F.i.in.e Moods

- no worries, I'm fine, I didn't... I suppose I'm trying to analyze it... 

Can't say it's very clear to me

Why I'd draw my own blood

To counter off the moments

Of when it was you who drew

It from me all those years ago.

How does creating pain

To myself, 'cause I'm in pain

From terrifying memories

Taking up the space of now,

Help in any fashion at all?

It's really not clear to me

What all of it is about, but

I'm feeling it could maybe

Be a way to gain control

Over which party's going

To be doing the hurting

In this unwanted moment.

To make it physically visible

Which wounds are throbbing,

And being sure it's not you.

Does that make any sense?

- sorry it's disturbing, something triggered me this morning... doing my best... 

The earliest memory

Is set at preschool age,

But it's very likely

It started much sooner

Even though the frames

Aren't stored for recall.

What's remembered's

A world of immense

Physical pain much worse

Than angry fists on me,

Of intense terror coupled

With total powerlessness.

They were grown men,

Some were family, some

Strangers brought home,

But all had the same

Vicious intentions of

Using my small body.

And they did for years,

Satisfying themselves at

My expense like that's

All a little girl's good for

While I had no choice to

Endure the cruelty 'cause

That's what they wanted.

All beyond words to

Remember, but the one

Thing most unforgettable's

How my tears, my screams

Were the height of pleasure

For them - more the better.

With pins on my belly, or

An assortment of objects,

Or even biting to blood,

There's nothing that

Wasn't done to create,

Extract the most pain.

And that look in their

Eyes, that sadistic smile

On their face, haunt me

Everlastingly to this day...

It makes me shudder

How much satisfaction

There was for these grown

Men about killing a child's

Soul so ruthlessly, so

Willingly and repeatedly...

And today, a simple touch can

Throw me back to those times.

They aren't things you

Can ever get away from.

What's been done's been done,

And the weight to carry it all

Falls on the child so betrayed,

Demolished by their actions.

Wounds like that never heal.

No matter how much talking

You do, there's no way to fix

Such damage for a mind to

Forget or accept, it's just there

Like an unwanted, uninvited

Passenger who'll always stick

By you, like it or not, 'til the end;

It's a punishment that'll last a life...

                                                                                                  May 2022

Dear Diary,

Eight years have passed and still no word...  Wondering why it always falls on me to do the first steps after he's done wrong by me because of his alcoholism.  A previous time had lasted about 10 years until I reached out to him to talk.  Is that how parent-child relationships go on?  Well, he's my step-parent, but to me he was the only father I had.  My biological father, we ran away from when I was eleven, because he was a mentally unstable, violent, alcoholic.  Step-dad wasn't violent, per se, but it wasn't far sometimes because of his drunken states.

He may not like to hear it, but growing up with him was extremely anxiety- and stress-inducing to an extent that had serious consequences on me.  He was ruthless in his verbal attacks when he was in one of those moods.  Between him and my mother, the both of them shot my nerves and my self-confidence to hell.  And quite frankly, the two of them were so caught up in their dramas that it seemed to prevent them from noticing that their daughter wasn't home around all too much at twelve -- all the way up to when she finally left for good before her majority.  They were nowhere to be found.

But I've forgiven him, never gave him much of a hard time on how growing up with him affected me (unlike he constantly did about his own parents).  He had finally quit drinking, so I gave him a chance.  Didn't hold it against him.  I still didn't when he relapsed, which is what led us to the situation from 8 years ago now.  I only expressed concerns about his having started drinking again because he was warned by his doctor when he'd quit that if he continued to drink, it would kill him - his body couldn't take it anymore - seemed important to me as a detail to keep in mind!

I found out that he was drinking again because I was talking with his girlfriend, whom I became close to over the few years they were together.  They were in the process of breaking up, and they were both talking to me about what they were going through.  Of course, I didn't discuss with either of them what each said to me, but the alcohol bit was alarming, I had to say something about that...

But he took that as me taking sides, and ever since, he's not spoken to me.  I feel dropped like I don't matter, really.   Pouring my heart out here, I guess, 'cause he'll certainly not hear it... it's so sore to deeply love people who evidently don't feel that way about you.

There are many parts

That are highly upsetting

About what happened

For you to lash out at me

And drop me as if it was

Justified to respond like this.

The first would have to be

That you're the parent

And you should have a bit

More control over yourself,

Especially in circumstances

When you've screwed up.

The second would be your

Spurious accusation which is

Only a distraction from having

To face your embarrassment

At being found out, and your

Shame you're unable to face.

The third would be that you've

Deflected your attention on me

Making me the bad actor in

This situation you created

When all I did is be there for

Both you and the girlfriend.

The fourth would have to be how

Easy it was for you to go away

From the girl you called daughter

Under such false pretenses you

Don't want to admit to yourself.

For you to put my moral character

Into question, and be satisfied

With such excuses you know

Hold absolutely no water, is so

Disappointing, it's beyond words.

For someone who loves me, you're

So quick to crucify me for nothing.

The fifth, how you're acting like

I did something unacceptable when

I did no such thing, be honest about it.

It's you who went off the deep end,

So of course we would find out.

Yet you didn't hesitate to make me

The bad one in your drama anyway.

And it evidently justified it in your

Head that it's ok to leave me behind.

It's incredible to me how it's always the

Closest and dearest who want to hurt me,

Even though it's never my nature to them.

The final one, how you've hurt me for years,  

And acknowledging it, you struggle with. 

I was there for you, but you made it into

A story of betrayal to satisfy this desperate

Need of yours for avoidance.  It's not me. 

It's you.  And the worst part is, you know it.

- cela me fait autant rire aujourd'hui quand je pense à la mère de mon ami qui m'avait à ce moment fait la demande suivante... bien sérieusement...

Elle :  « Eille !  Ôte la patente d'su'a chose ! »

Moi :  « Euh... hm. »

rough translation...

Precision at Its Best

- it makes me laugh as much today when I think of my friend's mother who had at that moment made the following request of me... very seriously...

Her:  "Hey!  Remove that thingamajig from off the thing!"

Me:  "Uh... hm."

Evidently terrible at first impressions,

Or so close friends later revealed to me

About the first time we came to meet.

Apparently, I'm not too easy to read at first

When you don't know anything about me.

More than likely a protection mechanism

To manage my social phobias, anxieties

That gives off a heightened reserved way

About me; being around people terrifies me.

People getting close to me, and

Starting to find out about me or my life,

Really puts me in a seizing panic mode.

So I guess I do my best to shut myself

Down, not reveal too much on my face,

While the fight or flight storm rages inside.                (Not my true desire, I love people)

Apparently, despite its intensity,

No one can tell it's happening;

I keep that one in check very tightly.                      (No one needs to feel uncomfortable)

But in time, those feelings do wane,

And I become much less guarded, stressed;

I'm told I have a very expressive face

And I'm very, very easy to read then.

Which prompts close friends to tell

Me about the vast difference between

The first times together

And where we're at today.

So evidently, first impressions

Isn't something I can do well.

But in time, when people get to

Know me, they do like me a lot.

I don't know,

I think I resent that,

'Cause it implies

A lot of effort had

To be made in order

To get this result.

Talking about this

Thing people say:

"You've achieved

Breaking the cycle

Of familial violence".

Achieve?  It's not that,

'Cause there was

No effort involved.

None whatsoever.

An achievement?

I don't know, doesn't

Sound quite right.

You have to work at it

To achieve something.

- a 'special' kind of woman manager... 

The manager was giving her a disapproving look

As if she didn't have her priorities too straight,

When all she'd simply asked was to have a few

Hours off so that she could be there for her baby,

Who would be having tubes inserted in his ears

At the hospital.  For some reason, the woman

Deemed it appropriate to counsel her as to how

Very minor the procedure was, saying her child

Would be fine.  Then proceeded to tell her that an

Employee needs to be reasonable in weighing the

Reasons for an absence, and if it's really necessary.

And for some bizarre reason, as if it would support

Her argument, she relayed a story about her own

Child, and how even though he was seriously ill,

She didn't miss work for that - as if that was good.

At that point, a confirmed ass was all she could see,

And no way she'd not be with her baby, so she left.

- maybe it's because I'm ambidextrous, but still seems to me to be unnecessary... 

But why?  It works fine

Using the middle finger

To click around and

Using the index finger

For drop-down menus

Switching the buttons

Around 'cause you're

Using the other hand

Seems quite unnecessary

As it's not awkward at all

To me, feels as some

Right-handed thinking here

Imagining their use of the

Mouse on the 'wrong side'

Surely it's not a leftie's view

just so we're clear on this

of course i know that none

of it is by any means poetry

never been presented as such

i'm not a poet nor a writer

have never had the ambition

like it a lot, but it's as far as it

goes, talent cannot be forced

you have it or you don't

still, i like to put words

together, talented or not

i think it doesn't matter

my goal isn't to impress

or to emulate the greats

it's just something i do

to let my thoughts out

some of the personal

or the general

or the imagined

or the random ones

i also do 'cause of my

own circumstances

it's nice to have eyes

around in some form

so yes, i know

it's not poetry

but is it less

important for it?

- lack of self-confidence can alter your decision-making abilities...

You're exactly right

When you point out

That I'll see the good

In people before any

Bad sides about them.

That's exactly what

Happened between us.

I stuck around longer

Than I should've to see

Your good sides instead

Of trusting my initial

Intuitions about you.

Wonder if you realize it:

Your gripe highlights

Precisely why you and I 

Should've never been.

This 'flaw' did me no

Favors, that's for sure,

You're absolutely right for

This instance, I concede.