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.
All six of my children have been detrimentally affected by the lies told, and their potential robbed by the rapists in our family. It is 2022 and more lies are being revealed.
My goal is to leave a record of the truth. I am determined that my linage will know the truth, I will continue to trust the guidance of my ancestors to lay a foundation that is built on the truth however brutal. There is still more to do. But the healing for our ancestors is continuing as we dig deeper and pull up the rotten roots to repair the damage.
I wrote this poem in January, 1999 for the brother we lost to alcoholism. He was 36. Now 2011 we could lose another brother to alcoholism. He just turned 37. They both drank for the same reasons but we pretend it is not happening. We are as Sick as our Secrets and ours are killing us.
I am grateful for the work I started in 2011 by committing to therapy. I am continuing with creating the family tree on ancestry and getting my DNA analyzed.
finally brother you can rest
in this world you no longer stay
we must accept that god
has taken you away
no longer do you plead for love
from a world grown cold
we did not get to see you grow old
but now you are free
you don’t have to hurt any more
finally brother you can rest
no need to cry or feel blue
one day we will join you
your soul has taken flight
you are smiling at the sight
of angels welcoming you
into peace, finally brother, rest
01/1999 by mozayik
Silence is deadly. We may be silent but our sick secrets are exposed for all to see. When a man drinks himself to death it is not happenstance. Some of us use drink, food, drugs or sex to abuse or addiction. It is self medicating to ease PAIN.
For the last week or so I have been contemplating why my family continues to pretend everything is okay. Another brother will be lost if we continue to sweep things under the rug. I feel so helpless to save him. I don’t think I can look anyone in the eyes again without saying “we have to stop this shit now”.
I want to ask my mother “How long will you continue to lie? How many of us have to die? Free us and tell the truth, please.”
I am tired of the superficial relationships. If we are not free to speak our truth in love then it is all a waste of time. There was a time when all I wanted was revenge. I was hurting, so I wanted the “perpetrators” to hurt. That position did not serve me well and the poison of anger was killing me. Once I sought my own healing I saw things differently.
My only motive now is to facilitate healing and stop others from being hurt.
Only LOVE can heal us. I realize that people have reasons why they do the things they do. The people who hurt us have been harmed by someone and the vicious cycle is repeated over and over because of silence. I am telling my story. I refuse to be quiet.
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.
I feel compelled to share this. When I was 16 I had Agoraphobia. I could not even open my front door and step less than 4 feet to get the mail out of the mailbox. I understand now that Agoraphobia is what was going on. I don’t know how I overcame it but I do remember doing some breathing and meditation techniques I learned from a psychology book I had checked out of the school library.
This is why I say that our soul knows what we need to heal.
I don’t believe that I am any different than anyone else. I believe we all have it within us to thrive. But, just in case I was called out to learn so that I can teach. I am sharing this with you in hopes there is someone that needs this information, You can heal, you can transcend the pain. It sucks that you have to do it and sometimes you have to do it alone but God is always with you. In your soul are all the answers.
Lately, I have had a very hard time leaving my apartment. This Pandemic, the politics of the pandemic, the protests, the continuous news loops of people that look like me being murdered in cold blood, the politics, and again the politics has been going on for so long. I will be 60 soon and I have seen it all before. There is something different this time.
I am a baby boomer so it is a beautiful sight to see our grandchildren leading the way to justice for all.
There are no instructions as to how to navigate through this except the most simplistic of all and that is the basics of washing hands, staying at least 6 away, and wear a mask. We all are finding a new normal.
I plan to make it out alive and thriving.
God is the source and strength of my life. God removes all pain, misery, and strife. God promised to keep me and never leave me. God has always been my provider, my way maker, and my comfort.
Be encouraged whoever you are that needed to know that this too shall pass and God got you just like all the times before.
🙌🦋👑#GirlGotSomeHelp #MeAndGodWeGotThis
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 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
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.
The Souls' Poet 