I didn’t know how to tell
Who to tell
I felt scared and unsafe to tell
I was 9 when I realized something was no longer right
Not good
It was happening as far as back as 5
It felt good
I felt special
I knew to expect physical pain when revealing any kind of truth
But
6 years forward
I NEEDED to tell
I needed to YELL!
I wanted it ALL to stop!
NO MORE!!!
I don’t want to keep remembering THE day of disclosure
I was 15
It is when and where PTSD began and… had NEVER ended
Slapped, punched, made out as the liar, the bad one, trouble maker
“Get out!!! You are disowned from this family!!!!” echo echo echo echo echo echo
Isolation became both my salvation and peace
It’s safer alone
But… I didn’t know with aloneness came blind onset of worthlessness
Suicide
Disassociation
Survival… and surviving meant, for me… Success without “YOU!” I needed no one!!
Proving and earning my worth into International success!!
20 years old…. WHAT?!!!!
He abused more than me?!!
Someone I loved more than life myself?!!!
I felt an unforeseen force wave over me
Unstoppable
He NOW NEEDED to be STOPPED!!
Without fear, immense anger I without hesitation charged him!
Within one year he was found guilty on two counts;
Gross indecency with a minor
Sexual assault
Do I feel better?
I thought I would
I didn’t
Far from it
If family was distant before
I am NOW the very wrong and bad one
Made to stay away
Suicide sets in again
But I survive
Life goes on
Taking any job that has me look like I’m living my best life
Im married now
28 years old
Fast forward I become a Mom
THIS changed EVERYTHING!
Forgiveness
Love
Reflection
Accountability
Advocacy
Education
Healing
All became my hungry quest for being a part of child abuse intervention
But how?
Finding out how meant reaching out for help, asking questions to get answers too where I felt sometimes embarrassed, guarded, vulnerable and protected
It was not a way of living I was used of
Not my normal
A full transformation
Through it all, I discovered where I thought was the weakest to display was quite the opposite for it was within EVERY human being…
When I stopped to listen to another, and another, and another that, it was in OTHER’S sharing where I rose to discover that;
Vulnerability is the GREATEST superhero trait to EVER expose
It breaks all barriers and causes a planet to shift!!!
A planet for sustainable transformational and positive change, possibilities and miracles!!
Today, I HAVE forgiven
Myself
My child offenders
I have reconciled
I am ALWAYS healing because healing is no longer a negative thought for “fixing me”… healing, for me, is a gracious, very worthy lifestyle!
Who am I?
I AM Charmaine Loverin
I would NOT be who and what I am WITHOUT everyone who has contributed to my life, whether comfortable or not
I am FOREVER grateful
💛
Ink blotted canvases
filled with words of
despair and anger,
mixed with an
overwhelming sense
of anguish.
Admittance and guilt
is shown through the
poor excuses of a man.
Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve,
but didn’t know better.
Or rather, knew better but
ignorance stepped in,
shadowing any sense of
wrongdoing and
inappropriateness;
slicing ties of trust that
once were inarguably
bright for all to see.
Now, dull and faint,
nonexistent; severed ties.
The places I once stood
weak and frail with fear
enveloping my figure,
I now stand with empowerment.
My dignity returns.
My worth returns.
My power returns.
New found strength grows
thicker within and I roar,
“No more!”
Author Statement
I had confronted my latest abuser of six years via a written letter, detailing all of the events and how each circumstance affected me. My abuser responded by expressing apologetic guilt while noting no recollection of these events nor his behaviour. This poem is the outcome of confronting him and taking back my power.
A tenuous ego sits waiting for memories folded warm and cozy…aware of their place in the shadows, amongst the mold and cobwebs of emotional death.
The artifacts of youth mark the precipice…without anchorment their purpose long forgotten imprinted remnants.
The dust of dreams coat the surface, penetrating fractures of memories hoarded… stored but never hidden. Always peering out.
Razor sharp tears of anger slash deep along the skin, an attenuate memory provokes
the quicken of flies’ legs, a tickle.
Yet, darkness awakens with the skin swathed in alcohol. Serves the flies’ larger hunger for morsels nestled in the ruptures…
The folds of shadows warm and cozy quell not the soundless gargoyles screaming on the edge of duress…remnant soft dust and dreams in the interstices.
The kindling of regeneration, rejuvenation, and transfiguration
ignite the remnants of dust and pain, building a blaze, releasing the heat of regret…
Welcoming the blessings to let go, as the warmth of transfiguration engulfs the soul,
embers rise to the ethers…illuminating the darkness, home to old fears.
Rise…rise…rise to the occasion, leave room for dreams, the nascent appearance of hope… the inkling of new purpose beckons.
Dust embraces the ethers,
Fear embraces the ethers,
Pain embraces the ethers, scattering and healing.
A heart warmed by the burn barrels embers…envelop relinquishment, envelop freedom, embraces blessings with inner strength for forgiveness
A new path…a new journey, continuing…
Author Statement
I was honored invitation to participate in the poetry project. However, I faltered in the execution of the poem itself until the framework of my artistic endeavors embraced the regeneration and rejuvenation of my personal connection to the five elements, and led me to find my voice. This poem reflects my journey.
Sometimes you got to get through your fear to see the beauty on the other side.
— Poppa Henry, "The Good Dinosaur"
Writing this poem took my deepest feelings and fears out of deep storage, for which I am simultaneously grateful yet trepidatious. Truth: I have spent my life walking between two worlds, one in which everything was as calm and bright as outward appearances would show, where I sought adventure, and often found it. I have had several successful careers and, at 72, I am still “young” – at least at heart. I have a wonderful, colorful family, and friends around the world with whom I still communicate
Despite my successes and triumphs, I have spent much of my life angry, ashamed, disconnected, and alone in the deepest sense of the word. When my wife passed away from breast cancer, my grief offered no solace, compassion, or gentle hand of support to hold a person up; so, writing became my best friend.
Through symbolism, I exposed shards of my shattered childhood and my deepest pain. Being part of the Gatehouse experience in the beginning was an overwhelming period. The demons of my youth were woven into the very fabric of who I became as an adult. In retrospect my inner child was at the helm of my ship, and me along for the tumultuous ride of my life. Finding the Gatehouse was a blessing. Through supportive individuals, I began to journal again, expressing my inner turmoil. The process forced me to face my demons and gain the courage to put them where they belonged – in the burn barrel.
The pain of my childhood betrayal will never go away; but I can talk about it without breaking down. The process is ongoing; my friends call me “the turtle” because my actions are slow and deliberate. All of the above does not exhibit how far I have come - the next chapters are still unwritten, because something wonderful is always about to happen.
The poem I submitted for the Global Poetry Initiative stirred up emotional dust for me, at the same time releasing it. My wish is that sharing my experience of healing, however slow the process is, will be words that comfort others, chosen by those looking for a guidepost for hope. My poem reflects my journey, and the journey continues. And I am blessed…
I hear you. I see you.
Something happened to you that never should have happened.
It wasn’t your fault.
Come share your voice.
Be heard.
Be believed.
Find trust and safety again.
I’m right here.
I hear you.
I believe you.
Author Statement
These poems started to come to me with ease in January 2019, about 9 months after I had a concussion. It was after 9 months of really slowing down and resting (because the concussion gave me no other choice!) that these poems started to arise.
The first one I ever wrote arose when I realized how lost and disconnected I’d been for so many years. But now there was a turning point where I was starting to feel something different! I was beginning to experience joy, gratitude and health again. My first poem ("Light and Dark") arose when I saw this difference.
Over time, these poems would come as “downloads” after I’d allow myself to feel emotions and hurts of past traumas. Sometimes they’d come during meditation or while being in nature. Other times they’d come after therapy appointments or after being in contact with a toxic relative. They came sporadically, sometimes months apart.
The poems have been an outlet for me to allow my voice, feelings and thoughts to come through; and with no expectation or pressure on myself of whether I’d share them or not. They’ve been a part of my healing journey and process. I hope they help others too now in some way!
Still, I find them in their prisons, but they love me...
I ask them to show me how they got there.
Their distress and nightmares become mine...
Some places we glimpse and run, they are too dangerous...
We escape to favourite places and bask in the warmth of safety and peace.
Mostly, we discover the need to assuage their wounded hearts
We rebuild their memories and fill them with love and tenderness.
They hide things still...they have so much shame...or I cannot see.
Even when we are stuck, we still bond...we swim in healing waters.
We fight, we rage, we tantrum, take vengeance...find empowerment.
We replay history and reclaim their losses.
They find safety, love, community, acceptance...
I sigh...reset...one hole filled.
That sword stops stabbing.
An organ is less tainted...some poison is sifted out
Those banal words and predicaments can be a part of my life
A moment relieved of possession...I am eradiated.
I smile...a freedom to exist, to stand straight and tall.
Author Statement
The poem is a reflection on my process of doing inner child meditations to reparent and reimagine safety and reclaim needs that were never provided. This poem is one of seven other poems reflecting on my inner child work and focuses on the phase where I was learning to use meditation to find pain relief from triggers. I learned my back pain is caused by an aroused emotion trapped in my body and that meditation could provide the underlying need that my emotion wanted to experience to find relief. This poem describes the process of finding my inner children in spaces of deprivation, rescuing them, and providing a safe space to meet their needs. The conclusion conveys my experience of releasing tension to find relief from chronic back pain and the joy of experiencing no triggers in a historically triggering moment. I have just completed a book of seven poems with a collection of drawings called “My Left Hand is Talking, My Right Hand is Nurturing,” that chronicles this process of using inner child meditation to heal and find relief of the symptoms of abuse.
I was a child whose life had barely begun
You crept into my room and took me from by bed
I trusted you and you violated me
How could you
You stole my innocence
For many years I was afraid because I was too small
I knew it was wrong
“daddy’s shouldn’t do those things”
I thought my voice would not be heard
So shame kept me silent
One day I found the strength to run
But the flashbacks remained.
I saw you in my mind I could not shake you.
The visions in my head were overwhelming
Courage made me find someone who could help me heal
At first I couldn’t speak without tears getting in the way
The words wanted to come out but were held fast
As if trapped by a barrier.
I saw the words I wanted to say
But my lips refused to open
Shame kept me silent.
Eventually I found the words without barriers or shame.
It was like a dam had broken and the flow of water, was the words
The years have moved on and I’ve found forgiveness for myself
I know I still have some healing to do
But my past no longer has a suffocating hold on me
I rejoice in every new day
Because I chose to live each one knowing that I am here
I am a survivor
Author Statement
When I was told that I could write a poem about my childhood abuse to help others to heal and also myself, I didn’t know if I wanted to relive those memories again in such detail. But then I realized that if my writing these words could help someone else face their own trauma, then I had to try. It was hard writing those moments because I relived them as I wrote, so I thought of myself as a separate entity and was able to write the words without it consuming me.
In my early years
Living in many tears
They unknown passed by
Which made me tremble
As much as the hands that came by
Fearing with much dread,
Is my Life with its every breath.
Sure I am dying alive,
But don't want to end it now.
The sorrow and strange torment on me,
From head and within and unseen.
Pain getting me to the very edge,
My only succour lies in God above,
To feel with tenacity sick voices and aches,
In my soul and head and my life.
I fight and struggle to be at peace,
No one understands and no one sees.
Yet all assume I am rudderless,
Seeing not a chained prisoner but healthy dullard.
The mental ailments and soulful disasters,
Which has got every other sphere of Life destroyed.
Many times I am pushed to say goodbye,
To the constant torments but grace holds me back.
Author Statement
Given I was alone and no one around understood my pain or believed my experiences, writing was a deep exercise to shed the toxic weight weighing down my soul, and expressing my pain so as to keep holding on and as a means of healthy escapism. It is a bit cathartic.