I am a survivor of extremely severe ritualistic childhood abuse and sadistic systematic torture. Without God's intervention in my life I wouldn't be here - NOW is the time for me to tell MY story by speaking the TRUTH about MY life. I will be silenced no more! On this blog I share MY life, MY healing journey; helpful quotes/stuff I come across and MY thoughts along the way. The more I speak out the more liberated I am from the shame and trauma of the abuse. My broken wings are gradually being restored. This blog has helped me begin to get my voice back and documents the journey God is taking me on to heal me from the trauma and damage caused by that most appalling abuse.

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

POEM - MUM

This is Fiona calling, the daughter that you disowned

I’ve got a few questions to ask you, not out of spite but

To try to make sense of you, me, all of us, what happened

You’re not going to like the questions I’m about to ask

But I have just got to ask them, I don’t mean to hurt you

I just want to, no, need to, ask because I am hurting

And confused and trying to pick up the myriad of pieces

Of my life, put them together, so I can heal and move on

You know you always said I wasn’t wanted and was an accident

Then why did you go full term with the pregnancy huh?

I’m sorry I wasn’t up to expectations, but I didn’t have any say

About whether I turned out to be a boy or a girl

I reckon all that time in the sick baby unit, us separated

Had an awful lot to do with the fact we never bonded

But it isn’t just that we didn’t bond, it’s more than that

You seemed to hate me, resent me, right from the beginning

Why were you so consistently violent towards me, your child?

Why did you constantly criticise me and undermine me?

Why could you never compliment me or encourage me?

Why did you constantly tell me I’d never do, be, or achieve anything?

Do you realise you never allowed me to get a sense of self worth?

Why were you never gentle with me? You were so rough and hard

I couldn’t ever do or say or be anything to please you

How could you lie in bed in the next room hearing and ignoring

My screams and crying every night as dad raped me, oh and the rest?

And then that Christmas when you did intervene, why oh why

Did you side with dad and blame me? You just didn’t realise or

Seem to understand that I didn’t ask for it, go looking for it

I had no control over all those things which dad did to me

I was only a child, nine years old when he first raped me

And nearly twelve when you stopped it, not even into my teens, and then

For the next eight years you tortured me till you beat me up and kicked me out

Every time something happened it was always my fault and I’d get a beating

Those kangaroo courts you held, where you were both judge and jury

And me standing in the middle of the room terrified and exposed

You sat on the end of the sofa by the wall, dad on the side chair, and Stu sent

Upstairs because ‘what was about to happen was too distressing for him to witness’

Yes your words; I was always guilty, I had no say in my defence, none to speak for me

And the punishment always the same too, need I remind you? So humiliating

To be stripped and have to stand there while you laughed and laughed

Then you sat and watched my humiliation, laughing as you told dad

Where and how hard to hit me, and what to use to hit me with

It was never hard enough, but was always harder, harder, oh

The humiliation you put me through, you know I always felt

That you were punishing me for what happened between me and dad

It wasn’t just the humiliation, but the pain of those deliberate hits

Yet not once was I allowed to cry out or to ask you to stop . . and if I did

You just made it far far worse for me, it was planned, systematic

How could you be so cruel to your own flesh and blood?

How could you be so inhuman and uncaring for your own child?

How could you go to church each week and be so pious and righteous

How could you go and tell all those lies to all who asked after my welfare?

How could you teach other kids and be nice to them, then be go home and be

Cruel to your own? How could you even pretend to call yourself a mother?

How could you be so interesting in covering your own tracks by humiliating me?

How could you abuse, violate, humiliate, beat up, torture and then disown me?

I am and have always been, in name, your child, your daughter

All I ever wanted, needed, was your love, your affirmation, your acceptance

But yet that love, affirmation and acceptance were the very things

That you seemed totally and completely unwilling to give me, your daughter

Why did you hate me so much? Was I really that much of a bother?

What happened to you to make you so unwilling to love, so hard, so cruel?

Why is it that you seem to have to control, and be in control of everyone

You come into contact with? Don’t you realise how destructive it is?

I am flesh of your flesh, we belong to each other you know, like it or not

I am your daughter, your child, I do exist, contrary to your words when

You kicked me out. All I ever needed was your love, affirmation and support

All I ever needed was to belong, but you rejected me, but yet at the same time

That you were incapable of those things, you were very very capable of

Cruelty, violence, humiliation, blame shifting, scape goating, and the rest

It’s too much to ask of you to love me now, too much has passed between us

But I sure would be grateful for some answers one day, if that’s not too much to ask

14th April 1998

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Again and again, thank you Fi. Thank you for asking these questions. Questions that roll around in the head when there is no sense in these acts.

Our minds are always trying to find "sense" in the things that make no sense. One time I had a counselor say to me, "Stop trying to make sense out of nonsense." And for some reason that very statement shook me loose from some hindrances in my own life, because truly I was trying to make sense out of abusive acts that had happened to me. And then a peace came over me . . . and the answer came . . . there is "no" sense in any of it. Only destructive acts being done against others who can not defend themselves, and there is "no" sense in that! A freedom came to me that I will forever be grateful for . . . because my questions were finally answered.

Fi, you are wiling and able to share your questions, the questions that the "abused" always ask themselves . . .
thank you for touching my life with your words, your honest questions, your testimony of pain and terror . . . you remind me once again of how truly God delivers us all out of lives of pain and sorrow into the abundant and glorious and loving LIFE of Christ!! He truly is the God that saves, heals, and delivers!!!!!!!!

Love and blessings,
Ree (SCalifBattleCry)