Releasing Dark Fears (March 17, 2017)

Out of sync

Body dysfunctional

With reality.

As if

I don't belong

Here.

Like an Internet troll

Who's pretending

To be

Someone else.

Scared

Someone will call me

An imposture

Or worse.

Telling me

My experiences

Of abuse and hate

Are imaginary.

From the pages

Of a horror story

One can buy

On-line.

Tossed away

When done.

Found unbelievable

Even for

Fiction.

Into the delete bin

Of your computer

Or smartphone.

     *   *   *

You call me

Justifiably paranoid.

Never once

Did you acknowledge

My attempts

To share my past.

Rather

You sought

To exercise 

Your fear.

Repeatedly

Asking the same question

Session 

After session.

As if

You don't believe

My answers.

If you're trying

To anger me

It won't work.

Given

My high threshold

Before I will react

To you.

And yes

I do know

You're transphobic

By the manner

You interact

With me.

As witnessed

By my housing worker

During our last session

Together.

Handing over

The psychological assessment

For my application

To Ontario Disability Support Program.

An assessment

With many glaring errors

By you.

     *   *   *

So

Tell me

Doc.

Are all abuse survivors

Justifiably paranoid

By our inability

To make direct eye contact?

In blaming ourselves

For the actions

Of others?

In the destruction

Of our innocence.

Internalization

Of our abusers' words

By our inner voice

That repeatedly call us

Rude and shameful names.

Like a record

That's constantly 

Skipping?

Or

The anxiety/panic attacks

We experience

In crowded situations

Due to past abuse/bullying.

In which

The crowds

Re-enforces

These abusive actions.

Catching us

In an endless loop

On our personal PVR

Available on demand

24/7.

A struggle

That often ends

In a graveside service.

As the private

Become public.

For those

Who surrender

To the pain.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: On Wednesday, March 15, 2017, I had an appointment, with my therapist, and the above poems, are some of the topics that we talked about, during that session. Before anyone thinks, it was all grim, I had the therapist laughing, at my puns, play on words, and one-liners. 

Like many of my therapy poems, I need to explore my feeling, in a manner, I couldn't or didn't have the time, in the session, last Wednesday. And yes, there were several times, I found myself, on the edge of outright crying, as I opened up, about this part of my life.