Intimidation

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I nearly stumbled down the grassy hill after Theresa punched me in the stomach. My left arm struggled to hold on to the books in the crook of my elbow. The right one, swinging free, hung limp. It seemed the fear was more significant than my humiliation. I couldn’t fight back.

Theresa’s rage quickly turned towards my sister. For just a moment, I felt relief that I wasn’t her target anymore. But I did nothing to stop what was coming. My sister had her ponytail pulled so hard; I could see the redness of her scalp and little spots of blood from the ripped out hair. Still scared, I knew this aggression was far from over. The sinking feeling in my stomach was causing havoc on all the nerves in my body. I wished so hard not to be there anymore.

Why were we being attacked? What is it I was supposed to have done to Theresa for this aggression towards my sister and myself? I was so confused. I was scared too. So scared.

Theresa turned around to me again with a look that backed me way down into myself. She threatened my life, and I believed her. Then she slammed her open right hand so hard up against the left side of my head, leaving me with nothing but loud ringing in that ear. It was surreal. The left side of my whole body felt numb and on fire at the same time, while the right side was still part of the ordinary world. She glared at me as we both precariously stood on the hill. She’d braced herself into the hill, and I’d leaned slightly back, securing a foothold in the grass. I remember hearing her mumblings in my head after a bit, but for the life of me, not one sentence in my mind was coherent. I still can’t remember what she said or what I replied. Whatever it was that I uttered, the words seemed to appease her. I’d managed a reprieve for myself and my sister. Our tormentor finally left us alone and walked away.

I can still remember the colors of the grass. And the everydayness of that regular walk to the house. The smell of the wind wasn’t meaningful, and nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all just so average. In a second, all that changed to me becoming a bruised emotional wreck along with my sister. That afternoon was awful. Bathed in fear, I was feeling about as small as anyone could get. But I remember still being happy to have walked away relatively unscathed. This attack happened, for no reason other than Theresa had a bad day. She was a bully, and we were her targets du jour. We happened to cross paths with her on the way home from school — lucky us being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In looking back, I realized courage was lacking in me that day. Self-preservation was the instinct on that hill. But it stirred a resolve in me. I wasn’t going to back down anymore. I realized I shouldn’t be afraid to stand against anyone who would seek to harm me or anyone else who was vulnerable. I wasn’t going to be intimidated anymore.

Camouflaged Love

love hate

The hate
it comes in waves
you think that’s all there is
there’s more…

Underneath the hate
is a love aching to be healed
able to love again
deeply        better next time

I buried my love for you
you pushed it deeper
and away from sight
waiting for a rebirth

Is it possible to love again
after so much pain
will I choose it
or continue with my hate

Achingly slow is the healing process
one justified reason after another
makes me take my time
to resolve this pain

*Originally published on PhiloSusi 7/6/2015. Reposted with revisions.

Whispering Gratitude

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one last time
a slow stroll
rising up the stairs
feeling the worn railing
under my hands
gliding on the smoothness
of years waxed
with the oils of progeny

peering into the empty bedrooms
faintly hearing the cacophony
of my giggling girls
from ancient slumber parties
the distant laughter
echoing in the corners
what the walls have heard
of childhood secrets

turning to the future
gently placing one foot
down in front of the other
thank you, safe haven
i’ll treasure the memories
as one last sigh escapes
and one tear travels down
i say goodbye

 

 

I Won’t Tell You “I Told You So”

*deep sorrowful sigh

I’m sorry. So, so sorry. 

I didn’t succeed in saving you from your fate.

You’re broken now. The trust is gone, and so are your reserves. Your faith in love is shattered. It seems utterly unbelievable to have made it to this place of darkness. But you’re here now… and I’m hurting with you, dearest.

Oh pain, please just go away! Leave him alone. The agony is too much for tender shoulders to bear. Ease up… I beg you.

You’ll get through this, people say. It doesn’t feel like that when you’re in the thick of it though. But know this… I’m here till the tears stop rolling, the deep ache subsides and the reality of moving on alone becomes easier to accept. Whatever you need, love… I promise.

I’m here for you. Always.

*Originally published on PhiloSusi 4/17/16

My Inheritance

mutti

A lifetime of difficulties landed hard.
Years of sadness, extremes, and bullshit highs.
Insecurities abounded and chaos prevailed.
Welcome to my world.

I was educated on “What will the people think?” stability.
Happy, healthy home – yeah, that was an illusion.
Inconsistent love led to inward rage,
me only always wanting to run away.

Her generation’s dysfunction and the ones before were handed down.
The family poison designed to slowly kill your mind over time.
But she never counted on me fighting hard for my sanity.
I wouldn’t accept this lame gift fraught with pain.

So I cut ties and let her go.
It helped to put up clearly marked boundaries.
I could finally breathe.
I rose above the insanity to find my peace.

Then she died.
The drama spanning generations ceased.
My inheritance was freedom.
Something she never experienced.