Shut up you sexy bitch! 

Would you listen to him? 

Once, we were strangers. Briefly,  we became acquainted. Temporarily, he was lovely. Then came the swearing, just general swearing, which then turned into name calling. I told myself, it’s only a mistake. He meant it not. We were yet to meet. Slowly, excitement fizzled into trepidation. My mind, panicked, making excuses for behaviour bad. Further fueling the fire, demands for nudes and unwarranted sexual videos. Yet, somehow, a pattern old chained me down. The churning wheels of an abuse buried somewhere, stirring, a fragility daring to waken. I stand my ground. 

“Shut up, you sexy bitch, or I will slap you. Do you want a slap?” 

And that is where, finally, I stood again. This was my first, clear rejection of abuse- verbal, passive aggressive, sexual, emotional and manipulative. Finally, I united with respect, inner to refute the nerve of men, who over and over again, believed this was the way to treat other humans. That this outright and socially accepted disrespect of women everywhere in ways, many was the “norm” of our supposed progressive culture.

My message loudly, clear. It’s intoxicated high, a liberation centuries old.

“Please, do not contact me again. I wish to not engage in anything further as I believe that you cannot respect women.” 

Whatsapp: Blocked. 

Phone: Blocked. 

Email: Blocked. 
Thankfully, no further noise from him. Months, pass by. I forget. He exists no more. Again, this evil rears his head, in the guise of a number new.

“Hello, you sexy bitch.” 

Cycle repeated over. A year of this tug and war. Today, was the last straw. Why does my no,not mean anything? Why does this unwanted war continue? My desire, to return to ways old, abusive of a child, want to come out to play. Yet, I remain still. I do not fight, anymore. I already won. 

Together, we stand as one. Our place solid. 

“I am no bitch. Do you want a slap? I bet not.” 

I hope you don’t listen to him either. He is the problem. 

What would you do? 

The merry go round …

The merry-go-round ….

Almost always appears to bring up magical, luminous, memories in my excited mind. But then, I seem to forget moments that weren’t as merry as Miss Merry promised.

Again, this began with thinking. Yes, I dangerously do that way too much. It does nevertheless provide some insightful  light bulb moments.

The burning question:

“Regardless of your past experiences, do you get stuck and triggered by events, emotions, memories that you may not even realise are happening?”

Up until now, I thought this fate was sealed for the likes of myself.  Troubled childhood the culprit evil. This latest hangover of emotional choas, leaving a taste for a truth outside of trauma.

Maybe, all of us fall to this prey?

Like what, you ask? Surely, I’ll tell you, as I know you’re eagerly await what comes next 😝.

Of late, I had asked a friend, male in this incident, a few questions, which I received no answers too. Growing impatient with each passing moment. Slowly, then impulsive, demands and impetuous behaviour, force their way in. Yet, the door remained shut. Finally, a phone call.  One, he ended abruptly. Him knowing, I was upset. Me, feeling terribly confused by this silent onslaught of tears. A follow up call, concluded with ” my over-sensitivity” being the real problem; without any real understanding on either part.

On retrospect, it seems all very trivial and an unnecessary waste of energy. Nevertheless, in those precise moments and those proceeding it, I felt as if a slow choking had erupted within. An unknown, nameless fear, a friend familiar. Is this message, a wishful unintended bitch slap maybe? Unlikely, as I understood his position. Although, it took longer than anticipated to understand my own. Unfortunately, the merry-go-round, had started working long before somewhere in the distance.

Could I stop it? Hmmm …..  well, when I didn’t hear its out of control churning, how would I? It’s dark shadow lingering like stale scent over my sense of self, still bitter slightly.

At the time what was the message, falling upon my fragile ears?

* Being ignored
* Being unimportant
* Disregarded
* Unheard
* I am the problem

Where did this madness creep in from? Honestly, the answer was simple. It was my deadly, unspoken, long standing pattern of triggers. The friendly face of abuse, taunting again. Reminder, that it’s hole in my soul, ripened fresh. After two days of dissection, I realise. This sweet subconscious familiarity, is an automatic response to the pattern not the actual events. I wonder why I didn’t see it, even when it began peddling the same story?

But then, this little voice, sings in my ear. Is it really all abuse related? Or would you respond the same way to something you didn’t understand or like? After all, my requests weren’t offensive, perhaps at best annoying. So, then why this silent, internal hissy fit?

Perhaps, in life at some point, we are all subjected to such ills and the past hasn’t  gripped only some lucky souls. The lesson, in the message it self rather than the intention. Here, with hope I jump off the merry-go-round to find another, brightly colourful one.

Are you with me?

Inspired Chats

Unspoken silence woven in stillness silky. 

Divided moments, fragile in time and space.

Words gentle, delicate music to ears small.

Captured precious memories, imprinted on a mind drifting.

Sleep. Awake. Sleepless.

Unfilled dreams, filled by desires many.

Eyes wide, a trance hypnotic.

Once anticipating foot steps, warm against sand testing.

Dreams. Dreamless. Dreaming.

Joyful fingers and toes tracing journeys, tender on skin, reminiscing.

Dancing limbs thudding to a beating heart.

Music, unheard by others; a lullaby sweet.

Tears of a child, an ocean in my fingertips.

One tear yours.

One tear mine.

Small hand in strong ones, tingling in magic electric.

It’s roar, ecstatic.

A solid bond forged in unspoken truths.

Overwhelmed hearts, waiting in patience forced.

Excitement, a dream pending.

Promises fierce, remaining solid through the test of time.

Anticipating hope bursting with energy bright.

Words unspoken, spoken in moments many.

Laughter hungry, all around.

Unspoken words of father to a daughter small.

For our children.

Are you a father? What are your thoughts?

Please be kind, considerate and thoughtful.

A world of our making, a world without hate and absent parents. ❤