A letter to survivors
https://thesoulspoet.com/2016/10/24/a-letter-to-survivors-it-never-gets-old/
— Read on thesoulspoet.com/2016/10/24/a-letter-to-survivors-it-never-gets-old/
A necessary post. Sending gentle hugs to all those strong enough to ask for help.
I was torn between being a good Christian and a good citizen.
Wanting to please God but needing to protect myself.
That was the dichotomy of my faith.
“If he wants you the bible says you must stay until he doesn’t.”
My faith was being tested, that is what pastor said.
My question to pastor?
How do you love someone that has left you black and blue?
How do you love the you that allows the abuse?
Mama said shame on you if let them hit you twice,
the first time should be enough.
Mama never talked about the fight or flight into myself.
In my crib I was programmed for trauma bonding.
I became addicted to the rush of chemicals from my own brain
as she participated in the disdain of herself
only to allow it to happen again.
I was wired to repeat the cycle of pain
God forgives
But a price must still be paid for the abuse.
Charges should be brought against all perpetrators.
The pain they cause not only break our hearts,
it leaves a stain upon our image of self.
Now we understand.
We can get some help.
#GirlGetYouSomeHelp
By Zuri Savage
8.8.2021.10.13a
I had a panic attack. I was afraid to leave my apartment. I cried, I prayed and I grabbed my box cutter, mace, gloves, mask and sanitizing wipes. I reminded myself that “I AM NOT MY FEELINGS” I went out and got my medicine because no one was coming to save me. I prayed that I would not be stopped by the police because they may not understand that I had to take the weapons to protect myself. They may think that I mean to harm them or they may use it as an excuse to kill me. All kinds of thoughts run through your head when you are a black woman living alone with ptsd.
I look back on 2020 and know that it was God that I held on to me, otherwise I never would have made it. I would have lost my mind, y’all know the rest of the song.
Thank God for therapy or else I probably would have just lay there and kept crying. This pandemic, the isolation, losing people that I love, and living alone with the constant uncertainty is starting to get to me. I am just keeping it real.
Crying helped me to release my emotions because I know that I am not my feelings so the sooner I face the fear and let it go the better.
BUT, I am exhausted from the unrelenting battle with fear. I am not paranoid. I have valid reasons to be afraid to step outside my front door. I was brutally beaten in the streets in July. I saw the man in my neighborhood again and he recognized me.
I came here to live because I was fleeing a domestically violent partner. I was unemployed and living in my daughters basement. They were the first people to give me a lease. I figured I would get in and get out but I had no idea what was about to happen.
I have been trying to move but the manager where I live is a Narcissistic a-hole that has it in for me because I wanted to start a tenant associations to address the horrific conditions she expects people to live in.
One example is allowing raw sewage to run through the parking lot while people walked through it and took it back into the buildings during the Coronavirus Pandemic. I reported it and forced her hand with other things so every time I apply somewhere else she lies and says that I have bogus lease violations. It is a very long story.
I have a good job and I don’t want to live here anymore but she thinks she is making good on her threat that if I sue her “I wont have any place to live.” God is still in control though especially since I have done nothing wrong by trying to help improve our living conditions.
I know that I am not the only one going through things. I am just telling my little story. I am tired of Covid-19, tired of racism, tired of white people not getting, that, WE BEEN TIRED. Tired of fighting for the basic right to feel like I matter.
We are supposed to be celebrating the legacy of Dr. King but now we live in a world where Hatred is at an all-time high. It is all very disheartening. I know I will survive. I always do, but I need a f***ing break.
triggering event
flash back to the past
reliving as child
helplessness learned
feels familiar
even if abnormal
sometimes alone is safer but inflicts more pain
and the cycle repeats again and again
running
looking for rescue
anybody will do
just so i can make you love me
hate me
leave me
abuse me
so, I can make true
nobody loves me
isn’t that what you did to me
because it was done to you
so, we are stuck in this maze of abuse
today though, I’m really freaking tired of everyday being about you
I’m still running away while clinging to you
I don’t know how to separate me from you
yvette mozayik circa 2017
this poem fell onto the paper like most
#DomesticViolenceAwarenessMonth
#GirlGetYouSomeHelp
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.
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
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”.
I kept recreating the scenario where they would leave because I pushed them away and then I could cry victim that they left. I wanted them to come back and love me the way I deserved.
Childhood Emotional Neglect sent me a powerful, subliminal message that my feelings didn’t matter.
I kept looking for the unconditional love that only a mother could give. Now I know though that even mothers can’t give that kind of love sometimes. That is the biggest myth of motherhood. All mothers don’t love their babies because some don’t know how. Some mothers know but lack the resources and support. I was pregnant at 16. I married at 17. I escaped that marriage at 18 with three children. By 19 I was depressed, dealing with PTSD from childhood sexual abuse, neglect, and poverty. The only real support I had was my disabled grandmother.
We are designed to benefit from the experience of loving nurturing touch. If you don’t get that as a child, you will search everywhere to find it. I was sexualized and raped at 5, I believed sex was love.
I subconsciously chose situations that felt familiar to me. My toxic environment had shaped me. My mother’s violent relationships were what I was born into. The cycle was intrinsically wired into my brain. They would love each other one minute and the next they were fighting and then they would fuck. It was like that for her entire life.
Subconsciously this is all I knew about relationships. Studies have proven that the first 6 years of a child’s life is when they are the most impressionable. What children learn about the world during this time will be what is subconsciously their default. This is one reason I kept choosing the same people.
I was hoping for a different outcome with each lover but doing the same things I had been programmed to do over and over.
The marvelous thing about a brain is we can rewire it; we can create another default. That is what I am taking the time to do my next level of healing. I am not taking time to grieve over something that was not good for me. That is wasted energy. I see the issue and I understand the why, I know how to fix the issue.
Now my time will be spent being grateful for today. I survived. I have learned. There is some undoing that needs to be done but I am able.
I don’t need another project. No more goals will be set at this time. I just want to slow down and be with the love inside of me. I just want to sit and think about whatever pops into my head. I want to read the books I have on my TO Read LIST. I want to get lost in some sexy Fiction.
It is time for a reset. All my circuits will be busy just loving life and enjoying this big family that God gave to me. I have really accomplished a lot in my 50+ years on this earth. I measure my accomplishments by how many people’s lives have been affected in a positive way by anything I have shared about my healing journey.
As a little girl, I asked God to use me to help somebody so my living would not be in vain. It is time for Release.
It is very humbling when sitting with the consequences of choices made. I have really been wrestling with some stuff that was really starting to win the battle to take me under.
If I am acting weird that means I need you.
I know that when we have a family member that we don’t understand it can be hard to love them. Sometimes our loved ones may act strange. Similar to what I have been going through, I had so much anxiety that it was literally consuming me.
Truth has a bitter sting.
I am feeling better having accepted some hard truths. I was guilt-tripping myself so badly, I was whipping my own ass. I really was not comfortable in my own skin because I was dealing with shame. In order to be truly free of baggage, garbage or just some negative stuff, that was haunting me, I had to face it head-on. I am so very grateful that I never felt that God had left me or that I would not be delivered.
I was dealing with some depression, but I knew it was situational, it was hard. Growth hurts and if somebody says they grew and didn’t shed some tears or feel any emotional pain and probably some physical pain, they are lying and the truth ain’t in them as my grandmother would say.
I thank God for my free therapy. I thank God for all of the people that have poured into me as I struggled with my truths.
I wanted to run and yes it was overwhelming at times, but I trust the process and I tapped into my support system. I came out on the other side better able to reclaim my freedom.
Look y’all I am passionate about mental illness, mental health, and intimate partner violence as well as childhood sexual trauma because I struggle every day with these issues. PTSD is no joke and part of it is anxiety and depression. I believe we are slowing waking up to the importance of the mind being healthy. We are starting to see the mind-body connection and that everything really is everything. I am grateful for the education I have received through therapy and my own curious passion. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has used and will continue to use me to save lives by telling my truth so that they can be encouraged to heal.
I was so very angry at myself. I felt like a failure. I felt like I had let myself down. I was disappointed in myself. But where is the lesson if I did not stop and acknowledge that the truth is, I still have some more healing to do.
The shame, disappointment, and fear of losing the image I had of myself was being challenged and I was seeing the places that needed some light and love. I had to do it with just me and God. I had to have that positive funk experience.
Once I saw the silver lining, I was good. I had my ah-ha sigh of relief. Once I gleaned something that increases my understanding of myself and others, it is time for celebration. I Celebrate that I did make it over to the other side of depression. I did cope with anxiety. With help from my friends, and family, even my Facebook, Instagram and my blog flowers support me with good energy and encouraging words.
My longtime friends keep me grounded with the truth. I don’t want to go through that again. It had been years since I have felt depressed. The whole time in Phoenix I did not get depressed but I did have some anxiety, but the sunshine and blue skies were right outside my door and art, music and education were everywhere. God provided my every need in a City where I really didn’t know anyone. But it was time to take another layer off the onion of healing. So I was led to come home and I am so happy that I did. I have no regrets.
I heal out loud so that other women don’t have to die by silence.
I dwell in Truth’s freedom.
Mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’ 9.5.19.12.02
The Souls' Poet 