Author: Mozayik "the souls' poet"

The true story told in poetry. I am a Real and Raw Poet and Author of ”The Souls’ Poetry” my soul's true story of its’ journey to healing from the pain of childhood sexual trauma. I blog about my three-year commitment to therapy and what life is like before and after healing. Decreasing the stigma of mental illness, inspiring women to tell their stories, and leading women To and Through Therapy is my mission.

erroneous core belief #1

I had a core belief that I did not deserve to be treated well. Of course, this is an expected response to abandonment, neglect, rape, and abuse. How else was my psyche able to allow this assault on my person, on my innocent soul?

It killed my healthy self-image. Convinced me that, I, the victim deserved this because I was bad and nobody cared. I had been programmed to expect to be traumatized.

I was guilty of not being enough. I was guilty of everything that had ever happened to me. I was guilty of ruining everybody’s life. I was fucking guilty if I did not buy the right toothpaste.

guilty felt normal

grandma said my mother did not want me

so I was guilty of being a burden

guilty of being unwanted

guilty of needing love

guilty of not adequately paying the debt I owed

for  never being enough  no matter how hard I tried

mother said I was crazy cause Mamie j  raised me

after she abandoned me

it was my grandmothers fault for doing

what my mother did not

I was not enough to be kept

I was not enough for her to love me unconditionally

so I kept running into the arms that made me

feel like my mother

so I could one day be enough for her to love me

but just like my mother

they abused and abandoned

they were narcissistic just like she

but that was then

now my boundaries abound

I see the  truth of who I am

I no longer need trauma bonding

my trauma brain synapses are rewired

the holes in my soul are filled with self-love

by mozayik thesoulspoet.com

5.5.2020.1.33p

 

 

 

music is my lover

music is my drug of choice

my constant companion

through all of this terror

it saves me minute by minute from madness

I turn it off , it keeps playing

I get lost in thought,  it keeps swaying

soothing me with lyrics of the last song that wooed me

music touches my soul, my hair follicles, my toes

I start groving and the next thing I know

me and music are rocking and rolling

until I am totally holding

freedom

in the palms of my hands

my fingers keep poping

while I drop it like its hot

before I know it me and music are in love

and we ain’t to proud to show it

music is my lover

my drug of choice

call me a gleeful forever addict

i get high

so i can fly

away on my lyrical horses

above the noises

by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’

circa 4.2020

I finally killed George.

Healing is amazing. The man that raped me at 5 was named George. Before therapy anytime I heard the name George I would immediately be transported in my mind to him raping me. So I avoided George at all times. If I overheard the name I had to put my armor on. Without even knowing it that name had the power to send me to my bed for days.

Where I work the Fitness Instructor’s name is George. We were in an African performing arts group in the late ’90s together but I knew him by another name then.

I do believe that my steps are divinely ordered.  I believe this situation was tailor-made for me. When I first heard his name I did not run home to my bed. I don’t even think I recognized it as a past trigger.

Because he worked there his name was called out frequently. I would sometimes give George a ride home. On one occasion he asked me to take him to Walmart and then we would go to lunch, his treat. Well, the place “he” had chosen objectified women. I felt uncomfortable because of the staff’s attire. Most people’s bra and panties have more coverage than these young women were wearing.

He started going on about someone he knew really liked asses. I stopped him mid-story and told him that I did not objectify women. After that, I had to set some clear boundaries with George. The women at work say he was testing me. I stopped being chummy with him.

George had a stroke. Every day now his name is called out by people asking how he is doing. I am the person at the front desk. I am usually the one giving an update about his progress.

The George that raped me at five is dead to me now.

I have become desensitized to that name. Flashbacks, nightmares, and hypervigilance caused by George are a thing of the past.

This is what healing feels like.

The George that raped me at 5 was murdered in prison. I don’t know this to be true but my memory is that my Father got the word out that he had raped his little girl and they killed him.

Before therapy, he was still alive for me. I wanted to kill him so badly. I thought that it was unfair that he was dead. I was angry because I could not make him suffer.

As I write this I take deep breaths and release any residual energy still tied to that event in my life. I made it to the promised land of happiness.

Ding Dong George is Dead, Finally.

 ‘PTSD & me’

#FeelingSafeIsABasicNeed

someone walks into the room quietly and i jump
the startle reflex is the dominant symptom of the day
that was yesterday
today
i hyperventilate as i drive back home
i saw a man walking in the dark around our doors
I am triggered by this, i am tired, i have not slept
i am trying to put fear back on the shelf
understanding is far and i am just a complaint
my body hurts, i have struggled with chores
while trying to take care of my health
if i try to explain how i have felt
it is always and never
go back to your happy place self
the throw away is imminently dealt
the rejection, the judgment because i am myself
could i just not be me
i struggle with accepting me the way i are
i am scarred
i am scarred
i may even be broken but
most of the time i am just angry
about the battle days with fear
gripping me tight choking out safe light
i must fight to let it go
i must tell my mind that this is not then
and it is not happening again like before
so many befores’
so many befores’
sometimes they come rushing out the doors of my soul
in a second
a simple moment
i could lose control
i could stumble down the dark hole of ptsd
hypervigilance, easily startled, just fucking afraid of everything
it affects my breathing, my being
at least after therapy
i know what is happening to me
i can use my breath to regain free
i can breathe to release my body from this memory
my soul reminds me of who i am and the awesome power to live is me
in a single moment
i breath
shutting the door to the past
accepting me
even if no one else gets it
i still must love and live with myself
my superpower is the unconditional love that resides in me
fear is not really a factor
God lives in me
bring it on fear
i only need to breathe
to be free
by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’
4.9.2019 716a

It is finished

I have not been promoting my book because that journey has ended. I don’t know where I would be without poetry. I was born a poet because that is what I needed to give voice to my pain. I bled onto the pages and it helped to heal me.

The poems in my book tell the story of my healing. It is amazing to me how clearly the poems actually chronologically portray my healing process.  The title was My Healing Journey and I actually published and printed the part of the book that was finished at that time in 2008.

My healing journey was not complete, though.  The book has gone from 48 pages to 80 pages. It seemed it would never be complete because every editing session triggered me.  I would spiral down into depression,  get into therapy and when I felt better or I allowed myself to be distracted I stopped therapy.  there were also other reasons I had to stop, like insurance or lack thereof.

The book became one of my biggest motivators to continue therapy.  I could clearly see my progress but also see where there was more work needed. I started to realize that my soul knew what I needed to heal. So I trusted it. It became apparent that the book would not get published or even completed until I healed. 

The book became a labor of self-love. It became my promise to God that I would give my gift at no cost. Writing is the tool or gift God has given me to heal myself and to heal others. It is better to give.

A therapist once told me that after I did the work to heal that I would be happier than I could imagine. I did not believe her but I had to try and see what the end was going to be. What did I have to lose? I had happiness to gain, so I  finally committed to therapy because being in pain became unbearable.

I got very serious about healing once I started having flashbacks. I had to face the fact that I suffered with PTSD.  As it is often said,  when the student is ready the teacher will appear. In January 2012 I was led to the YWCA where I spent over 3 years healing from childhood sexual abuse.

My therapist told me that I could be healed from PTSD and Fibromyalgia. She was right. It is true, that if you heal the mind you heal the body. Depression hurts.

I went over 3 years without therapy but the journey was not over. I still dealt with anxiety. Depression was and still is a thing of the past.  I still had to heal from domestic violence among other things that had left side effects.

I don’t regret any part of my journey. I am a powerhouse now for women that are healing or want to start healing.

I was born with a calling to tell women that they can be free from the pain that stops them from being all that they want to be. God has used me to pull women from the edge of the ledge. I am sure I could not even imagine how much God has used me to tell women they can be free.

So I regret nothing. I was called out to endure and heal to say, “Girl get you some help”.

This last year in therapy and the last domestic violence experience gave me valuable lessons.  Iyanla VanZant said, “There is value in the valley”. 2019  took my understanding of why I and many other women keep choosing the same type of person. We attract to us the people we need to heal. Sounds a little skewed but it is true. When we heal that part of ourselves we no longer need that situation to mirror our pain.

I have learned about things like Trauma bonding and The Trauma Brain and Narsacism as well as what it means to be an Empath. I count it all Joy. This information was essential for me to complete my journey to healing.

I decided ten years ago to take control of my life and make the necessary changes to have a better quality of life. I needed my children to be proud of me. I wanted them to see that Mama worked hard to get her shit together. I wanted to show not tell them that asking for help is a sign of strength and if you are willing to do the work you can change.

Now it is time to thrive. Now it is time to teach. Now is the time to reach even more women with the message, “I promise on the other side of healing is Happy”.

Fight, is My Middle Name

The Souls' Poet

I’ve fought all my life

Coming here backward was a glimpse of my fight

I did not turn around I came feet first

I was born fighting

There have been times when I didn’t want to fight

But because I am fight

I fought

Again and again

I fought

I have fought for rights

Fought for love

Fought for and with my words

I have fought old people with a challenge to the status quo

Saying we don’t have to do that anymore

I have fought for children that nobody wanted

There has been infighting

Out fighting with only two of us

I’ve kicked down doors with my fight

Been speaking my piece to gain peace with my fight

My fight has won tons of progress

I fight for the ones that don’t have any fight

They can count on me to fight

I stopped fighting one day

I tried…

View original post 106 more words

Healing Brings Good Memories

I know I have healed because I can remember the many great things I had as a child. I now have fond memories and they now cover up the bad memories. The good memories bring me joy, cause me to break out and smile while bringing happy tears to my eyes. A walk down memory lane is now filled with gratefulness. I don’t hesitate to walk down memory lane. It is a pleasant welcome experience. That is freedom.

I was raised by two great women my grandmother Mamie and my great grandmother Bertha. Cara my aunt also shared in raising. Tragically, I never saw them in a healthy relationship with men. However, I never heard them be mean to anyone. I did not overhear them plotting about revenge.
I saw them work together to accomplish goals like being homeowners. I saw them share with friends, family, and neighbors.

Healing has allowed me to see the glorious upbringing these women gave me. I am who I am because of them. I am kind-hearted because they were kind-hearted. I have a passion for helping people just like they taught me to be. I believe in order and setting boundaries like they taught me.
They also taught me to fight back, stand on my own two feet and don’t take no shit off nobody. Just as they taught me to pray and trust God. They also taught me to be ready to protect myself. I really saw no fear in them at all.

One man got rowdy with my grandmother when I was about eight or nine and she got her gun and run his ass out of the house. We never saw or heard from him again. I saw them have male friends but no live-in man. A man did not ever spend the night.
They worked and provided for themselves. I started working at eleven cleaning offices with my grandmother. They taught me by example and word that “If you don’t work, you don’t eat”.

They poured so much love into me. My great grandmother would hold me and rock me in her rocking chair while reading the bible to me. This has to be my fondest memory of her. I thank God that I can carry these memories with me in my heart every day. There is no more rain in this cloud. I found the silver lining. All the hard work has been worth it. #Healed

Mamie and Bertha in me

I honor the Mamie and Bertha in me

the image they continue to give me is one of possibility

these women stood tall, I never saw their backs break

a slight bend now and again

but never broken

I never saw them without what they needed

they showed me with hard work anything can be defeated

I am not afraid to break a sweat

so you have not even seen the best of me yet

I am like my Great Grandmother Bertha,

she walked through this world on her own terms

she paid the price to decide

when to prop up her feet and die to flesh

this is who I am

my grandmother Mamie  did the same thing

you would always her saying

I will  die before I lose my independence

and she left this world on her own terms

this is where I come from

backs do not break

we walk on through

our souls help us decide what to do

like their great, great, and great-granddaughter Melisa

even though they left her for dead

she has a mission

she will decide when it is time to go home

so I am going to be all right

this is where I come from

I have decided I have more work to do

more light to shine, more seeds to be sown before I go home

I am going to lay my burdens  down

at Mamie, Bertha, Cara, Annie,

Essie and Margie’s feet

they are already free

and they are waiting for me to finish up this work

and come home and be free

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”  3.11.13

 

my daughter’s words

Mama, thanks for always being my biggest supporter. Thanks for growing with me, always gently pushing, even when I get off track you’re still there, saying you can do this girl. No one has ever told me I’m phenomenal more than you. You are definitely my ride or die. I know I can be a bit bossy, controlling and difficult to deal with.

You have always shown me patience through love and honesty. I truly enjoy being around you. You are very special. This is why every child that has come from you, is extraordinarily smart, wise, and loving. All of that came with a price. All of your suffering and sacrifice has come with a cost.

Now you can be a beacon of light and love. You attract what you put out, love, happiness, and sunshine. You may not have heard any of your children say they wanted to be like you. But I do, I want my children and grandchildren to adore me, like yours. It’s your love that motivates us to be our best, you have only poured love into us, and I appreciate that more than anything in life.

Thank you for the tough love, because it made me stronger. Thank you for tender love, it has taught me patience, acceptance, and understanding.💓💋💋melisa💜

brokenness

Because we are broken we choose broken people who help us to perpetuate the brokenness to a multigenerational level.  We have been socialized and conditioned to withstand breaking.  It has been our normal for so long that we don’t even question the breaking.  We see it everywhere.  It is a part of our history.  We were determined to not break or at least not show our brokenness.

It is my brokenness that has made me whole. The tears in my soul are sewn with the golden thread of Grace. Beautiful scars honor my journey. Breaking open has allowed my soul to evolve to unconditional love for myself.