It Never Happened

"It never happened." Words that are so strong;
An echo from the past I left behind,
A challenge of what I'd lived all along,
A seed of doubt was planted in my mind.
"If you say this, then no one will believe
A single thing you say; it's all a lie."
I'm empty now, there's nothing to achieve,
No point in even bothering to try.
I sigh and nod, I back away, and then
Give in and say the words I hate to say.
I'm back to just a puppet once again;
The melancholy robot saves the day.
"It never happened." (So glad we agree.)
Guess I was wrong. Good-bye reality.

Standing Tall (sonnet)

I did not give up, did not cease to fight.
I chose to find a way I could survive.
I weighed the risk, did what I felt was right;
I saved myself and vowed to stay alive.
I held onto my "self" as best I could.
I fought to stay in touch with what was real.
I lived through things that no one ever should,
Experienced feelings none should have to feel.
I lost some battles, but I won the war.
I'm still not whole, but I am standing tall.
I may not understand the reasons for
The pain he caused or why I took it all.
I cannot blame myself for giving in;
By letting go, I found a way to win.

Giving up the Fight (artwork; trigger warning)

I apologize in advance if this piece of artwork is disturbing to you.  I'm simply trying to wade my way through all of the perverse images that swirl around my mind these days.  Sometimes it's so hard to fit the pieces together.  What I find the most disconcerting is that in many of these images, I see myself in such a submissive state, as though I had completely given up, as though I no longer cared what happened to me, and had simply accepted what was happening as my "lot in life."  Sometimes I will have a clear recollection of thinking to myself, "If I do this, at least something worse won't happen tonight."  It's like I had lost all will to fight back. 

I've tried to determine when exactly this change took place.  Was there a moment in time that I decided it wasn't worth the struggle, that pain was inevitable and I might as well choose the least painful thing?  Was there a day that I suddenly relinquished any right to my own body? Or was it a gradual process that incidiously ate away at the very core of my being until I had no strength left to resist?  I honestly can't say.

I'm ashamed to admit that I gave up, that I stopped fighting back, that I just lay there and "took it" like a lump of nothingness.  At some point, I guess I quit feeling.  But did I really?  I find it hard to believe that there wasn't at least some internal response to the excruciating pain, humiliation, and degradation.  It's more likely that I dissociated whenever I got overwhelmed physically and/or emotionally. 

This is a very difficult image for me.  I know it happened a lot.  Several times a week, as best I can recall. I can feel my face mashed into him and his hands pushing so hard against the back of my head that my neck hurt.  I can smell the musky smell between his legs and sometimes I wake in the middle of the night with a choking sensation and a salty taste in my mouth.  I chose the swirly background because sometimes I would get so dizzy that the "room would swim" and I'd "see stars" because it was very hard to breathe.  Aside from the fact that I was probably a little low on oxygen to the brain now and then LOL, I would put myself into sort of a trance and visualize something sort of like the swirls in this picture.  I would close my eyes and points of light would go around and around in circles.

And yet, I would just kneel there. Like a robot. Like a servant.  Like it was my duty.  I can see myself just sitting there totally limp and lifeless, gagging, trying to breathe, trying to pull away just enough to take a breath and him smashing himself down my throat.  "Swallow it," he'd order, "Just swallow it."  I can feel the cold tile of the bathroom floor sometimes.  Other times, he'd have me sit on the toilet and he would stand in front of me.  That was a little "better" because at least my neck wasn't at such a crazy angle. 

Truthfully, even though I DETESTED sucking him off, I'm ashamed to admit that sometimes I would OFFER it to him to avoid the more painful alternatives.  I hate myself for being so weak, for thinking so little of myself that I would essentially try to "bargain" my way out of pain.  "I'll give you a blow job if you'll leave me alone for the rest of the night."  I don't know how many times I said that.  The sickening thing is, sometimes I'd go through a half hour of agonizing fellatio, "comforting" myself with the fact that at least for that night I wouldn't get raped, and then he'd go back on his word and wake me up at 2 in the morning ANYWAY and say, "Oh, that was just a warmup.  Time for round 2."  

How did I manage to survive?  Why didn't I go insane?  Maybe I DID go insane . . . a little . . . LOL . . . what "normal" person would spend hours on end recreating disgusting graphic images of horrible memories. 

But at the moment, it seems to be helping me "get it out," so bear with me and I apologize for the content of the "art."  One of these days I'll have to do something a little more "nice" for a change. 

Just a Ghost (Acrostic Sonnet)

When first he came and took his rightful prize,
He had to find me first and pin me down,
Yet somehow I just froze and closed my eyes.
Despite the pain, I lay without a sound.
I think I tried to hide a time or two;
Deterring him just never seemed to work.
No matter what I did or didn't do,
The time would come, and he'd just go berserk.
I don't know when or why I chose defeat,
For years it seemed the only thing to do.
I'd wave a flag of white and just retreat.
"God help me," I would pray; it's all I knew.
How many times did he take all of me,
Til I was not a woman, just a ghost,
Believing 'twas my lot to simply be
A piece of meat? I think that hurt the most.
Consid'ring how he left my soul for dead,
Keep asking what I should have done instead.