Category: writing

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

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

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Soul Deep

There has always been something deep inside my soul that has kept me going.  Writing poetry allowed my soul to bleed, my soul spoke to me through the words on the pages.

Sometimes I run across something I’ve written long ago and I don’t remember pouring these words onto the paper.  It is usually profound, honest and deeply moving.

Most of my best poetry has been penned while tears rolled down my face.  When the ache in my heart can’t be expressed verbally or the pain is unbearable writing is the only release for the anguish.

I want to share the gifts I have been given.  Each poem expressed something that my mouth could not utter. Each poem a letting of the painful emotions buried for decades.  Words on a paper are safe, but it is time to share.

May every poem be a balm for another soul. needing to know they are not alone.  Hopefully just knowing that another soul made it over to the other side will encourage other women to start their journey to healing.

love, sex, and abuse

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.

Sweet KARMA

Karma is not a bitch.  Karma is sweet.  Karma is fair.

She will give you what you deserve

and about your feelings she doesn’t care.

She will pay you in love,

If that is what you reap.

sowing seeds of love and positivity.

Will keep you out of the path of Karma’s negative proclivity.

Karma will be your friend,

until you make her your enemy.

Whether you acknowledge her or not

she will bite that ass no doubt

it is an absolute guarantee.

See, me and Karma go way back

to a time when I did not know

or respect

her affect.

I finally woke up when my love debt was past due.

I had burned too many bridges,

so, a reckoning with Karma I had to do

that changed my views.

Everyone will get what they are due.

No matter your hue.

Now,

I love every day my very best,

I am reaping love in abundance cause I let go of judgments,

no more right or wrong.

I am living the moments of my life’s song

I have created a life in love for myself,

my journey is filled with valley blessings.

I am receiving my wealth of love that Karma has dispensed.

by Mozayik “the souls’ poet” © 61917