I just thanked a professional counsellor, for sharing my Poem – Ropes, Knives, Fear & Pain – see above link.
She said she was deeply moved by the poem. It’s one of the hardest poems I have written.
I wrote it and shared it because I wanted to let others who have experienced similar to know they are not alone. And also to challenge this wrong society view – that rape is only in a situation where there is violence, screaming and fighting the predator off. Yes, that does happen, but it is not always that situation.
In a captivity situation, like I was in, where the abuser was a sadistic psychopath – I learned I got hurt more, if I fought & screamed, so stopped and did as I was told, to get hurt less. Once totally controlled by this psychopath, I did everything I was told and appeared to be compliant and giving consent. But, it was far from that. I was raped nearly every day for a period of years. During most of that, I didn’t say no. But, it was in no way consensual. It was rape and psychological torture – threats of death, and physical torture. I was often left tied up. Taken out to deep forest areas and badly hurt. Until I did as I was told.
It is a powerful poem that is hard to read and it does move many people.
I still feel surprised and bewildered sometimes that anything I write touches people the way it does, and is validated and valued by professionals in the abuse/trauma/therapy field.
Sometimes, I accept this and feel validated and encouraged to keep writing…and then other times it still feels surreal – like ‘is this really me’? You know that quirky, kooky, ‘special’ girl everyone loved to put down, call names, who never stood up for herself, just accepted it, accepted being treated badly, treated herself badly, never spoke of the terrible and horrendous things done.
Surreal, is still how it feels. Often. To have professionals etc – value, share and credit my work. As worthwhile.
It’s like with most things, I accept them all fully intellectually, but they never reach right into my heart and soul.