I have been reading a number of posts on abuse and bullying. There has been some coverage on TV about the same. The impact of child abuse or bullying on the child and the later adult may never be fully understood. One such post I read had a huge impact on me. The author speaks of her own experiences as a survivor. http://nae50.wordpress.com/2013/11/28/might-have-could-have-was-abuse/ And links to a video and song ‘Committing Slow Suicide’ by Scott Stapp from the group Creed. The video is harrowing to watch. It may even have been taken down by now.
The levels of abuse and types suffered by children enrage me. I cannot thole bullying in any form. My reactions are visceral when I read or hear of it. I was bullied by someone as a child. I stopped it. No one else. I took control. But. It left its imprint. I will not and cannot tolerate any sort of control of myself. And view others who seek to exert control as similar to monsters. My experience, however, was as nothing compared to the suffering of others. If people suffer more, they hurt more, it takes longer to heal. And their methods may be quite different and not always effective. The struggles of survivors to heal and find understanding and reasons for the actions of others leave a lifelong mark. And it may break them or make them stronger. Those I have been reading are among some of the strongest people I have ever encountered.
I’m drawn to hurt like moth to flame,
Others’ pain fills me with shame
That angsts I feel, though deep and wounding,
Hold no candle to some depths of hurting.
Mind sets, altered in early days,
Fight with nature’s inherent ways.
A struggle then, a lifelong one,
To come to terms with what was done.
Comprehension and forgiveness
Demand some reasons, any answers.
Dependence on an earthly crutch
May transfer or hide so much.
Seeking some oblivion
From hurts performed by some or one.
That child of then exists right now,
Trapped in time, until somehow
Someone, you, maybe another
Comforts, absolves, helps uncover
What was hidden or openly done,
Unobserved or viewed by some.
Abuse of child in any form
Is not so rare but is not the norm.
Many kinds or types there be
Killing, suffocating, we
Who know the hurt a bully causes,
Inflicting pain, causing losses
Of memories of childhood pleasure,
A time when all should build as treasure.
But stolen by the hands of one,
Abandoned then to struggle on
In adult life with child inside
Who seeks still love, approval, pride
In being who they ought to be
Not discredited and forced to flee
From inner mind where sanctuary
Sublimates or sets them free.
Acknowledgement of all who hurt
From childhood trauma. Not your fault!
Beating, words or actions done
By other must be owned by one
Who perpetrated such a crime,
Robbed innocence, God’s divine
Gift to child and all the world
To view with wonder when beheld.
Those who steal such gift away
Will answer, surely, come the day
When asked, ‘How did you fill your life?’
To answer, ‘I killed a child, as if with knife,
By stabbing at the hearts of pure.’
No one escapes! But some endure
An endless query. Why me? Why then?
To ask those words again, again.
No answers here, I cannot claim,
But trust that love always reclaims
The heart of child for loving much
Is what they do so well, with such
Belief in trust. May, then,
Trust and love, regrow again.
And pain depart or recognise
That no guilt attaches in your eyes.