This is for You All
by n. c
This is for my first councillor
Who told me to "cheer up"
And phoned home when I admitted that my dad sometimes hit me
And told my parents I was just attention seeking
This is for my father
Who taught me to show feelings through violence
And squared up to his freighted daughter laughing
And hit her, and then told her it was "for her own good"
This is for my year 7 bullies
Who nicknamed me bulldog because I had an underbite
And taught me to look in the mirror and hate
And were told that words would never hurt anyone
This is for my doctor
Who poisoned my life with medication
And didn't even tell me what was wrong
And stopped me from feeling scared, down or anxious.
Or anything at all.
This is for my brain
Who used comforting words like "it'll help"
And I believed it so I did
And now I watch my feelings escape from the cuts on my wrist
This is for myself
Who was never thin enough, tanned enough or pretty enough
And took all the pills that were meant to help
And waited to be allowed to leave this prison and fall into the grim reaper's cold embrace.
And actually feel how cold it was.
And finally be able to feel again.
Thanks for submitting this very powerful piece of writing and sharing such a deep part of yourself. Your words are so powerful in describing the struggle that millions of Americans face everyday.
I sincerely hope that you are able to feel again ... the good, bad and the ugly. It is the courage to feel fully that allows us to embrace life.
I hope that you are now surrounding yourself with loving, supportive people that have your best interest at heart. People that want to see you life a full, happy and joyful life.
In light and love,