Please don’t sue me

I have read a lot about domestic violence. In some cases I find myself blaming the victim and in others I can sympathize with them. I believe it is only human to lean one way or the other with hearing of such terrible things. Yet there is one thing that pisses me off. The idea that men can not be victims of abuse. Or if they are it is only those in same-sex relationships. This is because time and time again people respond to cases with a male victim that he is just weak. Men should be able to stand up to women. Cases where men do not mean that they are weak and deserve it. So what if they got raped, they should enjoy the free sex.

Right?

It is bothersome really…no that is not the correct word. I feel a much stronger emotion when faced with the people who believe in those things. Yes, male victims are statistically lower but they are still important. Men should be allowed to come forward without being ridiculed and hated…or envied. What is wrong with people that they envy such an encounter???

I have read a lot about domestic violence. I am human in the way I judge the situation. But no matter the reason I believe that everyone has the right to justice. Everyone has a right to be heard. Everyone has a right to seek freedom without…judgement.

Thanks for coming.

Side note: Stop shitting on LGBT couples people. Seriously I have read a crappy ton of books lately and why is it that every book I have read someone is leaving an abusive relationship. Find another reason to make people break up LGBT authors. Seriously. Can’t we have them break up over something mundane like not being in love anymore. Or just like idk maybe one of them had to move away for a job. Or hell kill one of them. In the last 30 books I have read with a romantic theme pretty much 70% of them had something to do with someone leaving an abusive relationship. Granted I am reading a series where everyone and they momma got a sob story but come on!! I read a lot about domestic violence, from real life stories to fictional ones. Sob stories are kind of my thing if you haven’t been able to tell.

Sleep aid

My daughter is crying in the other room

But I am to scared to go get her

I am afraid of what I will see

A giant figure standing over her

Caressing her whimpers

I am not strong enough to fight it

So I hide

My daughter is crying in her room

But I am to afraid to save her

I know what is standing there

A figure made of bad dreams

Touching her face as she shakes and whispers

A/N when my daughter was a newborn I was often afraid that something would happen to her. I remember watching all these videos about kids dying from SIDs or some other illness. I would constantly wake up and check on her. Doing the finger under the nose check just to make sure she was still breathing.

As she aged I started to have other fears. As I would open her bedroom door to check on her I would suddenly think that someone is standing there waiting.

They wouldn’t harm us but they would sit there. To this very day, and I do mean very, I am still afraid to go and check on her. I have to work myself up to it. I often hear her when she wakes up but I do not move until she comes to my door asking to come in. I stay silent… I know this cowardly but the person in my head is often one who loves her and hates me. To it I am a monster and she must be protected.

I am afraid but I know she will be forever safe.

Voices leave no choice

Choices
By Zoha Lixue

I have waking nightmares.
Voices in my head
People wondering why I am not already dead
They ask me as a favor
To give up before I am able
I can give them all my excuses
But we all know it will be useless
I wasn’t made for this
And they know it
I ignore them
These horrendous voices
I pretend that they aren’t there
Impression in the wind
Hopefully one day they will end
In my head knowing they will one day win.

I can see her

I can see her body floating as I close my eyes. I can see her hurting in every way imaginable as I stand by unable to do a thing. Sometimes I am dying and sometimes I am not. Either way I am always out of reach. I put my hand towards her, grasping, for just a touch. But I never make it, not in time anyways. I watch the light fade from her eyes. I watch as her beautiful smile twist into a look of pain.

This is my everyday nightmare.

As I close my eyes I see her dying. I see her suffering in unimaginable ways. I can’t do anything but watch. Either dead or alive I am always reaching for her.

This is my everyday. When I try to talk to people about it they just call me paranoid or don’t understand.

I can’t sleep unless she is beside me but there are days when that makes it worse. I take every pill the doctor gives me. Say my prayers before bed. Yet nothing is working.

I can see her hurting and I can’t make it stop.

Every day my daughter dies and I know it is all my fault.

E is for Enough. Part 2 of Grief ~Anger

Pretty angel

Make me bleed

Do you hate the world

As much as you hate me?

Is that what made you leave

Why you didn’t say goodbye

Is that the reason

You took your own life

Did I make you suffer?

Cause you to much pain?

Is that the reason decided to leave that day

Did it hurt?

Did you cry?

How did it feel when you decided to die?

I bet you wanted me to feel so sad?

Was it all apart of you plan

I bet you wanted me to feel so alone?

Did you mean to be gone so long?

What made you decide that it was ok

To bloody yourself beyond repair?

Did you assume that I would care?

What was flowing through your mind?

Did you want the world to leave me behind?

What made you do it?

Was it truly me?

You are dead now

But are you really free?

A/N

As I have stated before, I am actually pretty suicidal. To help combat that I write poems written as though I have died. It helps me see reality so to speak.

I feel the need to explain this one a bit just because of how uncomfortable it can make people. This is part of my stages of grief stories but in this one the person who is dead is trying to figure out why they did it. When they ask themselves if they hate the world then they do themselves they are basically saying that instead of living and punishing the world they jusf decided to end themselves.

There are so many routes this person could have taken and they settled on the final one. I may habe to rewrite this cause I just yawned and confused myself.

In sickness and in health

Warning :self harm, suicidal ideation, bulimia, anorexia, mental disorders.

I got sick today. Like really sick.

And I know what you are thinking, why the hell did I just tell you about my five min date with the butt throne.

Well my dear people I am telling you this because it made me feel good.

Yes as I sat there puking my guts out all I could think of was

‘This isn’t so bad at all. A few months of this and I can finally be pretty’

Even know I sit here trying to make more come up because I want to lose this weight. I want to be skinny because to me that equals beauty. Now I do not hold this standard to everyone. People can be beautiful no matter what their size may be but I can’t. I will never be beautiful. I will never be someone who people want to give seconds looks. I am barely someone they want to see at the corner of their eye.

Not to say I believe me to be disgusting but I do find myself to be distasteful…borderline disgusting.

I hate myself so much that for a mins while getting sick I wanted to keep doing it. I wanted it all to go away. I kept thinking about all the disgusting foods I can shove down my throat just to have a reason to puke.

So I can be skinny

So I can be beautiful.

I will like to make a point to say that I also have the flu or a cold..whatever sickness this is I have it.

So I did not set out for today to puke up my delicious chicken tortilla soup with extra sour cream combined with a to die foe root beer float. I would have actually liked to have been able to digest that, thank you very much.

But once it happened, I felt relief. I felt alive.

This reminded me of something though. It reminded me of my addiction to cutting.

Both of these cause me great pain but in the end they bring me the greatest pleasure.

Through the pain I know that I am alive. I feel powerful. I feel beautiful. I feel as though I can finally see the light. Do you know how addicting it can be to have all that when your normal is constant darkness and paranoia. To finally have some clarity.

I can see the colors!

All the pretty pretty colors.

Sadly,

I know how destructive this can be. I know what it looks like for someone to starve themselves to lose weight. I know what it looks like for someone to accidently kill themselves.

I know the end result of my addiction.

So I don’t follow through with my temptations. No matter how much my mind tells me that I need to.

Instead I wait with anticipation for the next I cut or burn my skin by accident. I await that moment when I can spend hours in the bathroom due to some illness.

I no longer inflict these wounds on myself.

Instead I wait for someone else to do it for me.

All praise mother Gaia and karma.

May they serve me the pain I need to stay alive.

Tomorrow

Today I do not really feel good. My depression is getting to me. I can not leave my house unless someone actually makes me leave. I can’t say no to invite no matter how much I want to.

I sit and struggle to stay awake. Sleeping forever seems like such a good idea right now.

I get so frustrated….so angry with just about everything.

My daughter was singing today and it felt as though she was scrapping her nails against a chalkboard. Not to say she couldn’t sing but the sound. The fact that she was happy and singing made me so mad. I had to leave the room. I apologized for telling her to stop. No! Not telling, I freaking yelled for her to stop.

She got so upset so I apologized, but the anger was still there.

I had to leave the room for a bit. I didn’t go back for maybe 30 mins or more. Just hid in my room and cried.

I am doing this all on my own. I have friends but I can’t feel it. Like there is a void that is stopping me from accepting the fact that people…Care

It hurts. I know that it is there and it hurts. I hate myself for feeling this way, but who can I talk to? I feel as though I am being judged all the time. So who can I talk to? Who can really help me understand that things are not what they seem.

My?

Maybe…

Honestly I am just going through the motions.

Wading through this until it ends. That is all I can do. So I do it.

I am ever grateful for the people who put up with me regardless.