No Is Never Enough (Previously published “With All The Lies, Who Am I?”)

Being ignored as a child, I wasn’t taught anything that I was supposed to have been. Instead I learned how to lie to cover my butt and save myself a beating. As I grew a little older, it just became ingrained.  I would make up things to explain why something was broken, or missing, or just not satisfactory to my mother.

I do believe that she never had one good thing to say about any of my accomplishments.  I wasn’t real at times like this.  I used to perform music at school concerts. Band, choir, duets, solos, even playing the piano, which she didn’t know I could do.  She was always there because she had to take me there.  But she never said a word about it at any time after.

I felt I didn’t do it well enough.  I wasn’t good enough, and that’s why she didn’t like me.  I learned that at a very young age, but just existed in a world where all these people around me (only in school) didn’t like me either.  I was smart and they didn’t like that.

But one thing that really stands out today, is how I was never allowed to be sick.  She had to admit that I was sick when I came home from Kindergarten with Chicken Pox.  So I missed some school due to that.  Once I was well again, I never stayed at home, no matter how sick I felt.  I had a running total of perfect attendance at school, right up until my Senior year, when my parents and I got stranded in a blizzard and no one was allowed to be on the roads for any reason.

The police took us to the Salvation Army, who took us to this rickety, old hotel, where people actually lived.  There was one room for the three of us.  We spent 4 or 5 days there, I can’t remember for sure, but for me it was pure hell.  But that broke my perfect attendance record.

Now she’s gone and I can go out if I want to, or I can stay home if I want to.  I still feel guilty, though, if I don’t go somewhere that I was supposed to go.  I have to make up a story as to why I wasn’t going.  My reasons were never good enough.  Sometimes I went anyway, because of the guilt I was feeling.  But I’m still never good enough. And just saying “no” is never enough…

~ van ~

Another Year, But Different Resolutions

New Year’s resolutions are difficult. Sometimes I set my goals too high, and end up failing, at least that’s how I feel about not meeting my goals. I’d never thought about making resolutions about my blog before, but then…why not?

What can I do to set resolutions for, that I can actually dedicate myself to doing with my blog? I am a sporadic writer at best, but I’ve been told that my writing is very powerful, due to the way I write about my subject matter, which stems from childhood sexual abuse.

I’m thinking that if people are reading my posts, and getting something from them, why don’t I try to reach more people that could benefit from my writing? How would I do that?

I don’t like to judge my blog by statistics, or followers, or number of clicks. That is why I rarely look at my statistics. I look at the comments, at what people actually think about my posts. So, if I try to reach more people that might benefit from my writing, I think I should look around and see what is out there. What I can read, what I can learn from it, and how can I help others to deal with such issues as I am?

I want to make one resolution to take a look at my Reader every day, see who is out there and what they are writing. The benefits can be two-fold. One, I can enrich my blog by learning from others, and two, I may be able to find others who could benefit from my writing. So that is resolution number 1.

My second resolution would be to interact with my readers, and those whose posts I read. This will give me ideas about how to write my posts so that they reach more people. I could do this by commenting more, rather than just ‘liking’ a post. Another way would be to visit the blogs of my readers, see where they are coming from and maybe make more friends that have similar interests, but also interests far different from the things I look at every day. So resolution #2 is to interact with my readers through commenting and looking at their sites.

My third resolution is to look more deeply into myself, find out what else might be in there that I can pull out and put into words. Resolution #3 is for introspection into my own abuse, and how it has shaped and continues to shape my life.

These seem maybe a little lofty for me, but they are something to try to attain, even if I only reach one new person a month, or learn one new thing about myself this year.

Those are my three blogging resolutions for 2016.

What’s Hidden In My Soul

On The EdgeI look inside,
But all I see,
Things that hide,
Even from me.
But as I get prodded,
They slowly  rise,
Things have been hidden,
From prying eyes.
Long ago, I learned how,
To shove them ever so deep,
Deeper than they even know,
Secrets I still want to keep.
But now in these new days,
I’m starting to let go,
Things no longer my ways,
But ways that start to show.
My world now seems upside down,
Not sure which way I’ll go.
Those who push, make me frown,
How far even I don’t know.
Today is a brand new day,
Another day to start,
To start with a brand new way,
To feel what’s in my heart.

Fear Of Fears

The sink is dripping in the kitchen.

Plop, plop, plop.

I try to ignore it again,

But it just won’t stop!

It’s constantly there,

Within my ears

On its way to my brain,

And let loose all my fears,

Fear that people will say no,

Fear that they just walk away,

Fear that they will go,

And tell all, the things I’d say

Fear they’ll tell everyone,

All the things that I have done,

Fear of being me,

For all the world to see.

For all the world to see.

– van –

Drips and Drops

Drips and drops, as the rain plops,
Against the glass of my window.
There is no rhyme or reason,
No pattern to tap my toe to.

Just drop after drop, when will it stop?
I did not know it would rain tonight.
Now with each and every drop,
Exists an inner fright.

The sound makes me cold inside,
Reminds me of that room.
Tucked back in the corner of the house.
His shadow would suddenly loom.

The monster I feared on that rainy night,
Which filled me full of fright,
Was not some odd, old stranger,
But a monster I saw every night.

I remember the boxer shorts,
And an old white undershirt.
But then mind shuts down on this,
To protect me from the fright.

He loomed there in the night,
Filling me full of fright.

– van –

Hide It In The Closet

Wall Closet
Wall Closet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Quick, shove it in, close the door,
Make sure it’s closed up tight,
Have to keep that little tidbit,
Closed up and out of sight.

If anyone were to see within,
Their minds would be the same,
That girl is filled with sin,
Don’t ever say her name.

If you were to say the name,
Then you might get caught as well.
Breaking the rules set forth all the same,
That place where none wants to go.

Hide your eyes, cover your ears,
Lest you be taken in,
By all the things behind the door,
That all still think is sin.

– van –

A Week of Competition

The trip that took me far away,
On a warm and sunny day,
Was for a week of wheelchair games,
With others who helped to serve and save.

Racing chairs with those minus limbs,
Only caused me to look within,
One who never could behave,
Wounded as I was,

Went to serve and save,
But is anything just?
My mind messed up so long ago,
With no place to turn or go,

Poured myself into a bottle,
All I wanted was to throttle.
The one who caused my inner pain,
But I was taken far away,

So I could serve my country,
But took that bottle along with me.
Sad to say, my service cut short,
Because of feelings I couldn’t abort.

The bottle turned me into someone,
I never wanted to be,
When I left them, my job undone,
Yet I still could not see,

What really caused the pain in me.
It happened oh, so long ago,
I couldn’t run away,
From something I could not let go,

He gave to me to stay.
Feelings of blame and shame,
For I was the one who didn’t say,
Stop, for he’s to blame.

A future planned when I was young,
All the things I could have done,
Was all just washed far away,
Drink after drink, day after day.

I served with those who deserve the honor,
To be called disabled vets,
Yet I still feel still so minor,
Not ready to really compete, quite yet,

But still go through the motions,
Winning game by game,
Competing with those who in some way paid,
These games were meant to bring new life,

For those who were wounded,
And no longer wanted to try,
All our dreams have been drained dry,
Wounded without,

Wounded within,
Yet we all get together and try,
To feel alive again.
The games I won,

But life I lost,
Due to the one,
I hate the most.

– van –