Sexual Abuse Support Group
Sexual abuse is a relative cultural term used to describe sexual relations and behavior between two or more parties which are considered criminally and/or morally offensive. Different types of sexual abuse involve: Non-consensual, forced physical sexual behavior such as rape, incest or sexual assault, or psychological forms of abuse, such as verbal sexual behavior or...
walls
written in Chicago, 1982
walls, nothing but wallsdark, impenetrable, threatening
they surround methey have sapped my strength
they rise high in front of me, huge, steep, invincible
they stand between me and other people
between me and my childrenme and my husband
between me and being alive
built of fear and pain
they separate me from freedom and being my Self
they consist of a long struggle with anxiety, only tamed by Valium
I have not taken this drug for the three months I've been
in therapythirty-two years old
a storm of unknown feelings overwhelms me
I have pneumonia and high fever
I also have my first dream in therapy
the first dream I can remember in my whole life
I am cuddled with a blanket into a corner of my therapist's couch
when three furious black figures enter his office
my therapist gets up and argues with them
I am surprised how angry
my gentle, patient and kind therapist has become
outside in the hallway I hear many, many children screaming
I remove the blanket and put on my shoes
with the hopeless feeling that I have to leave this room
--where I feel safer and more secure than I ever felt in my life--
to go back to these screaming children
alone at home the dream frightens me
anxiety, despair and loneliness crush me
only once a week can I see the doctor
with whom can I share this chaos inside of me?
I look for a pen and a piece of paperand I write
it is the first time that I give a name to my feelings
that I try to put them into words
suddenly they become visible on the paper in front of me
but I don't understand what I am reading
the paper is patient and not afraidit listens
I can entrust my thoughts to itI can ask questions
why are there walls? who built them?
how can I tear them down? why is life such a burden?
how I wish I could walk with more ease and confidence
how tired am I of dragging my leaden legs
I have had glimpses of the other side of these wallsmoments
when I felt aliveexperienced colors, diversity, challenge
not this snarl of fear, pain and confusion
my desire to get to the other side is strong and wild
but the other side seems too distanttoo far away
like another planet, another solar systeminaccessible to me
the doctor is not afraid of my feelingscan he help me?
it took so much courage to enter therapyto sayI need help
I am the eldest of six children
I must support, hold and guide the people around me
once the doctor said to mecan you not talk about yourself here
because you don't want to be a problem for me?
the first tears in therapy rolled down my cheeks
the source of a great streamas I answered
no, I cannot be a problemI have always tried to be perfect
the doctor turned around and handed me a box of Kleenex
with a little serious smile he saidthis is for all the perfect people
that evening at home I was lying in the darkness of a room
I listened to musiche had touched me deep inside
I felt as if I was filled with a black, heavy, viscous mass
like sticky tarthe doctor enabled me to feel it
this day, this session gave me hopeI want to find a way out
Barbara Rogers
http://www.screamsfromchildhood.com/chapter_one/walls.html
written in Chicago, 1982
walls, nothing but wallsdark, impenetrable, threatening
they surround methey have sapped my strength
they rise high in front of me, huge, steep, invincible
they stand between me and other people
between me and my childrenme and my husband
between me and being alive
built of fear and pain
they separate me from freedom and being my Self
they consist of a long struggle with anxiety, only tamed by Valium
I have not taken this drug for the three months I've been
in therapythirty-two years old
a storm of unknown feelings overwhelms me
I have pneumonia and high fever
I also have my first dream in therapy
the first dream I can remember in my whole life
I am cuddled with a blanket into a corner of my therapist's couch
when three furious black figures enter his office
my therapist gets up and argues with them
I am surprised how angry
my gentle, patient and kind therapist has become
outside in the hallway I hear many, many children screaming
I remove the blanket and put on my shoes
with the hopeless feeling that I have to leave this room
--where I feel safer and more secure than I ever felt in my life--
to go back to these screaming children
alone at home the dream frightens me
anxiety, despair and loneliness crush me
only once a week can I see the doctor
with whom can I share this chaos inside of me?
I look for a pen and a piece of paperand I write
it is the first time that I give a name to my feelings
that I try to put them into words
suddenly they become visible on the paper in front of me
but I don't understand what I am reading
the paper is patient and not afraidit listens
I can entrust my thoughts to itI can ask questions
why are there walls? who built them?
how can I tear them down? why is life such a burden?
how I wish I could walk with more ease and confidence
how tired am I of dragging my leaden legs
I have had glimpses of the other side of these wallsmoments
when I felt aliveexperienced colors, diversity, challenge
not this snarl of fear, pain and confusion
my desire to get to the other side is strong and wild
but the other side seems too distanttoo far away
like another planet, another solar systeminaccessible to me
the doctor is not afraid of my feelingscan he help me?
it took so much courage to enter therapyto sayI need help
I am the eldest of six children
I must support, hold and guide the people around me
once the doctor said to mecan you not talk about yourself here
because you don't want to be a problem for me?
the first tears in therapy rolled down my cheeks
the source of a great streamas I answered
no, I cannot be a problemI have always tried to be perfect
the doctor turned around and handed me a box of Kleenex
with a little serious smile he saidthis is for all the perfect people
that evening at home I was lying in the darkness of a room
I listened to musiche had touched me deep inside
I felt as if I was filled with a black, heavy, viscous mass
like sticky tarthe doctor enabled me to feel it
this day, this session gave me hopeI want to find a way out
Barbara Rogers
http://www.screamsfromchildhood.com/chapter_one/walls.html
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I have been here before, a long long time ago and now I am back.Forgive me for not just saying what I want to say,even under a triple dose of antidepressants it is still raw and seeping and I am hesitant at revealing it as at least under the bandages around my heart I don,t have to look at how raw and wounded.My child was cleaved from my heart by his own actions. my child of ten,turning eleven...
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theatre and I are there already. I'm having a very berry tea with crackers, cheese and cherry tomatoes and she's having a joint with some beer and we're both on really comfy recliners on thick pile carpet. we need some help with the decor if anyone is around??
I found these online last night..and fell in awe of them.
They spoke right to me, and expressed just what I was feeling. I read it, and feel like those words came out of my mouth/pen.
All of her poems I found made me feel that way...I posted 4 or 5 on here...so look for those too!