Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Wow @Silenus

I'm holding onto your last poem.

Thank you

This is me wondering how to get through and being honest with myself....

Letting go:

Letting go is hard

Acceptingn is even harder

To understand the why's

is too difficult to grasp

My head goes round in circles

trying to find reasons for what happened

i cannot find a reason

to justify your behaviour

i don't know how to let go

how to forgive accept

or let it be

but i know that i am not like you

for i am a better person

and you are the best you can be

it hurts me so much to write this

i don't even know why i am

i guess i'm becoming to realise

that my life will never be the same again

i trtied all these years to have get togethers

to keep the family together

i tried to keep the peace

and it got me nowhere

the pain, the hurt, the torture

my heart is broken in two

i feel i need to show you

what you did and said to me

how hurtful that was, how hurt i am

how many tears ive cried

how many desks i've slammed

But you are who you are

and i guess you tried your best

to parent me from how you knew

i just wish it was different again

i need to learn to forget, forgive and live

i need to accept this is how it is

and let it be

the pain is too raw

i can't even think

i wish there was an easier way

to show you how much pain i'm in

but self harm, hurting myself

is one way my mind things

but i know you would laugh it off

and then i would be tortured again

i'm not doing this to me

i will forgive and let go one day

but for now there is so much anger

rage, hurt, rejection and tears

the pain is too high to just let it go

i hope you understand that one day

you will see what you've done

to your oldest daughter and

see how she has suffered

for you are the lonely one

you are the one who is sad

for i have my 3 children

who i know love me to bits

andn i will never do what you did

reject, abandon the love

i will always be there for my children

in good times, bad times anytime

i will try hard to let go ...............

hello @Zoe7

sorry that was not my poem. that was written by Silenus. It was meant to read as being quoted.

Oh i feel awful now.

I hope I havent offended anyone.

hello @BlueBay

as i read your thoughts, i felt much pain, rage, grief within the lines.

yes you said is too painful to put down.

you took that step and you did just that.

keep writing.

pain can be so poetic where is the justice in that?

hello @Silenus

your poem starts out with questioning & turning the question back at yourself.

when we look back at our younger selves, at our relationships within our families, we who are mind travellers, question ourselves.

Couldnt possibly just be another family member, it has to be because of the way we are.

I now look back and see this differently. I was a child with many many questions. I was loved, fed, clothed, educated, included in family outings etc etc. there was no physical affection shown. i yearned for hugs, my twin did not appear to be affected by this. I was told to stop my weeping. (why stop? why was I weeping?) My parents loved us but were unable to demonstrate their love physically. I now forgive them.

In any relationship there are at minimum 2 people responsible for the relationship. if something is not working it needs to be talked about, feelings expressed, suggestions, compromises, ideas swapped. relationships are learning about each other, ongoing discoveries, always learning, sharing, not excluding.

If one person is left feeling guilty, asking questions, asking why? the other person has not fulfilled their part.

yes we are travelling differently, unrecognisable, discovering ourselves.

we are mind travellers, each on our own unique journey.. pain taking us somewhere..... teaching us... begging us to look into our hearts.. seek what we long for from the outer in the inner.

As mind travellers we move at a different ratio, on a different level to those who have not had pain in the mind.

We are labelled, boxed, packaged, taped, stamped, enclosed. We are sent away, we move away, we are separate.

We endure, struggle, hide, give up, come back, go away,

as you have so aptly previously written what is time?

"what a gift this is ..loving compassion ... sharing and caring....together we"

apologies in advance if you dont understand a word of what i have dribbled above. this is just an indication of the chaos in my mind at present.

@Former-Member Please don't feel awful. I don't think what I was trying to express came across the right way! I was not seeing it as negative in any way - just thought-provoking! You certainly didn't offend ME. Also sorry I didn't make the connection re it being Silenus' poem. Have read a lot of his amazing work but somehow missed that one. I hope this makes you feel better - really sorry if I sounded like I was offended in anyway - definitely not the case.

hello @Silenus

thank you

I am happy that you found sense and insight in my words.

turning questions back to oneself - this is how my mind works. i am told that I am a very deep thinker- I often put myself in the other person's situation and think how would i feel if that was happening to me. I also at time take on some of their pain.

This I now realise is very draining. Taking on another's pain does not help anyone as it does not lessen the pain of the owner.

This is very much a large part of who I am along with my memories hidden with haze.

"after all, it is the only source of reference that I have" - this comment I question.

My thoughts are that yes we can always ask ourself the question and if we do not find the answer we look elsewhere in every part of our world. We might have to ask ourselves about the actual question itself...... is it the question that needs to be slightly altered.... As in every moment nothing remains the same after ... our question therefore must also change.

Always asking questions, always learning. This I will do until my last breath..... at the chagrin of many.

This is who I am.

It is a good thing to think differently to another, to question differently, to react differently, creating interesting conversation. Different ideas, different discussions therefore always learning.

Written in the here and now, on this screen...

slid

into a place where

long worn grooves of

deep body habit

flourish in the dirt

making mud pies in

a hot back yard the

taste is bitter

loving the ugliness of

the deep body its

sweat and its grease and

pungent odour its

freely unbrushed hair

and legs of fur

its old Lilith

brain chatters on

about this should and

that will yet

deep body habit is

worn so easily so

biologically the

brain is small