Well.. it's been a while again since I wrote in here. Such a lot has been going on that its difficult to know where to start!

Today was therapy once more, and I have to say this new Therapist is damned good! even when we get those silent moments she sits and waits for me to speak before we carry on..
I beleive I've said already that we are slowly working through some poems that I have written!

Today we carried on where we left off last session, the first one being called 'The Children' a rather hard one to read as it clearly explains just what life was like for me as a child.. the poem goes;

THE CHILDREN!

Sobbing, weeping, at the top of the stairs,

Looking at each other, with angry glares.

He's Shouting, he's beating the missing one,

Why oh why, won't somebody come?

We can hear her cries, from way up here,

Why can't the man, in the shop next door hear?

The Silence, he's stopped, she's crying now!

We have to help her, find a way somehow.

She climbs the stairs, in obvious pain,

The belt or the stick? it's much the same.

The marks on her back, show us he's mad!

If he left today, we would be glad.

We hug her and try to make things right,

But he shouts, giving us all a fright.

'Leave her alone, or you'll get it as well'

There's no one around that we can tell.

Mum's home from work,not knowing whats wrong,

We try hard to tell her, just whats going on.

But! He lies, he tells her, we were all bad,

'Someone please help us, we are so sad'!.

We talked about this poem for what seemed like ages, but in fact was most likely only about 15 minutes or so. She asked me if this sort of thing was a daily event and I had to admit to her that it was practically.. We never knew from one day to the next what sort of mood he's come home in, but we'd find out for sure within about half an hour, generally it was a bad mood and one of us would be made to suffer for it! He'd take out his frustration on us kids even if we'd done nothing wrong. She said it must have been pretty hard for us all growing up in that environment not knowing when or if we'd get beaten before bed time! I admitted to her that it was hard, my siblings had nicknamed me 'mouse' for obvios reasons I used to shy away and try hard not to be noticed especially by him, it didn't always work though and I would get the beatings just as much as the rest of them.

We then went on to talk about a few other poems, one called 'My Brother' about when he was sent away at the age of 11years by him to what he called a 'special school for boys'.. supposedly my brother had learning difficulties.. he didn't though it was just DONS was of getting him removed from the home before he was big enough to stand up to him and stop him from hurting us girls.. with my brother out of the way he had a free reign! He could do what he wanted to us with no one to stop him.. not even our Mum who often witnessed his beatings on us and did nothing to stop him! She always put him first, he was her life and stuff the kids! she didn't care about us at all.. well thats how it felt.. there's no way I would ever let a man treat my kids that way, if he so much as tried he'd be out the door with the police chasing after him..

We then talked about another poem I've written that is called 'CUTTING' it goes like this!

CUTTING

Cutting, bleeding, torturing as well,

Burning their arms, living in hell!

Minds in turmoil,how can they cope?

Not all of us harm, because of a bloke!

But! those that do, say it's a release,

It's not everyone else,they're trying to please.

They just can't cope, with the thoughts in their heads,

Just wanting to sleep, to take to their beds!

The blood it gushes, crimson red,

Wish they could talk, to someone instead.

Those cuts don't make the pain go away,

The thoughts in their heads, they will stay!

I must admit, I don't understand,

How someone can cut, with their own hand,

I don't have the courage, to do that to me,

But, I try to understand, I hope they can see.

This is kinda self explanitory, my Sister used to self harm majorly and now has the scars up both arms to show for it.. for many Survivors of Abuse this is a coping technique that they feel helps, many say when they see the blood its like all the dirt from the abuse flooding out of them, so for a while afterwards they feel 'normal'.. a hard one to understand for anyone who hasn't been there but I do understand it, I've seen it happen at first hand and seen the pain and heartache of the sufferers.. mainly because they have been abused!

How many more children have to live this kind of life before something drastic is done to the perpetrators? how many more lives have to be ruined before we as a Society stand up and shout enough is enough! I will wonder on that one for the rest of my days, because as far as I can see nothing has changed in the last 30yrs.. children are still to scared to come forward because they fear they will lose thier parents, the good ones that is, to many fear the family being broken up and many are scared because of threats made to them by the abuser!

'PLEASE EVERYONE STAND UP AND SHOUT NOW! BEFORE ANOTHER CHILD'S LIFE IS RUINED IN THIS WAY BY THESE PEOPLE'!

Into week three of being a working lass again, wow its been a big shock getting used to being away from home for some 9 1/2 hours a day.. but the pay check at the end of the month will hopefully make it all worthwhile eh! Its interesting meeting people again and getting back into the swing of an office once more.. I'm glad I made the choice to try.

I'm still going to my councelling sessions once a week, in fact I've been today as she was away on holiday last week.. was quite a tough one as I finally admitted to her that I have been getting very angry recently, not really sure what the cause of it is but it seems the slightest thing can set me off these days. I admitted to having had some really nasty arguements with my friend that have turned out bad, to the extent where I actually kicked a door and broke it! When she was on the other side :-(

My therapist believes its misplaced anger about the past and has suggested that it may help to try and write letters to my abusers to get the feelings out, I'm not sure if this will work or not but I am prepared to give it a go. So I may just start to write exactly what I think of the people from my past. It is certain to be a pretty unpleasant read for anyone who tries to read it as I don't intend to mince my words at all. I just wish deep down that it would be read by the people who have caused me all these years of torment and pain.. somehow I doubt they'd read this blog as they don't see that they've done anything wrong at all.. but it would be an eye opener for sure!

Maybe my first letter should just be to the Guy who raped me when I was 19yr old and about to get married, it was suggested to me many years ago to write him a letter but not being good at letter writing I wrote a poem! This is the poem I wrote back then! I called it;

'Raped'

How did I feel, when he pushed me down?

He wasn't trying to be a clown.

He pushed me hard from behind,

My vision Impaired, I was blind!

Shaking, frightened and confused,

Yet again, I'm being used!

I can't recall the words he said,

As he pushed me down, on the bed!

He was Big and black and very strong,

Must have known, this was wrong.

He tore my clothes, removed his own,

No pity, no mercy, from him was shown.

He took what he wanted, left the room,

I felt he'd come back again real soon.

I stayed where I was, locked the door,

Sat there sobbing on the floor.

An hour passed, maybe two,

I didn't know what I should do?

In time I moved, I found a robe,

Never again will I do as I'm told!

I made a call, asked for help,

He came straight away, heard me yelp.

I never went to the police that day,

Didn't know what I should say.

I was getting married in three weeks time,

I had to pretend, none of this was mine!

This poem turned out to be more about how it felt at the time of the rape, rather than a letter to 'The Rapist' so maybe now is the time?

I want to ask him..'Why?' Why did he feel the need to abuse me that day the way he did? What was his reason for treating me like he did? I was his neighbour and could have been a friend so why do this?

Did I deserve to be 'Raped'? NO I damned well didn't. I'd done nothing to him, nothing at all but his actions that day have caused me many years of heartache and pain, now almost 30 years on I still suffer from nightmares about what he did to me, I still occassionally get flashbacks where I feel him forcing me, pushing me, hitting me. I walk down the street and see an African man walking towards me, it freaks me out if there is a resemblance to him! to the extent that I sometimes am unable to function properly.. Its not fair! For his 20 mins or half hour, however long it was I have suffered years of pain and sorrow because he couldn't do the decent thing and walk away leaving me to live my life!

I often wonder does he remember what he did that day? Does he ever feel remorseful for the pain he caused me? Has he caused this type of pain to anyone else since then? I never reported him, unfortunately.. I wish now that I had but I can't even remember his name anymore, just what he looked like. So its to late for me, all I can do now is try to deal with all the sorrow and move on from it. I can't do what some people tell me to do though, many say 'It's in the past move on and forget it'! If they'd been through it they'd understand its not that easy.. I have to re-live it many times over and deal with it to be able to put it in the past, hence why nowadays I write it out.. I write it in many different ways and styles each one depicting a different aspect of what happened.. one day ... hopefully soon it will lose its power over me and I'll be able to openly talk about just what he did to me in that room.. hopefully that day is not to far away.

Such a lot has happened since I last posted on here.

Firstly I got the job I'd applied for and started working on wednesday 1st August.. it was a complete shock to the system as I haven't worked outside the home in nearly 20 years! and almost 30 years since I worked in an office.. But I did it and have now just completed week 2.. learning lots of few things and I have to admit I'm enjoying it as well..

I've been seeing my new councellor for some three weeks now and we are slowly working through my book of poems abut my life.. at the last session we had dealt with one of the hardest ones which was called 'My Life' about as it says my life in a condensed form.. it was pretty hard going through all the stages in therapy, but I beleive beneficial as well.. we have moved on from that one now and talked last time about 'Secrets' and one called 'Violence' both quite poignant poems about the past and things that have happened.. I'll write them here.

'SECRETS'

The tales, the stories, the secrets we keep,

Without them, our lives, incomplete.

We were taught at a very young age,

Just what would happen if we turned the page!

Our young lives a mess, who could we tell?

Not a Teacher or Doctor, we knew so well.

They must have seen, something was wrong,

We were not chirpy birds, singing our song.

Not sure about others, but I know about me,

I was quiet, reserved, why couldn't they see?

let nobody get to closely involved,

Else all of my secrets, would have been told.

If I'd told my story when I was a child,

Would I have grown up, going so wild?

Would I have settled, for a marriage from hell?

Had I been groomed, did it show so well?

To many questions, answers not found,

Feeling like I'm living in a big compound.

As this explains, I felt unable to tell anyone what was happening as I grew up for fear of what may happen to us all.. as a result many of the problems I have faced since that time can be directly linked to the childhood abuse.. I grew up thinking and beleiving that it was up to me to deal with it all alone, to tell no one about my pain or suffering.... The other poem we talked about was called 'Violence' simple as it explains itself.. it was written about what I saw as a child growing up..

'VIOLENCE'

She's covered in purple bruises all over,

She certainly doesn't, have a life of clover.

Her eyes are both, a dark shade of black,

He punched her, kicked her in her back.

The clothes and the make up, prevent it from showing,

She believes her neighbours, can't help knowing.

They must hear her screams, when they start to fight,

But! Nobody comes, it's the middle of the night.

The children they cower, on the stairs,

He's ranting and raving, but nobody cares.

Next day at school, their all half asleep,

Their mothers terrible secret, they will keep.

They grow up believing, thats how it is,

We learn from our parents, when we are kids.

They know that they're scared, when dad hits mum,

But! Believe it is right, cause nobody comes.

If it was wrong, wouldn't somebody call?

They sit there silent, don't move, don't dare fall.

One day they see an ambulance arrive,

They wonder, if Mum is going to survive?

He's taken things many steps over the mark,

These memories for ever, in their heads will park!

When a child of any age witnesses this type of behaviour in adults, they naturally beleive it to be normal? Now I know differently of course... My Parents had an abusive relationship hence why I beleived it was the norm.. and when My stepfather started abusing me I did and said nothing to stop him! so maybe a little of me blames me still? even though I know now that he was wrong?

We dealt with a few other poems as well mainly ones about my early childhood where I had been taught to 'Obey' adults as they knew best?? I don't think so any more.. now I at least listen to my children and hear what they have to say before making rash decisions about things.. I still have the last word though as they do need to know who is in charge but I think I got a happy medium whereby they feel heard unlike how I grew up...Memories of these times haunt me almost daily, but deal with them I must and will..

It was my birthday earlier this week and I went of to London with a really good friend of mine for a couple of days, we took in two west end shows.. 'We will rock you' and 'Mama Mia' and I have to say that although I left the theatre both nights almost deaf! from being so close to the speakers they were brilliant shows to see.. so if anyones stuck for a night out in London take in either one your sure to enjoy...

I hope to be able to get back to the routine of writing in here regularly soon, just got to get used to being a working lass again..lol...