Until I began therapy and parented the abused, neglected and abandoned little girl in me I was stuck playing victim. It was truly the only role I knew how to play. The only coping skills I actually had were the ones I had when I was raped at five. I would hear people say to me all the time, “stop playing the victim”. Until I worked hard to process those feelings and to unlearn bad coping skills I was doomed to behaving immaturely.
After therapy I have an understanding of self that empowers me to change.
it is, has been and always will be the words that save us,
all of us,
any of us can be affected
by words we speak and the ones spoken to us
I love them so much
with out the words we would not be able to create new realities for ourselves
all of us are essentially the sum total of words we have thought, spoken, written or heard and seen
I heard some words on Sunday that changed my whole perspective
it had a ripple affect
I called my mother and our words helped us heal and reconnect,
but that phone call was the result of many words
along this journey to healing
words have taught me about myself and the world around me
words have shown me where the pathology is rooted
words have given me solutions and testimonies of others
words have inspired courage to continue working on healing
even when the words were to traumatizing to be spoken
except in the heart and mind
words have been gleaned from my sisters
the ones that have chosen to share this part of our journey together
we have spoken the words that have healed and supported
our words have been used to say “I feel you sister”
sometimes those words were spoken with a nod of the head
or a look in the eyes with tears as the only evidence of words
that say, I understand
I will miss my sisters, we have changed together right here in this room
thank you for using your words to help me grow, heal and know I am never alone
there are women who really understand my pain and that heals us all on a lot of levels
let us please continue to use our word to heal
I have been in group therapy since January for childhood sexual abuse. We have only a couple of weeks left. It has been nothing less than grueling WORK. I am blessed to be a part of a group of women sincerely dedicated to healing and moving on to inspire others to heal.
I will miss us and the place we shared the deepest parts of ourselves that had been buried. I am grateful for the safe place at the YWCA Women’s Resource Center. I cant find the words to express my appreciation for the support and guidance received at the center not just from my individual therapist but also for my group therapy facilitator. The biggest contribution to my personal healing though, are the women who were brave and courageous enough to share their words with me through telling their painful stories and their deliberate commitment to healing.
It has been worth it, we are better. We did it and it is one of the most loving things we have done for ourselves and those that are watching and cheering us on so they can believe in the trans-formative power of Understanding self.
I don’t care what anybody ever tells you.
it is the human touch that heals the soul
it is the yearning and craving of touch
that causes us to seek a crutch
I don’t know about you
I have those days
when no matter the waves of sunshine
brought by compliments of others
it is still for me and always will be
the arms of someone who loves me
willing to hold
until my tears bring relief
as I struggle to be whole
I’m not there yet and I can’t afford
to give away my goodness before I know
if you are the one that will hold me
as I repair my soul
please my sweet angel
come hold me so my soul can fly higher
9.24.13 mozayik “the souls’ poet”
Healing is a process and I have stopped forcing the memories back into my subconscious. I am optimistic about my healing, but the truth of it is. I have to cry, I have to remember and that is not easy. Doing it alone sometimes makes me sad because I endured it alone. But, I am comforted by my Angels’ constant presence. In those moments when I feel most alone. I sense my Angel holding me and wiping my tears. She tells me that this will pass and on the other side is relief. She has not lied to me yet. Tears release endorphin’s that make us feel better. I am going to keep moving forward. There is no stopping me now~
If you had told me that I would I be living this free two years ago, I would not have believed you. Two years ago, events happened that triggered my healing. I have post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD is a result of surviving childhood sexual abuse, abandonment, neglect, and rape before the age of five. Five is the age of the first rape memory at the hands of my mothers’ boyfriend.
Writing saved my life. Words were my saviors. This is why I am compelled to tell my story. I do not tell it to gain pity or fame. I tell it because I was born to tell it. So I tell. Everywhere I go I tell.
I want to tell my story of PTSD because most of us do not know what that looks like on an African American girl or woman. The number is many but until we start talking about it, most will suffer in silence, and ignorance. The majority will be miss-diagnosed with a mental illness or written off as just an angry black woman.
Be clear that PTSD is not a mental illness. It is how I respond to stressors in life after some trauma. My brain is wired differently, when it comes to how my body and mind react to stress. Knowledge about this disorder has been the single most important piece of my healing outside of my willingness to heal and therapy. I was able to function in society but the evidence showed up as “angry black woman”. I married, had children, went to school, worked, and to some had a pretty good life but PTSD affected everything. I will talk more about it in my book.
The story was telling me. I was angry and spiteful. Guarded was the aura I wore. I had to wear a mask that made you want to stay away from me. It served me well as a child but, as an adult, it robbed me of everything good. As a child, it kept me safe. If I came across as angry and hard then you could not interact with me. You just left me alone and that was how I controlled my environment. Of course, all of what I know about how I used to be is the result of a lot of therapy and my soul’s persistence to heal itself. I say used to because I have worked hard to change. I am not that woman any longer.
I am who I always knew I could be. I did not have the tools to let her live but I always knew there was a beautiful sweet woman inside of me.
I want to tell you, whoever may be reading this and experienced similar trauma that you can make it. You are a survivor and you will thrive. I know you feel like you will never be happy. I know you feel the weight of all that has happened to you. You get tired of trying to be happy. I know you are tired of people telling you to “get over it”. I know you want to be over it so badly it hurts.
You may have even learned, as I did, to give the appearance that you are okay. Believe me I know that feeling of being two different people. You have the functional face and energy that has served to get you through until this day. However, you also have that little child inside that needs nurturing. She needs rescuing and you know you are the only one to save her but you feel like you don’t have enough to even save yourself. I am telling you that you can and will heal.
It really does get better. Like I say in my poem “survivor” whatever it took to get you through until this day, it will take you further. You are not what you are feeling. You are strong and courageous. If you are reading these words that means you survived and now you can choose to do the work and start to thrive. https://thesoulspoet.wordpress.com/2011/03/31/survivor/
I know it f***ing sucks that you have to heal yourself. You did not do this shit to yourself. I look at it like this I had two choices. I could stay in pain or I could heal. Either way, I am in pain. So, I told myself if others said they made it over to the other side of healing then I am going to try it. It is true that the day will come when healing is the only choice you really have because the alternative has become unbearable. Trust that your body and mind know when the time is right. If you are suffering, it is time.
The most loving thing I have ever done for myself is do my work in therapy. I swear there have been days when the fear of healing took my breath away. My mind hid those things away to protect me until I could fully comprehend what happened and go through the healing process.
It has really become a spiritual journey for me because I know that my personality is only the tool my soul uses to heal itself and everything that has happened to me was for the elevation of my soul. Looking at it in this manner does not lessen the pain it just helps me to accept it as a necessary part of my journey. I hope my words have helped. My purpose is to use my words to help.
Mozayik “the souls’ poet”
- “Newyorican Girl” author: taking the stigma out of sexual abuse, PTSD (nbclatino.com)
- What Works for PTSD (23andme.com)
Most of childhood was hidden from me in the recesses of my mind, waiting on my soul’s readiness to heal from rape. Only now as I stay committed to therapy by any means necessary are the good memories starting to surface after excavating through the dirty images my mind knew I was not ready to see.
It is not coincidental that my mind, body, and soul have chosen this time for my healing. School has always been my hiding place. My sanctuary is my mind. As a child at eight, I remember walking alone to the library to check out books because I could hide in them. By the time I was nine I had read the entire Child-craft Collection of 24 books cover to cover. Safety was found in the worlds I could transcend to with my book. Words were my toys. I could use them to create whatever reality I chose.
I am finding solace in my schoolbooks now. They provide an anchor for me. I can find my self-esteem in challenging my mind. No one can go inside my head and take away my knowledge.
I feel my grandmothers’ presence. They are always in my mind. I hear them telling me I am smart. Pretty was not important but smart would save me. They protected me, nurtured me, and sheltered me with love.
I am filled with so much joy from the memories of Nesie with her grandmothers, HAPPY.
As long as I was sitting on the porch at their feet it did not matter if it was day or night
I knew I would be all right.
They were the ones that rescued me and took me home.
They filled up all the little holes in my heart
even though their love always leaked out.
They never grew tired of filling me up.
by mozayik “the souls’ poet”