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Tag: trauma

Stupid Milk

curdle in within myself like some homespun kiss of death spoiled milk                          shriveled biochemical bitch shadows on skin become tombs why am I still here when there are poisons...

Lessons on Assault    

When they told me, I politely dismissed myself from my classroom and knelt over the toilet. They said she got mixed up with the wrong crowd— wrong boy. I tried not...

Tracing

“Are you ready to talk about it?” my therapist asks me for what seems to be the hundredth session in a row. “No.” “Are you ready...

Ghost Weeds (Reclamation)

The screen door swung shut with a muffled wooden bang, and darkness opened up behind me. The well-lit inside world disappeared as I turned...

people

People hold you while are you pretending to sleep and look away when you are walking past midnight with socked feet on the unforgiving...

The haircut: 1972

Was he calculating a plan while clipping my hair? He lingered over every move, swirled strands  with the tip of his hand. Softly he said: I’m...

Sometimes I am just like him

When I eat a pomegranate, I cut the red ball in half. I don’t feel sorry about puncturing it right to the core. I don’t feel...

After sucker punch

Some of you will never know what it’s like to crawl on your hands and knees to the nearest pleasant memory. Holding in your tears, any vulnerability is...

Like that guy    

I hired Arnie to shovel: hurt pride, weathered face too old for his babyface. He said he can’t never get a break, he’s always bumping bottom. But...

When Mom stood by

Detecting abusers is a complex problem. Who is the real villain in the story? As a survivor of childhood sexual, physical, and emotional abuse,...

Recommended Reading

The acknowledgement

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I’m trying to be gentle with myself, but what if I never believe my body when it tells me what happened?

Have the time of your life!*

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*Common side effects may include but are not limited to: harassment, stalking, getting drugged, passing out in...

To the fathers who do not abuse their daughters

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On my street I am witness to the young men who carry the pink-flowered backpacks of little girls, who...