My parents are responsible for their failures in how they raised me and my brothers; I am responsible for my life, my choices, my healing, my growth, etc.One step forward today; tomorrow, one step forward today; occasionally a step backwards; over time, the bottomless...
Trigger Warning: This poem is a description of the disturbing reality of domestic violence as experienced by me around the age of six. If you are not in a good place to read such material, please stop here. I have no desire to retraumatize anyone.
Looking in a mirror I see:a battered man,born into family violence,the violence of generations. I see a manwho somehow survivedthe violence of infancy. I see a manwho had grown accustomedto the terror of beingdaddy-Monster’s punching bag. I see a manwho grew up...
Before and during my recovery, many would try to “fix” me, to “help” me, to straighten me out. Some came from a place of dominance; others were well-intentioned. But they didn’t connect with my heart; they didn’t hear my internal ache. Many wanted me to wear a plastic...
The maimed child within:terrified,paralyzed with fear.Forced to trust daddy-Monsterwho’s unstable and dangerous –unpredictably explosive.Forced to trust bitter battered mom,who gave him birth,who’s drunk,slurring her speech,unable/unwilling to protect herselfor her...
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