I may have been silent for the previous six months on my blog but that is because my voice has been loud in other places as I continue to fight against childhood sexual abuse. The blogging hiatus is coming to an end and I will soon be sharing some life updates. Until then, I thought I would share some thoughts I had when I came across part of a poem, I wrote a while back.
Come to my room, my dear
You have nothing to fear
It’s our time together
Please, let me float like a feather
Through the air, with the wind
I can’t get away, I’m pinned
What is happening, I don’t understand
Don’t worry my dear, this is all planned
What happened in your bed
Where my mother laid her head
Took what was mine
When I was just nine
Secrets unspoken.
Imagination broken.
Innocence stolen.
When my abuser invited me to his room, I entered with enthusiasm, fearlessness, and an imagination strongly intact. When I left his room, my enthusiasm was replaced with confusion, my fearlessness was replaced with immense fear, and my imagination was completely shattered. His choices changed the trajectory of my childhood. His actions essentially ended my childhood. My ability to play with Barbie dolls or stuffed animals ended.
Trauma not only impacts a person physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually; trauma also closes one chapter in the book of life and opens a new one. Now, there is point in which life is measured in the before and after.
Experiencing how abuse drastically changed my life fuels my desire to fight this injustice. The chapter I now enter involves fierce advocacy and a continued fight for children still being abused. Little children should never be forced to hold secrets. A little one’s imagination should never be shattered. Innocence should never be stolen.
Stay tuned for more #bravegirlspeak
Brave Girl, Speak 