Inside Out (Poem)

"Anyhow, while perusing some old emails that I had sent to myself from various addresses, I found this poem that I appear to have written on April 20, 2015.  Apparently, I never published it here (or anywhere else?), for whatever reason .........

Anyhow, I recently had a 2.5ish-week hospitalization and while there often had nothing to wear but surgical scrubs.  I chose to wear them inside out and backward (so that nobody would confuse me for a doctor) because I know that for some trauma survivors the sight of scrubs and/or other medical uniforms can be VERY triggering.  Many trauma survivors have endured horrendous abuse at the hands of the very medical professionals who were supposed to be "helping" them (I am one of those survivors that has been used and abused by various mental health and medical professionals, both while as a patient in the hospital and as an outpatient).

Sooooo, here's the poem. I edited it slightly to reflect my feelings DURING MY MOST RECENT HOSPITALIZATION . . . that is to say that now that I am home with my family, I no longer feel this way . . . I am at peace and feel blessed beyond measure!

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Inside Out

My scrubs are inside out and backward

And so is my brain

I don't even care

Do they even see me stare

Right through them.

All because

The people that I THOUGHT I could trust

"Betrayed" me once again ...

I am sure they meant no harm;

They thought that they were "getting help"

But that's not the help I need.

Their kind of "help"

Only makes my soul bleed.

I still can't escape the memories.

I still can't escape the pain.

Sometimes I feel so incredibly lost

When I have to be back here AGAIN.

So many people hurting,

So many people feeling lost.

We've learned so much,

But AT WHAT COST?

I want so much to help the broken-hearted,

I wish that I could teach others,

Who, as I, want to reach the scarred and lonely,

Oh, if only . . .

But I don't know if they can learn,

Or if ANYONE would understand –

That it takes more than reading books

And doing research

And compiling data

And creating systems

And writing worksheets

And running groups

And forcing medication . . .

To try to walk someone through this kind of thing

When they can barely even crawl . . .

When sometimes they can't move at all . . .

Just hold my hand

We can do this together. 

Just be my friend

While I struggle through this.

All the college degrees in the world

Can't prepare you for this shit.

Unimaginable horror,

And that's just the start of it.

So write your precious notes about

All the progress I have made.

All the bullshit they may have taught you.

All the psychobabble games you play.

You can't make me be "unraped."

You can't make me forget.

You can't "untorture" me.

You can't erase the regret.

You can’t unburn me.

You can’t “unlearn” me.

You can't give me back

The babies that died.

You can't give me back

All  the years I have lost,

Or heal this gnawing ache inside.

What do you know of pain?

Have you prayed for it to end?

Have you laid in a pool

Of your own clotting blood

And wished for just one friend?

Have you been locked inside a world

That had no clear way out?

Have you held a screaming child

And wanted to shout 

To the universe --

"This is wrong!"

How can I explain

The depth of this pain?

There is only one way I know,

Only one way to show ...

To sacrifice myself.

But I've already done that.

Over and over and over again.

And nobody "got it."

So now I simply do what I can.

I write and I sing. I try EVERYTHING.

Music I remember.

Songs I sang as a child.

I try to hold onto faith, hope, and love

And keep my mind from running wild.

But there aren't any hymns

About getting rippped apart.

(although there are plenty 

about aching, broken hearts)

LORD, save me from myself.

I have you, and only a few others. 

And for all who have helped me

Walk this path with my head held high,

I am eternally grateful.

Even for the pain,

I am thankful,

For the pain reminds me

That this is not my home.

There IS a better place

Somewhere . . . .

And I WILL see it

Someday....

But not today,

For we have children yet to raise,

And bills to pay.

So we must go on,

Despite the pain,

Despite the fear.

We must believe in something more

We must hold on,

Even when we question what life is about.

We must somehow keep going,

Even when we feel like we're turned

Inside out.