A Thousand Cuts

Much is said about a ‘death by a thousand cuts’

No one ever talks much about those who live.

Day by day, cut by cut, scar by scar.

Each cutting word, action or look.

Slicing and cutting so deep.

 

Much is said about the hammering of the fists.

No one ever talks much about those who live.

Day by day, lie by lie, scar by scar.

Each gaslight moment cruel.

Wondering at sanity.

 

Much is said about the running away, the escape.

No one ever talks much about those who stay.

Day by day, fear by fear, scar by scar.

Each dreaded breath baited.

Survival as a way of life.

 

Much is said about rebuilding, healing, moving on.

No one ever talks much about the scars.

Day by day, cut by cut, scar by scar.

Each a reminder of pain and

of another day alive.

 

Much is said about reaching out, getting the help.

No one ever talks about how hard that is.

Day by day, fear by fear, scar by scar.

Worthy? Maybe. No. NO. Useless.

What if some battles never end?

 

Never enough is said about no one deserving this.

No one ever talks about how they ‘suspected’

Day by day, hour by hour, scar by scar

Doing nothing because they are

Minding their own business.

 

Never enough is said about the pain of surviving.

No one ever talks about feeling less saved

Day by day, breath by breath

By those who feast on the

Pain, as at a feast.

 

Never enough is said about those times when fear hits.

No one ever talks about how ugly the scars feel.

Day by day, scar by painful scar.

Bumpy, sore, raw, achy. Ugly.

Stay. Pain. Escape. Pain.

 

Much is said about the hurt, the escape and the horror.

No one ever talks much about the rebuilding.

Day by day, scar by healing scar.

Ask me about the new place

that I’m in. It’s good.

 

When we support survivors of abuse or other trauma we tend to focus on the circumstances before their freedom and the escape. The harrowing experiences feed a certain element with a feast of voyeuristic pain and misery. Too often we then expect everyone to ‘move on’ and ‘get over it’. It isn’t ever that easy. They can walk away from the scars of another, move on to their next drama but those who live with the scars know. The hardest part is the rebuilding, and the owning. Owning the hurt and owning the healing. Ten years twenty or two – it may fade, and it may lessen but some wounds and some scars stay a very long time. Don’t deny a survivor a place to say, “I’m not okay” and don’t deny them the right to say, “This hurts and it sucks”. 

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Hello Darkness

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“Don’t let them warm up, they can can reanimate!” was the warning.

Even in the their state they could still come back.

To bite.

To sting.

To hurt.

The darkness, once banished, ever creeps and stalks.

To bite.

To sting.

To hurt.

Burn the torches bright, pray that they will last til light.

To guard.

To shine.

To protect.

Reaching out past the darkness to find the light.

To survive.

To heal.

To fight.

No matter how bright the torch, it isn’t the light.

You can’t keep it burning long enough to win.

The darkness wants it this way. The cave a trap.

Cowering.

Afraid.

Alone.

Fighting back is a fight not to the death, but to life.

Cursing.

Shouting.

Living.

Not because of the darkness but to spite it.

Winning by living another day.

Just one.

Then another.

Mental health awareness is so important, and when we struggle with mental health issues it is so hard to fight back, to get help, to have someone reach through the darkness to find you. Or to see your hand pushing out of the darkness. Being there is so important. Don’t wait for someone to ask for help – be there. Be present. Know the signs of someone fighting the darkness. It is the loneliest fight. Bitter and cruel. We lose too many. 

#mentalhealth