For Real This Time

I can only take so much
Before I begin to explode
Trigger points, panic attacks,
And PTSD episodes.
 
After facing trauma,
That involves a serious threat,
A person needs to heal,
Until a certain threshold is met.
 
I wanted to forget about it,
Pretend like it didn’t occur
But before I knew it, I was coping,
In a very unhealthy manner
 
I cut myself on purpose,  
To dull my inner pain,
If anyone knew they would be quick to judge,
And tell me I am insane.
 
I’m having a hard time stopping though,
It has become a lifelong struggle,
I know it’s wrong, yet it feels so right,
The sting from that small red puddle.
 
I tell myself I will stop for real,
After I do it every time.
But then I do it again and again,  
Whenever I’m upset and crying.
 
I feel so very alone,
I’m stuck and I’m oh so scared
In this horrible life I’m living,
And nobody even cares.  

This place is evil,
This place is rotten,  
People hurt little girls and think,
The trauma can be forgotten.

I tried the religion thing,
But that failed also,
Why would He let this happen?
It can’t be in the Gospel.
 
Apparently it’s a sin to cut,
And  can be forgiven,
But what’s the point of confession,
When I probably shouldn’t even be living?
 
My right arm is dripping blood,
And right now I don’t care,
I cry every single night
Because of this real life nightmare.
 
So the razor blade feels alright,
Compared to the internal pain,
Love me, hate me or judge me,
Go ahead and call me insane.
 
But let me tell you one thing,
Sexual intimacy is scary at five and thirteen,
And I bet if it happened to you,
You would also want to scream.
 
I don’t think I actually want to die,
Someday I wanna be something great,
But right now it seems impossible,
To recover from this state
 
This will be the last one,
The scar that serves to remind,
That I am  only human and I was broken.
I’m stopping for real this time.

(Written: July 2009)

——————————

(Continued: July 2015)

Well I stopped for real in January,  
And have healed the human that was broken. 
And yes I do have scars,
But they’re a reminder of courage unspoken.  

I feel blessed to be a survivor, 
My inner self is at ease, 
I chose life instead of death, 
An option my old self wouldn’t have seen. 

Yes I was hurt,  
And I felt like nobody cared. 
But if I learned anything along my journey; 
It’s that, this feeling is often shared. 

We are strength in numbers, 
Yet, we choose to stand alone.  
We’re afraid our feelings are abnormal,
And so we think help could never come.

Truth is help is all around us,
If only we have the courage to share, 
We can then address the pain, 
And remove the feeling of being chased by a bear

It’s a gift to share our story, 
For it creates empathy at its finest, 
A deeper appreciation for life,
And maturity as a young child.

And while yes I have scars that once caused shame, 
Causing people to cringe when they see, 
People can judge all they want, 
My scars demonstrate resiliency.

A resilient choice indeed, 
A woman who let them remain as scars, 
A reminder of the courage in my journey 
Through adversity to the stars.

I will go on to do great things, 
Impacting lives at large, 
In fact, perhaps I’ll even save a life or two, 
Because I’ll dig deeper when I notice their scar.