'we all go a little mad sometimes'
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.
I wrote the suicide note and prepared for death.
I took a kitchen knife and began cutting myself.
I made a few practice cuts on my thighs.
The pain shot through my body -
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
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#3 written by Chan 5 years ago
I'd read somewhere else in your blog your therapist saying something about forgiving those people who abused you – I remember thinking that was a bit of a heavy thing to ask anyone to do really and that therapist was asking quite a lot from you – personally I thought you had better start by realising none of these abuses were your fault, but what do I know, I am not therapist! In any case, I was wondering, have you ever thought of suing the bastards? Seeing them being punished this way for what they did to you would probably help a bit!
As for your question about who should have been there to help, difficult one…your mum really but as you said, she refused to see the problem (plus being bipolar herself, not sure how easy it would have been for her to take responsibility for this). I know in my country, there are charities that help childen who are abused, but I can't imagine it's easy for a child to seek help when they have all these fears and uncertainties inside them.
Anyway, this post was written over a year ago, how do you feel about this now?
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I never really thought about suing them. Only one of my fourteen abusers are still in my life and I have forgiven that particular abuser. The other thirteen can go to hell for all I care, I just don't want them back in my life.
Besides not wanting them in my life, I don't want to rehash all that abuse. It's difficult enough to do that here and this is a semi-anonymous blog.
I think making me believe I wasn't at fault should have been the first step as well, but apparently that counselor wanted the burden of hatred lifted from my shoulders first. I guess she figured that would be easier than convincing my inner child that she did nothing wrong.
We have anti-abuse charities and agencies here, but I fell through the cracks. The one time I was bold enough to tell someone it was blown off because Larry is excellent at lying. I never asked for help again.
Honestly, Chan I'm not really sure how I feel about this post right now. I'll think about it for a day or two and answer your question in another post.
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I miss mania and hypomania […]
It is horrendous to think about what has happened to you. That man is sick and I hope he gets what he deserves.