my life and live it to the best of my ability.
From now on I will try and accept my fears and not let them stand in my way.
We all have a person inside of us fighting to get out, to find the reason why we are here on this planet Earth.
The word fear is a very frightening, powerful word.
The biggest fear for me is life itself,
Afraid to turn another corner,
Afraid to open another door,
The fear of not knowing what I have to face next.
Is it really the fear of living I am afraid of or is it the fear of dying?
I may never know that answer.
There are always questions, but not answers, some things are best left without an answer,
So stop searching, accept life for what it is.
Why do I need the help
We would like to thank an anonymous survivor who has asked us to share this poem. It explores how difficult it can be to reach out for help as doing so means acknowledging that the abuse was real.
*The poem contains material that will trigger some survivors. Please do take care of yourself when reading this poem; particularly paragraphs 3,4 & 5 that are in blue italic font.*
Why do I need the help when it should be for others?
There are those who need it more, deserve it more, not me
Feeling I can’t function, even with a long to do list, my mind it has again wandered
Recalling, remembering what he did to me all those years ago
Trying to grapple with the fact- it did happen
Not wanting to believe this, not wanting it to be true
My mind goes in to overload-‘He got away with it because I did nothing!’
Even though I know that this is not true
I did what I was told each time but just once resisted
Yet I was the child, wanted to be loved, kept safe and not challenge him
I remember too many details- like it was yesterday
Snippets of time returned into the present from over 30 years ago
The following lines might trigger survivors of sexual abuse.
I can still feel his hands on my body, smell the aftershave he wore
and the newness of his leather belt against my bare skin rubbing it sore
I can hear the whispers of his voice in my ear that he was pleased with me
That I would be ‘his princess, his best girl’
if I smiled at him as he touched me deeper inside rather than cry as that didn’t impress
But most of all I recall the fear of when, 8 years later I said no to him
The anger on his face, raised voice, now not ‘gentle’ with his intentions
The violence that followed, the pain of penetration inside my body, going in deeper, further this time with his rage
I submitted- although stripped and pushed against a table it was hard not to
A cigarette butt jabbed into the back of my leg
“That’ll teach you to say no next time I want it!” are the words that filled my ears with dread
His grasp around my waist and arms left bruises, I was so sore between my legs
My body bled for yet another time that year
Yet the fear of that afternoon stays with me…. Just no longer locked away inside
I don’t like the remembering yet I’m finding it so hard to let go
Of feelings, of images and the sensations of him inside me and on me
Did I imagine this? Could I imagine this? Where would these ideas come from?
I don’t want it to be real- I need it to be other people’s experiences not mine- not me
I want them to leave me alone
Carefully packaged away they were, until one day it all just came out, from one thought-
Like a bomb going off in my head it was- the trauma so terrifying, so real, I was distraught
It’s been a long journey these last 12 months and a roller coaster ride I am on
Yet I am getting better- I have moved on so, so much
it’s just difficult at times for me to see the progress when I am in it.
I sometimes wish my family knew- to share this pain and feeling of unworthiness I carry,
Yet at least for now I know, it’s only me that has to have this burden and worry.
Just me, not them feeling shame and despair.
And I now know, however alone I feel, I am not alone
There are those that listen, support, believe and help the path ahead seem clearer.
Those who help when I feel ‘unhealable’ and explain the reasons I feel like I do.
To know my journey is progress forward not giant steps back and it is restorative.
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