Tragically Invisibly Beautiful

I hate how I have to censor the word on social media when I talk about my experience.  I hate how when I report messages with threats of rape, the response is to suggest that I block them. Not to revoke their access, or to invoke actual consequences.  I hate how the burden and the responsibility falls back on us. On the victims. On the survivors. 

I tell you that I was hurt. You tell me that you did your best. Why was I expected to apologize when I was doing my best, but you don’t have to? You can just say that you did your best and I’m supposed to accept that. My best wasn’t acceptable, but yours was.

No one talks about how difficult it is to realize that you grew up too fast. How you had to learn to parent yourself when you were just a child. How you had to learn that you had to rely on yourself because you couldn’t rely on your parents.

My heart breaks for the child inside you who wasn’t taught that emotions are ok. But my heart also breaks for the child inside me who wasn’t taught that emotions are ok.

Asking me to come to the conversation with love and understanding is no longer possible when the person in that conversation has afforded me none of that. I cannot have a conversation with someone that refuses to take accountability for their actions. I have bent over backwards to try to out myself in the other person’s shoes. I have sacrificed my own well being and my own feelings in order to…

Daily writing promptAre you holding a grudge? About?View all responses Is it a grudge? Or is it finally standing up for yourself and refusing to diminish yourself and the way you’ve been treated in order to appease others?

Sometimes I wish I could scrub my insides out with the most abrasive brush, But even that wouldn’t get rid of this feeling.  I need to be burnt to ash, and reborn.  And even then, that might not be enough to erase the feeling from my body.  My body knows. It remembers you. 

You think you can hurt me? I told my father I was raped, and instead of offering any type of understanding or empathy, He made it about himself 

You said “you can tell me anything” But what you meant was “you should tell me everything”

Being a man doesn’t mean you have to hide your emotions. Being a man doesn’t mean you have to act tough and spout threats of violence. Being a man means that you can show your emotions, be open with your partner, friends and family. It means realizing that the patriarchy hurt you too.

It must be unsettling for you, to have a daughter who questions everything you were taught to be as a man.

When I would come to you because I was in distress, you would tell me that I was fine.  When I would tell you I was upset, you would tell me that it wasn’t a big deal.  I learned to second guess my feelings and my intuition.  When I got older, I stopped telling you how I was feeling.  When I was upset and scared, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal.  When I woke up screaming because of…

The most dangerous thing for the patriarchy is a daughter who questions everything.

Before I tell you my secrets, my stories, I have to spend weeks, months or years building my armour. Building my walls. They have to be impenetrable because they need to keep out your reactions. Sharing is supposed to make us closer, but sharing only shows our distance. I have to put my own feelings aside to deal with yours, because you can’t deal with them yourself. How is that fair? I’m…

You taught me that my feelings didn’t matter. You taught me that I was feeling too much. You taught me that unless it’s physical, I need to shove it down. and so I did. and so I didn’t report my rape because I didn’t have any bruises on my skin. I didn’t realize that the bruises were inside me.

How easy it is to become a poet when your soul is broken and your heart is filled with pain.