in 1985
in Jackson, Mississippi
in a shit brown ’69 Buick
in the driveway of my grandparent’s home
we sat silently
each for our own reasons
my mom sat in the front passenger’s seat waiting
clinging to the bouquet of flowers that somehow made it all ok
baby sister sat in the back seat beside me
quiet for once but only cause she didn’t know what was going on
dad sat seething in the driver’s seat
waiting for me to break the silence
to respond to their seemingly simple announcement and a question
They were getting back together
we were moving back home
and all he wanted to know was, “Isn’t that great, Melanie?”
They didn’t expect my shock, my hesitation
They didn’t know my horror or my ultimate resignation
that the brief respite had ended, as i should have know it would
when he repeated his question with that edge in his voice
I quickly mumbled “yeah”
but the damage had been done
“Don’t you love our daddy, girl?”
“Yes sir.”
“I don’t believe you, guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”
~Melanie Thomason
Nightmare. I’m so sorry.
Yes it was the beginning of another chapter of the nightmare.
This is somewhat menacing. Sent a shiver down my spine.
And so it should…glad you picked up on the feeling i was trying to convey.
Oooh… Shit…
I know right?!
Yeah…
Ohhh noooo–I shudder, and my heart breaks. Your story must be phenomenal. I’m a survivor too, and other than blog poetry, I can’t seem to write the story… Blessings to you โค
Thanks for reading and yes lots of stories to tell. It is difficult but I think it is so important for us to share our truths.
If you have any suggestions as to how I might get started, I’d appreciate hearing from you. I’m about to turn 65, and still dragging around the chains of a wounded past. I’m sick of it. Maybe I should read your book, which sounds amazing.
WELL…of course i think you should read my book(s)…but I am biased, LOL.
As far as getting started that is a toughie. The only thing i can really tell you is to just do it. Just write it it doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be in sequential order…just get it out. You can edit later.
As to dragging that crap around…Here is one suggestion, something that helped me long ago:
Note this doesn’t have be done all in one day… but do it in as few days as possible.
1-Buy some pretty stationary. (Not not book paper. This and writing as opposed to typing will make this more real/cathartic.)
2- Sit down a write letters to anyone in your past who has harmed/abused you in any way. (Don’t worry you will not be mailing these. So do not edit yourself. Write it all out any and everything. What happened, who you feel about it, how it has effected your life, etc.)
3- Write yourself a letter. Be honest. Whatever this needs to be just let the pen/pencil on paper tell you what you need to hear,this could be taking responsibility for your role in certain things or forgiving yourself or even simply giving yourself permission to move on.
4- Take 3 sheets of stationary and write one positive thing about yourself on each one! (I think this may be the hardest step for me)
I know lots of work but its worth it…almost done!
5- READ the letters from steps 2 and 3, (you may be surprised at what you wrote)
6- Now BURN them!!!! Seriously! Burn them and release the shit. Let it go up in smoke and into the universe. I know it seems silly but do it anyway. Do this however feels right….I had a little bonfire outside.
7- Seal each page from step 4 into envelopes and address them to yourself. Now actually get them mailed to you! It might seem a waste of stamp bit it is not. You are worth it and when you get them in the mail treat them like letters from your closest friend. Read them and take them to heart. You can drop them at the post office or you can hand them off to close friends and ask them to mail them to you.
Hope this helps (and all makes sense) Let me know if you have any questions and IF/When you do his!
I really appreciate you taking the time and heart to offer me these suggestions. The 2 things which have held me back, when a counselor suggested them to me years ago, are–one of my abusers told me, “never put anything in writing”; and at 65, I’m terrified I’ll die in the midst of the project, and leave all those icky pages behind for someone (who knows?) to find. Nonetheless, I’ll ponder your ideas anew–particularly “just do it” regarding writing my own book/story. Thanks again โค
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