Distant Echoes (July 30, 2016)

Can still hear

Mom and dad

Shouting

At each other.

Guilt fills 

My 6 years old

Soul.

Like

I am responsible

For their verbal fight

That happening

Before me.

Even now

Almost 4 decades 

Later.

The guilt

Still haunts me.

As tears 

Threat to overflow

My tear ducts.

Gushing forth

Like Niagara Falls

Regardless

Of my location

In a public area.

Leaving me

Brimming with curses

At my long term memory

And its ability

To retain them.

Wishing for

Total amnesia

Of any long term

Memory.

Failing that

Then

Death.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For more years, than I care to remember, my long term memory has been able to retains events that I would rather have erased. One of the huge disadvantage of this, is a "Swiss" cheese like short term memory, which I have forgotten numerous conversations, after I or the other person has left. As a teenager, my mom stopped asking me, to get anything from the downstairs pantry, as I would forget her request, by the time, I got to the pantry. 

Personal Reactions To Orlando, Fl (June 13, 2016)

It sadden me

Having to write this

After the tragic massacre

Of Orlando, Florida.

As

Conflicting emotions

Fill my soul.

Not sure

How I should vent

These strong emotions

In a positive way.

Without

Harming myself

Or other innocents

With their release.

Knowing

I must do so

To start

My own healing.

Although

Not a victim

Of this tragedy

Directly.

Yet

I do feel

So very guilty.

Having survived

My own series
Of violent

Transphobic/homophobic

Encounters.

Wondering

Why I have survived

Where they didn't.

And

Does this guilt

Ever disappear?

A question

I have

No answer

For.

Therisa © 2016

That Guilty Feeling (April 11, 2016)

Not sure

If others can understand

The viscous impact

That violence has

Upon one's life.

(Whether

Sexually  psychologically

Or physically)

Even now

Many years later.

Still

Find myself

Easily being triggered

By these memories

From my past.

No amount

Of hot water and soap

Or drowning my body

In the bathtub.

Will remove

These mortal stains

From my soul.

Although

I know

These experiences

Aren't my fault.

And yet

Somehow

I feel responsible

For what happened

During these assaults

Upon me.

In feeling guilty

For them

Happening.

As if

I had done

Or acted

Differently.

I would be spared

These traumatic

Experiences.

But

I know

Nothing can change

Those violent events

From occurring.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note:  On Saturday, April 9, 2016, I began a new blog, which I posted the first letter that I have written, to my younger self, as a 15 year old, about the abuse that would happen me, during that Summer. Must warn anyone that reads this, it's filled with some graphic physical violence, and may act, as a trigger, for some. Sadly, I triggered myself, today. The following is a link, to the first post of the new blog. http://munsentletters.blogspot.ca/2016/04/summer-of-1985.html
Am working on, another letter to myself, which covers the period of my self-discovery and coming out, after years of self-denial. Not sure, when I be able to post it, as it took me, about a month, of writing daily, to do the first letter.


Please, don't thrown off, by the male name that appears in the letter's greeting, as that was my name, my parents gave me, at birth. An Angolized version, of one of my dad's brothers' Dutch name, who died, during an asthma attack, choking on phlegm, in his wife's arms.

My Biggest Regret (March 14, 2016)

Within my mind

The toxic game

Of "what if"

Is being played out.

As I castigate

Myself

For being

Too chicken

In not telling you

About my true self.

Although

I think

You knew

I was different

From the other kids.

Just that

You wanted me

To speak

These words

In confirming

Your hunch

I'm gay.

Not sure

Whether

I should be laughing

Or crying

Dad.

For your intuition

Is only

Half right

About me

Being gay.

Dad

You have 

A daughter

And a son.

And not

the two sons

You went to

The grave

Believing.

Please

Forgive me

For waiting 7 years

After your death.

To tell

Your ashes

At the grave site.

The Long Run (January 4, 2016)

You think

I would be

Jumping

Over the moon.

Upon achieving

This milestone

Of five years.

Since

My last suicide attempt.

And yet

A sense of sadness

Fills me.

As the tears stream

Silently

Down my face.

Dreading

The coming month

That January is

For me.

Marking

The coldest month

Of the year

Leaving the soul

Bitterly fragile

To the touch.

Each black "X"

Upon the calendar page

Symbolizes

One less day.

Until

The end

Of this race.

And

February's arrival

With its coming thaws.


Therisa © 2016

Author's Note: The month of January, marks the end, of my annual Fall/Winter depression, which has traditionally, seen an increase, in my suicidal feelings, with the two dark periods of November 11th-20th, and December 24th-January 2nd. January 3, 2016, marked the fifth anniversary, of my last suicide attempt, since the holiday season of 2010-11. Also, the first time, since then, I have found myself, on the edge between passively and actively suicidal, with my suicide index, at 5, out of 10. Where 10 means, I have committed suicide, and someone else is writing about my death to you.