What It’s Worth

She said, “It’s a jungle out there”
As she pulled back her hair
And watched me
As I pondered my response
She had a light in her eyes
One can’t simply describe
And you’re not sure why
But it’s something you want
I know she wants me to agree
With all of her complexities
But I don’t have the sureness
She effortlessly puts forth
So I just not my head
Wait for the light to turn red
And wish I could
For what it’s worth
Amanda.x.Coleman
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#SURVIVORSATURDAY

#survivorsaturday #metoo #SAAM
April is Sexual Abuse Awareness Month, and I was asked if I wanted to share my story. It’s not something I’ve ever done, but I’m starting to learn that sometimes there is healing in sharing. I struggle with talking about it, and honestly didn’t know where to start when it came to writing this. I hesitate for the same reasons that so many others do. My experience doesn’t feel that significant. I feel responsible for it happening. I don’t want to be thought of as attention seeking. What happened to me really isn’t that bad. (And in the grand scope of things, it wasn’t.) But that still doesn’t make it okay. That doesn’t make my struggle, my damage, my insecurities any less real. And I still struggle with that too. So today I share with you.

I share with you that at 19 I was in a relationship that would end up altering my entire being. He wasn’t violent, but the emotional and sexual abuse more than made up for it. He ruined my confidence, my self image, my relationships. My sense of self preservation. At 19 I was new to pretty much everything, and was a wide eyed willing target for a narcissistic sociopath. I was easily charmed, and they always know exactly what to say at first. At first. They make you feel wonderful. And loved. Important. And then slowly they invert it all on you. “Who are you dressing up for? I’d never do that to you. Do I really ask so much? You shouldn’t want people in your life that don’t support us.” It started with the inability to tell him no. If I wasn’t in the mood, there must be someone else. I was cheating on him. Why wasn’t he good enough? I should always want him. How could I tell him no? I should be comfortable enough with him to try anything. He’d never really hurt me. But the time – The time that broke me. The time that it finally clicked that it was wrong. The time I finally said stop; I NEEDED to stop. I couldn’t do this anymore – he held me there and said he wasn’t done yet. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t brutal. But there are no words for what that feels like. From someone who’s supposed to be the only one in the world that would ever love you and want you anyway. There are no words. Though, I’ve wasted countless pages trying.

These are some of those pieces. This is me taking my voice back. This is me saying that what may seem like a small thing to some, took me years to even acknowledge, and I’m still working on it. It took a few years before anything intimate didn’t give me severe panic attacks. It took even longer to feel like I was worth being intimate with. Loved? We’re still working on that. But I learned so much about myself. And my strength. And how much control I do in fact have. And here I am, writing publicly about it for the first time. Mostly, I hope it helps someone who feels like maybe their story doesn’t count. Or that it isn’t important enough. Trauma is not a competition. We can’t control how things impact us. We only have control over what we do with it after, and how we choose to heal.

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Echoes

Today, his memory
Echoes in my insides
Rattling my ribs
With the reverberations
I’ve tried to let him go
But he ripples through me
Like sound waves
That won’t fade

Amanda.x.Coleman

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Start Again

God if I could
Quiet my mind
Even a little
At a time
Maybe I could
Convince myself
Once and for all
That it really is
Worth it in the end
But then
I just have to
Start again
Tomorrow

Amanda.x.Coleman

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