Abused Pieces
I need to call it what Body is feeling, finally.
Words can abuse.
There are no “signs.” there just aren’t any pointers: no bruises to be seen.
How could I say then, that I am being or have been abused?
Cause right now, and many thousands of times in my past, I feel very beaten up deep inside me. My soul, my little girl, feels beaten up and put down and tossed all the way the fuck around. Rag Dolly.
I’m sure now, that much of it has been coming at me in the form of two things.
One: It is really ALL ABOUT THEM!
How much of an embarrassment I’ve been to each of them, but mostly my Father, with my Mother following suit.
Two: It has been about how TO FIX ME, YESTERDAY!
I was born “broken.” I have remained broken. And much of what is or has been said to me, has been in the house of “I only said those things cause I thought they would help you - to fix you.”
Therefore, how could I look and say anything, or even feel any of it, as being Abusive?
I don’t know. I don’t understand how someone would think that “picking on me” about many things I can not change, could be called “trying to help me.” And then THEY wondered why I would always get beaten up at school. Any school in these United States.
I had a bully out there, cause I had bullies at home! DUH!!!
I had bullies for “boyfriends” cause my Dad is a bully. DUH!!
I had bullies for “girlfriends” cause my Mom is a bully. DUH!!
I Fought like a Mother-Fucker while living at home! I beat up my Mother. Got much horrible pleasure out of it. I hated her! All those fucking WAVES. All those fucking GAMES. All those YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGHs. Nothing ever seemed stable. Where was some plain old nurturing, the kind where it’s given out without expectation of something being given back. I was MAD AS HELL and had not one word to know how to express such feelings. She still plays such games, it’s unreal!
THEY sent me to a Shrink at less than three years of age. I have been going to one where ever I’ve lived all my life. Thank God NOW. But there is some serious resentment that no one else seemed to ever be going!
And some how, THEY seemed to think, that if I went, I could get help and then come home and what? Fix them?
How?
How does a little thing, get help, and then come home to the same madness? How? How does she “work” on the junk being hurled at her faster than spit, having nothing to do with her, cause it’s being played out by STRONG ADULT EGO’s!?
How does she then return to school and deal with the bullies?
And THEY think I stopped talking in school when I was in little kid school, cause of something that happened there! PLEASE!
They were a part of that! I’m sure now, it was about something having been done at school that I got NOT GOOD ENOUGH shit for at home.
HOME!! HOME!!! HOME!!!
What ever the case maybe, no one was going out to get some real help for themselves. It was really left up to me, in the long run. It still is.
So where did I go? Within. Quiet in little kiddie school, quiet still, until now. Safe and quiet, and totally lonely as all hell! Angry and fighting with fists and nasty mouth. But still keeping it all in, under safe blue spaces.
My Father took it upon himself to offer me words of “HELP” once again, just now. I struggled not to be of old. To stay present in the room, and not RUN LIKE HELL, in Body movement, and in Spirit. I needed to see both parts of me, in action. I needed to see and feel that I have done my own work, to help my small and very hurt child deep within, the one I have been trying to protect all along. I let go and went into a place I know very well. Role playing. I am good at it. I often do it, when alone, in order to figure out what is mine and what is not.
I allowed all persons within me to have their say. I allowed CHILD to sit there in silence until even one word could come up and out. I allowed TEENAGE to scream and shout, to show me the frustrations in front of me. I allowed KNOWING to watch. And I allowed NOW to speak with the words she has learned and developed into. No more denying that they are all inside me, all have feelings, all need to speak and NEED to have their own say. If I am ever to know that I am worth something in this world, they all must have their own say! I must hear each one, feel each one, connect and bond with each one, and move them out of heart, up my throat, into my mouth and out of my lips, into the space where the page can get turned. Out there, where once I got knocked down.
I was TOTALLY AWARE of each one of them!
He was asking me a few hard and horrible questions. The kind of which he has asked thousands and thousands of times over. Covering everything about anything, no limits, no respect, anything and everything equal and ripe. Ones that are and have been deemed abusive by my Shrink of Now. And that finally felt most abusive, insulting, disgusting, not right, boundary-less to me. And really not about me at all, but about him.
“Why are you so Fat Pieces?”
My heart sank. I became the chair. I suddenly was in My Place.
Devastation. Hadn’t he heard anything I’d been saying? Horrible horrible horrible. I felt Numb coming over me. SAFE, keep me safe! Oh GOD keep me SAFE!! Body getting bloated, the new manifestation of my stress. Struggles to stay present surrounding me. Crazy coming back. Stay present, stay present, ALLOW, ALLOW, was my mantra. WAIT, Why the fuck do I want to do that, this present space is HORRIBLE!!!
AAAAAA and there it is! The answer to Numb, a part of Crazy, all in Safe space.
Cause present is just horrible!!!
I did my best to “answer” him. But it all sounded like I was defending myself which I wouldn’t and will NOT do. Why didn’t HE know why I was overweight. Hadn’t he been paying attention to any fucking thing I’d tried to say or that he'd heard about throught Mom, up to this point! NO!!!!!
Child just sat there devastated. SHE just sat there, in silence.…..
For a LONG while.….
Listening to the nothingness, to the horror of being asked. Such a question telling me everything, the most important being, that he just doesn’t, hasn’t ever, SEEN ME. And that what he does SEE, he doesn’t like. So the question is really a cover up for, you are NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE MY DAUGHTER.
Couldn’t he answer that question for himself? How many ways must a person be told, something is wrong, some one they love is not happy, is struggling, has real Body imbalances, Body life Changes, HAS MEDICAL CONDITIONS!!!
I just don’t remember. It was too horrible. It was uncomfortable. It was just horrifying. It was so sad. We sat in silence, for what seemed like forever! Him begging me to talk to him, to try to talk to him. I was scared. Scared that if I opened my mouth I’d get more of the same. My present moment NOW, I knew was no different than my present moment way back when. Just scared, scared, scared. And so totally hurt, hurt, hurt. My present was just horrible.
His begging to talk encouraged me to do so. My needing to speak out, encouraged me to do so. I don’t know how I said any of what I did say, I know that I spoke, I know that most of what I said FLOORED HIM, and kept FLOORING HIM.
I don’t know how I sounded. If it came out in full sentences, cracked up lines, just a word here and there, I have no idea, I just know I spoke.
Some where my TEENAGER screamed out!
Some where NOW told him that I had been on a Jenny Craig for almost one year and had been maintaining my weight the entire time. FLOORED FUCKER in front of me! I KNOW ALL he sees is FAT ON FAT, the growing of FAT. He judges everyone by the way they look. DON’T BE FAT around my DAD. Cause then you have to prove to him that you matter and that you have a brain!
He stares at me while I eat. Has even when I was THIN.
And then when I haven’t eaten, or when he feels “sorry for me” he hands me a bar of chocolate.
But at the dinner table, in a fancy restaurant, he stares.… eyes screaming at me DON’T YOU DARE EAT ANOTHER BITE!
I have to fight hard not to look at him at all. I KNOW he is staring but try to eat anyways. It has mattered not what shape I have been in, nor at what age, even at my best of Body Construction, he stared. It’s HORRIBLE!!
Finding out that I am aware of my weight, and that I even already chose to do something about the part of it I have control over, FLOORED HIM!
GOOD GOD THE MAN WAS WRONG ??!
Most of what did come out of his mouth, was the man I know Mr. FIX-IT.
I really LOATH HIS Mr. FIX-IT. I LOATH him and I am truly scared of him. The things he says are mean, they imply that I know nothing. That I have not paid attention to any aspect of my own life. It implies all sorts of things, mainly that I am too stupid to have ever had a decent thought or idea in my life. The implications are vast, and devastating. And have left me numb and crazy for months on end. Sometimes taking up to a full year to recuperate, only to crash down after the next time of visiting.
I have worked VERY hard to heal my own self from this craziness I found much safety in.
I just don’t remember what came after what came or before something else. Other things were said, but as PROUD as I am for having stayed and not run, for having tried to speak out and up, for having done my VERY BEST.… I just can’t go there right now. My Mind is overwhelmed. This is the simplest recollection of it all, for now, my MIND and SOUL are telling me to write this part out, and MOVE ON.
At some other point in time of that same late afternoon....
Since the first response “was so successful”.…… geezzzzz.….
then came.…
“Why is your hair always such a mess?”
Pieces of Parts
Words can abuse.
There are no “signs.” there just aren’t any pointers: no bruises to be seen.
How could I say then, that I am being or have been abused?
Cause right now, and many thousands of times in my past, I feel very beaten up deep inside me. My soul, my little girl, feels beaten up and put down and tossed all the way the fuck around. Rag Dolly.
I’m sure now, that much of it has been coming at me in the form of two things.
One: It is really ALL ABOUT THEM!
How much of an embarrassment I’ve been to each of them, but mostly my Father, with my Mother following suit.
Two: It has been about how TO FIX ME, YESTERDAY!
I was born “broken.” I have remained broken. And much of what is or has been said to me, has been in the house of “I only said those things cause I thought they would help you - to fix you.”
Therefore, how could I look and say anything, or even feel any of it, as being Abusive?
I don’t know. I don’t understand how someone would think that “picking on me” about many things I can not change, could be called “trying to help me.” And then THEY wondered why I would always get beaten up at school. Any school in these United States.
I had a bully out there, cause I had bullies at home! DUH!!!
I had bullies for “boyfriends” cause my Dad is a bully. DUH!!
I had bullies for “girlfriends” cause my Mom is a bully. DUH!!
I Fought like a Mother-Fucker while living at home! I beat up my Mother. Got much horrible pleasure out of it. I hated her! All those fucking WAVES. All those fucking GAMES. All those YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGHs. Nothing ever seemed stable. Where was some plain old nurturing, the kind where it’s given out without expectation of something being given back. I was MAD AS HELL and had not one word to know how to express such feelings. She still plays such games, it’s unreal!
THEY sent me to a Shrink at less than three years of age. I have been going to one where ever I’ve lived all my life. Thank God NOW. But there is some serious resentment that no one else seemed to ever be going!
And some how, THEY seemed to think, that if I went, I could get help and then come home and what? Fix them?
How?
How does a little thing, get help, and then come home to the same madness? How? How does she “work” on the junk being hurled at her faster than spit, having nothing to do with her, cause it’s being played out by STRONG ADULT EGO’s!?
How does she then return to school and deal with the bullies?
And THEY think I stopped talking in school when I was in little kid school, cause of something that happened there! PLEASE!
They were a part of that! I’m sure now, it was about something having been done at school that I got NOT GOOD ENOUGH shit for at home.
HOME!! HOME!!! HOME!!!
What ever the case maybe, no one was going out to get some real help for themselves. It was really left up to me, in the long run. It still is.
So where did I go? Within. Quiet in little kiddie school, quiet still, until now. Safe and quiet, and totally lonely as all hell! Angry and fighting with fists and nasty mouth. But still keeping it all in, under safe blue spaces.
My Father took it upon himself to offer me words of “HELP” once again, just now. I struggled not to be of old. To stay present in the room, and not RUN LIKE HELL, in Body movement, and in Spirit. I needed to see both parts of me, in action. I needed to see and feel that I have done my own work, to help my small and very hurt child deep within, the one I have been trying to protect all along. I let go and went into a place I know very well. Role playing. I am good at it. I often do it, when alone, in order to figure out what is mine and what is not.
I allowed all persons within me to have their say. I allowed CHILD to sit there in silence until even one word could come up and out. I allowed TEENAGE to scream and shout, to show me the frustrations in front of me. I allowed KNOWING to watch. And I allowed NOW to speak with the words she has learned and developed into. No more denying that they are all inside me, all have feelings, all need to speak and NEED to have their own say. If I am ever to know that I am worth something in this world, they all must have their own say! I must hear each one, feel each one, connect and bond with each one, and move them out of heart, up my throat, into my mouth and out of my lips, into the space where the page can get turned. Out there, where once I got knocked down.
I was TOTALLY AWARE of each one of them!
He was asking me a few hard and horrible questions. The kind of which he has asked thousands and thousands of times over. Covering everything about anything, no limits, no respect, anything and everything equal and ripe. Ones that are and have been deemed abusive by my Shrink of Now. And that finally felt most abusive, insulting, disgusting, not right, boundary-less to me. And really not about me at all, but about him.
“Why are you so Fat Pieces?”
My heart sank. I became the chair. I suddenly was in My Place.
Devastation. Hadn’t he heard anything I’d been saying? Horrible horrible horrible. I felt Numb coming over me. SAFE, keep me safe! Oh GOD keep me SAFE!! Body getting bloated, the new manifestation of my stress. Struggles to stay present surrounding me. Crazy coming back. Stay present, stay present, ALLOW, ALLOW, was my mantra. WAIT, Why the fuck do I want to do that, this present space is HORRIBLE!!!
AAAAAA and there it is! The answer to Numb, a part of Crazy, all in Safe space.
Cause present is just horrible!!!
I did my best to “answer” him. But it all sounded like I was defending myself which I wouldn’t and will NOT do. Why didn’t HE know why I was overweight. Hadn’t he been paying attention to any fucking thing I’d tried to say or that he'd heard about throught Mom, up to this point! NO!!!!!
Child just sat there devastated. SHE just sat there, in silence.…..
For a LONG while.….
Listening to the nothingness, to the horror of being asked. Such a question telling me everything, the most important being, that he just doesn’t, hasn’t ever, SEEN ME. And that what he does SEE, he doesn’t like. So the question is really a cover up for, you are NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE MY DAUGHTER.
Couldn’t he answer that question for himself? How many ways must a person be told, something is wrong, some one they love is not happy, is struggling, has real Body imbalances, Body life Changes, HAS MEDICAL CONDITIONS!!!
I just don’t remember. It was too horrible. It was uncomfortable. It was just horrifying. It was so sad. We sat in silence, for what seemed like forever! Him begging me to talk to him, to try to talk to him. I was scared. Scared that if I opened my mouth I’d get more of the same. My present moment NOW, I knew was no different than my present moment way back when. Just scared, scared, scared. And so totally hurt, hurt, hurt. My present was just horrible.
His begging to talk encouraged me to do so. My needing to speak out, encouraged me to do so. I don’t know how I said any of what I did say, I know that I spoke, I know that most of what I said FLOORED HIM, and kept FLOORING HIM.
I don’t know how I sounded. If it came out in full sentences, cracked up lines, just a word here and there, I have no idea, I just know I spoke.
Some where my TEENAGER screamed out!
Some where NOW told him that I had been on a Jenny Craig for almost one year and had been maintaining my weight the entire time. FLOORED FUCKER in front of me! I KNOW ALL he sees is FAT ON FAT, the growing of FAT. He judges everyone by the way they look. DON’T BE FAT around my DAD. Cause then you have to prove to him that you matter and that you have a brain!
He stares at me while I eat. Has even when I was THIN.
And then when I haven’t eaten, or when he feels “sorry for me” he hands me a bar of chocolate.
But at the dinner table, in a fancy restaurant, he stares.… eyes screaming at me DON’T YOU DARE EAT ANOTHER BITE!
I have to fight hard not to look at him at all. I KNOW he is staring but try to eat anyways. It has mattered not what shape I have been in, nor at what age, even at my best of Body Construction, he stared. It’s HORRIBLE!!
Finding out that I am aware of my weight, and that I even already chose to do something about the part of it I have control over, FLOORED HIM!
GOOD GOD THE MAN WAS WRONG ??!
Most of what did come out of his mouth, was the man I know Mr. FIX-IT.
I really LOATH HIS Mr. FIX-IT. I LOATH him and I am truly scared of him. The things he says are mean, they imply that I know nothing. That I have not paid attention to any aspect of my own life. It implies all sorts of things, mainly that I am too stupid to have ever had a decent thought or idea in my life. The implications are vast, and devastating. And have left me numb and crazy for months on end. Sometimes taking up to a full year to recuperate, only to crash down after the next time of visiting.
I have worked VERY hard to heal my own self from this craziness I found much safety in.
I just don’t remember what came after what came or before something else. Other things were said, but as PROUD as I am for having stayed and not run, for having tried to speak out and up, for having done my VERY BEST.… I just can’t go there right now. My Mind is overwhelmed. This is the simplest recollection of it all, for now, my MIND and SOUL are telling me to write this part out, and MOVE ON.
At some other point in time of that same late afternoon....
Since the first response “was so successful”.…… geezzzzz.….
then came.…
“Why is your hair always such a mess?”
Pieces of Parts
posted by Pieces Of Parts at Sunday, October 23, 2005
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