My Shameful Secret
I originally wrote this poem when I was 13. It’s a true story. I’ve been having dreams about it again because therapy opened the floodgate. I want the memories to go away, but I know I have to face them this time if I want to change.
My Shameful Secret
I guarded the shameful secret with my life.
He violated my body almost every night.
My mom pretended that everything was fine.
I resented her for not stopping him.
I hated him for what he was doing to me.
But I gave up fighting him years ago.
I learned it was easier to give in.
I was so ashamed.
Usually I would dissociate and pretend I was asleep -
Hoping, wishing, and praying that it would be over soon.
He didn’t care that the things he did were wrong.
I felt dirty and thought his actions were my fault.
I didn’t tell anyone about my shameful secret.
I knew no one would believe me.
He stole my innocence without a second thought.
He doesn’t have a conscience.
Regardless of what I did, he wouldn’t stop.
I wanted to die so he wouldn’t be able to hurt me again.
I didn’t know what else to do.
I was desperate and couldn’t handle it anymore.
It took my mind off the other pain.
And I felt better with each cut.
The blood ran fast – without any tears.
I thought about my siblings, especially my little sister.
I knew that if I was dead he would start in on her.
I cut deeper and deeper until the the physical pain took over.
I wanted to kill the shame.
I wanted to kill him so he couldn’t hurt me anymore.
I protected everyone except myself.
I let him hurt me so he wouldn’t hurt them.
After he finished for the night I would cut myself
And feel the sweet relief of bleeding.
I thought about ways to kill him,
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone -
I just wanted It to stop.
I told my best friend and called the police.
They refused to believe me and disregarded my plea -
They ignored me because his father had them in his pocket -
They didn’t want to bite the hand that fed them.
I had nowhere else to turn.
I thought about running away.
But I knew he would find me or hurt my sister in my place.
My only option was to stay and take the abuse.
Someday I will make him regret everything he did to me.
He will get exactly what he deserves.
There wasn’t anything more I could do to stop the abuse.
Someone should have been there to help and protect me – but WHO?!?
On this day..
- Big Sis, Lil Momma - 2012
About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.