It Helps to Write.

I hesitate to once again publish my sister’s response to me publishing the first message on this blog.

 

Yet I feel that full disclosure is the most honest thing to do.

Otherwise only my side is viewed. 

 

I hear her words and you should too.

 

I did go back and read more of your blog; saw what you did with my words. A dialog that began between just the two of us you felt the need to publish….is there power in that? What do you gain? It is precisely the game of words and poetry that I am uninterested in…remarkable the leap you made with my intentions. To assume there is anger, slamming and all the other creative verbage to describe my feelings towards you is genious! Vigilantly defend your stance, see hidden meaning in words, assume the motives of others and continue on your path to enlightenment-it is working for you, that is clear.

 

Here is my response;

 

There is no power publishing how low my family thinks of me. There are no winners in this. The sides are two sides of losing.

You either lose your self or your whole family.
Is that a choice you want to make?

What you call poetry and fancy words, they are words of my soul, of my pain, of my confusion, of me not wanting to play again with folks who are not interested.

I hear you state and make light of what is our tragic abuse.
How it is a 'sad little song'?

It has ripped apart the spirit of little girls, it has stolen innocence.

To not focus on the damage that 'sad little song' did, is to not see us.

To see the little girl.

I feel you are angry that I am focusing on the 'bad' stuff while you all would love me to say the nice things.

I am sorry, but the bad stuff has been stuffed aside for too long.

I published our messages, to sort out why I am seen so wrongly by you all.

It confuses me. Tell me what I did wrong.

My blog or whether I engage in a relationship with you is not a game, it is real.

Relationships to me are held in the highest esteem.
I need to know who I am 'playing' with. I no longer like things to be hidden, I like open dialogue.
Don't say things to me that I can't share.

Once your words leave you, they are mine and they were directed at me.

Would you temper your words if you knew they would be published?  Aren't your feelings your feelings whether they are public or private?

Our whole childhood was about 'secrets' and in those secrets pain lived.

Secrets that hurt little girls.
It is time for secrets to stop.

I am not grand standing on the blog, but simply using that as a way to sort out my confusion as I said before.

When you don't see the seriousness of the blog, you don't see the seriousness of our abuse and what damage it caused us in all areas of our world.

It is not just a small part of our world, there was no part of me that wasn't affected.

Our whole psyche was twisted up and made to be mental.

To call 'dad' a man who can rape his own daughter is beyond what my mind can hold. As a little girl we are severely affected. Our lives are changed forever.

You don't unring that bell.

 

My 'blindness' of that incident was from severe trauma, yet our neighbor girl remembered US being raped, we were there together. My body feared that man. My body held the memory. My body didn't lie.

I am working like hell to work my way into a normal life from that.

It is not fancy words, for none can pretty that up.

When you ask to be my friend, you are being a friend of a wounded girl.

I will not cover up my wound.

I am imperfect because I was raped as a child by my father.
I cannot call that man my dad, now that I know.

The stance that I defend so vigilantly is "I was abused".
I will never say otherwise.

It has made me be someone totally different than I would have been if this had not happened.

I will find that me I was suppose to be, the me beyond the wound.

Your words hurt, for you want to turn away from me.
Because I am wounded, because I won't pretend not to be.

I may publish this just so you know…..I am not sure.
That blog to me is a friend who will always listen, kindly.
It helps to write.