THE CHAIN
by: Diane Taylor aka Catta
What forges your chain?
The rights set forth in the Constitution are important and ones we all, from time to time, take for granted. But I’m talking about personal liberties; the choices each of us make regarding our own situations and the attitudes from which we weave the fabric of our days.
Have you ever been in the company of someone who is overbearing and
insensitive to the feelings of others? I have and it has taken all my
self-control to resist the urge to set this person straight and hurt
them the way they so carelessly hurt those around them. I have not
always succeeded, either, and, though it is painful to admit, my
righteous outbursts more often than not have had no affect.
But from
the moment I let people like this push me past my common sense, another
link is forged in the chain that represents my own fears and failures
and all I end up doing is securing myself more firmly to my own
weaknesses and insecurities.
Of course, I can justify any behavior of mine by wrapping myself in self pity. I have been through hell and have earned the right to do whatever I feel necessary when I feel threatened, right?
Clink.
And if I misread a situation and hurt someone needlessly, well, they'll just have to take into consideration what I've been through and get over it.
Clink.
Of course, most of the time people terrify me and I let myself be used by anyone and everyone because I am either too afraid to speak up for myself or too convinced that I deserve ill treatment because I am, basically, worthless. Right?
Clink.
They say that what happened to me wasn't my fault but I must have been at least partly responsible because I didn't do everything I could to prevent being hurt. I can think, now, of a thousand things I could have done and didn't. And I have heard people whispering that this could've never happened to them.
Clink.
They're too careful. They're too smart which means I'm not. How can I believe those who say I am blameless when it is their voices I hear telling me what they would have done if it had been them? How dare I attempt to grow stronger, seek to believe in myself once more?
Clink.
I don't really deserve such luxuries and I don't deserve to be understood or have my feelings respected or my voice heard so I remain silent in my shame.
Clink.
And when the nightmares and flashbacks come, what am I supposed to do? Seek professional help, call a crisis line, open my heart to a counselor? First, why should anyone care to sit and listen to a stranger whine and, second, what could anyone do if I sought help?
Clink.
Tell me I am a valuable person and reiterate that I am blameless; just a victim of someone who had the urge to hurt someone else? Why should I trust them? I used to trust myself and look what happened and now I'm supposed to go to a total stranger and lay my shame in their lap and feel good about it? I don't think so.
Clink.
I can handle it and, even if I can't, what difference will it make? And if I behave badly, triggered by things no one else would even consider a problem, well, doesn't that just make my point? I am flawed, stained, broken and it really doesn't matter whose fault it is. What happened happened and I'll handle it the best way I can, ok?
Clink.
Feel the weight of your chain? I feel mine. Everyday. And each time someone let me down or betrayed my trust or brushed away my pain as if it were just an annoying fly, another link was forged and the chain pulled me down with its weight until, one day, it just wasn't worth the effort to stand up anymore so I sat down, cushioned by my misery and the knowledge that no one could help me.
Clink.
And as time went on and no magic happened to free me, I sank deeper into the darkness, my pride convoluted now so that all my strength was focused on making those who didn't read my suffering think I was fine, just fine.
Clink.
Everyone I had dared to entrust with my weakness had turned against me, thinking I wouldn't know and even if I did, what could I do about it? The darkness I had wrapped around me grew oddly comforting and I snuggled into it, seeking whatever comfort I could and the spark of hope that someone would come with the key and free me grew dimmer and dimmer....
Clink.
And as if all this weren't enough, there was something in the darkness
with me; a sharp, annoying item that I couldn't identify and wished
away. But it remained and when the weight of my chain finally forced me
prone, this thing jabbed me annoyingly, Angry, I fumbled for it,
shifting the interlocking links of the chain until my hand touched
something small and cool. I lifted it to my face and, in the twilight
that was my world, the tiny key glowed dully. My heart racing, I
struggled to sit up and examine the object more closely.
Where had this
thing come from?
No one could have left it here so that meant
--
With a strength born of desperation, I fumbled with the last link, gripping the small key tightly as I fitted it into the lock.
It has not been too long since I discovered I held the key to my own independence. I am still chained and when I get scared or discouraged or hurt another link is added, just like before. But there is the knowledge that my personal freedom lives and breathes in my hand; that there are a few - a very few - on whom I can lean when the weight of my chain is too much. I don't want them to hold me up forever. The day is coming when I can do that for myself. All I need is time and patience.
I understand that I may not ever be completely free of the chain. I
understand that I am responsible for my own emancipation and I am also
aware of those who would, if they could, take the key from me and do the
unlocking themselves.
I also understand that my key will fit no hand
but my own and that freedom, given as a gift, while appreciated for a
moment, cannot equal the preciousness of freedom earned.
For every survivor of sexual trauma, every day must be independence day; a commemoration, not of that which keeps us down, but of our own awareness which will, eventually, set us free.
Stay strong. Hold tightly to your key. And celebrate yourself.
You're worth it.
© catta aka Diane Taylor
CATTA'S CHAMBER
Featuring Beautiful Poetry & Ballads by Catta!!
Pssst! Catta is a PUBLISHED Poet (or is it Poetress)?