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892 · Oct 2013
Gates of Hell
NitaAnn Oct 2013
I find myself standing before the gates of hell. It is here, in this place of fear and pain, that I must fight my battles and face my enemies. The smell engulfs me…the stench of ignorance and glutting fill the air. The wind blows with the sounds of nothingness and you destroy who I was and I try to hold back who I want to be.

It is before the gates of hell I face you. My blood flows with each blow I allow you to make. My adrenaline pumps with each strike and contact. Vengefulness lingers in my heart. My body is hot while my skin is cold to the touch. With each thought I relive the pain you inflicted on me. I bleed from the wounds you made. My heart aches and my soul cries out.

I stand alone, here at the gates of hell. No one to have my back. No one to put you in your place. I stand alone to fight a battle I ignored for many years. Trying to erase the marks you left on my body. Trying to eliminate the scars you put in my memories. Blocking out the sounds when I said NO and you refused to hear me.

I stand here at the gates of hell; alone, cowering, crying, and searching for someone to hold me, to tell me all will be okay, to keep me safe, and help me up when I fall. Someone who will be there for me when I seek help.

It is at the gates of hell I throw my punches, scream my brains outs, and there is nothing but silence and emptiness. My punches make no impact, my screams have no sound. It is here at the gates of hell I stand.

                                                                     *My own personal hell.
The demons inside my head continue to scream for release. Eventually, they will tear me to pieces...there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do about that. The nightmares are horrendous, the shame unspeakable. My jaw aches, my head hurts, I am constantly screaming and slamming stuff around, cursing myself out...I'm surprised I haven't been carted off to the loony bin.

I'm really not well. The all-consuming parts of me have drown out the logical adult Nita and she is no where to be found. If I could only identify where they reside in my body, I could cut them out. I'm not afraid of the physical pain, physical pain is nothing compared to the pain inside of my head, inside of my mind & body.
888 · Aug 2013
Coping
NitaAnn Aug 2013
YOU MUST ELIMINATE THE FOLLOWING BEHAVIORS:
cutting,
boozing,
denial,
self-blame,
excessive spending....

I am taking away all of your maladaptive coping skills...
if you need them, they will be in either my purse or the refrigerator
neither of which you are allowed to prowl without my permission,
which of course you do not have.....
And what will we be replacing them with?
Oh -I'm glad you asked, Crazybrain!

We are replacing them with the following:
Radical acceptance
Wisemind
Half smile
Oh, you could exercise too,
if you want: fat-***!
Just deal with it!


I personally think it's stupid to take away a person's crutches in life and expect them to deal effectively for more than a couple of days without a mental meltdown!
Because then you get to live in hell until you can learn to short-circuit the brain's automatic responses that you developed  because of a lifetime of f@#kedupness.

DUMB!*   I'm just sayin'   *D~U~M~B!
885 · Apr 2015
Empty Heart
NitaAnn Apr 2015
An empty heart is a dangerous thing

Once my heart was full
Full of life
Full of hope
Full of desires

But then you came
You torn those away
Piece by piece
Until here I stand
Empty

Now without hope
I go through life
With no thoughts of those I hurt
Like you taught me
Use and Discard
I was a good pupil

An empty heart is a dangerous thing
879 · Feb 2014
DOUBT…
NitaAnn Feb 2014
Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I'm unable to find the words to express how I'm feeling.
I doubt myself and my ability to do any of this 'work' - the real work, "THIS". And I grow angry because it feels so unfair that they **** us and we spend the rest of our lives trying to deal with it.

I find myself reading and empathizing with others, others 'like' me…
to some extent we share a 'likeness' - albeit a likeness that we would prefer NOT to share -
and yet it is there, and I can feel it.
I read, and I tell others:

"hang on"
"don't give up"
"it will get better"
"you can do this"
"you're so strong and so courageous"


And I mean every word of what I say to everyone. And yet, I can't say it to myself. And what I feel right now....is DOUBT. Because the truth is that sometimes it doesn't get better. And the reality is that even when you hang on by your pinky fingernails, you can still fall. And often times I feel like I CAN'T do this. So many nights I'm scared and I don't understand, and I don't even know where this is going. I don't know which one of me is in charge, and frankly,
I don't know which one of me is the "real" Nita.

I haven't written much this past week...I've felt tired and overwhelmed
and I haven't been able to put the chaos in my head into words on the computer screen.


The truth is...
Sometimes I'm not strong or courageous.
Sometimes I can't do this.
Sometimes I want to run and hide.
Sometimes I want to give up.


And I know I'm not the only one...and it isn't fair -
it's not fair that they break us apart and
we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the pieces
and put them back together again.
And some days I doubt I will even be able to find all the pieces of me.

And it feels like it's me against the world....

and the world is winning...

**Is life fair?
Doubt it!
874 · Oct 2017
Knocking on Death's Door
NitaAnn Oct 2017
I stand here knocking
On Death's door
I am asking to come in
Life is too overwhelming
I am ready to move on
Maybe the next life
Will treat me kinder
As this life has been hard
So I stand here knocking
On Death's door.
870 · Mar 2017
Always Alone
NitaAnn Mar 2017
Always alone
Never fitting in
Does not matter what I do
I will always be on the outside
Alone and forgotten
869 · May 2013
Worth the Fight
NitaAnn May 2013
Sometimes I ask myself is this life really worth the fight.
I keep telling myself to keep going to prove that I survived.
I keep thinking that if I make something out of my life
It will prove the abuse did not hurt me.
I have two daughters that I want to teach to be strong independent woman.
I keep telling myself to give up will teach them nothing.
I keep telling myself keep fighting.
I am tired of fighting though.
I am tired of not being able to sleep without nightmares.
I am tired of trying to talk about the things that have happened
And feeling like someone has applied super glue to my lips.
I am tired of the daily battle that goes on in myself.
I have thought about suicide since I was 11 years old
And I continue to think about it.
It would be the easy way out.
It is one of those things that nobody seems to understand.
You are asked aren't you afraid of dying.
Are you not afraid of hell?
Well my personal reply is if there was a hell that means there is a god.
Well where the hell was he when my body was being hurt as a child.
Where was he when I felt like my body was being ripped open
by my father when I was only three years old?
Every religious person says god protects the children.
Was I not a child?
Was I not good enough for him?


So I guess in the end it is not so much about what I believe in.
I really believe it comes down to me deciding the worth of my life.
How much I want to live.
How much I feel like things are going to get better.
If I can stand to live in this creepy crawly flesh that I call my body
Even after it has been used as much as it has.
How much or how little it would effect my daughters.
How hard I want to try and prove to the people that they have hurt me
But they didn't break me after all.
This life is worth the fight.
868 · Dec 2014
Sleepless
NitaAnn Dec 2014
i cannot sleep
i lay here wide awake
haunted by memories

i close my eyes
and i smell him
he is close
i know he's here
i can feel his hands
touching me
his warm breath in my ear
whispering be quiet
saying i am Daddy's Special Girl
i shudder in fear
not knowing how to make it stop
i will be quiet
my tears flow silently

when morning breaks
i am exhausted
teacher asks why i am tired
cannot tell truth
must keep Daddy's secret

morning breaks now
i am still exhausted
still carrying Daddy's sins
859 · Sep 2013
Managing the Symptoms
NitaAnn Sep 2013
I am hurting and scared and it is not good.
I am lost because I am denying myself again...
I am struggling and I am failing
Tonight may be the end of my 2 months of 'Good Little Nita'.
I am overwhelmed with thoughts of self-hate.
I can feel it.
And I've tried to "contain" it and "push it away" and it is not working tonight!


I have pulled out my "HEALTHY WAYS TO COPE" list
and checked everything off...and it's still here.
This burning inside of me ~ the bad place ~
I need to cut it out of me!
Perhaps what's worse...is I know it will help alleviate the pain
  albeit temporarily.
But right now- I'll take 'temporarily'...
it's better than no relief at all.
The quest to fix the hole in my bucket was unsuccessful.
And frankly, I really can't make myself care right now.
I'm finished with staying 'in the present'.
Who would want to stay present in this body?
For God's sake, we have 'no emotional skin'.
Who wants to live like that?

This is not about finding a 'safe place',
or taking allies, or throwing your troubles in a bucket,
it is not about 'courage' or 'wisdom'
this is about 'managing the symptoms', is not?
This is about making functioning less exhausting and difficult.
This is about not speaking, in real life,
about the pain and despair, the fear and the anger.
This is about managing the 'symptoms' and 'masking' the problem.

So tonight I will 'manage' the 'symptoms'
so they do not spill over and have a negative effect on anyone else.
I will 'manage' and I will 'deal with her'
....by myself.

THIS is about being'numb' and 'ignoring' what needs attention.
THIS is about not questioning and popping a pill.
THIS is about suffering in silence
and doing what has to be done to continue to "live" for everyone else
because you do not matter,
and what you want and need do not matter.
They never have.

This is about putting a beautiful expensive picture and placing it over an ugly stain on the wall. The stain will still be there, even when something beautiful and breath-taking is covering it up...and if the picture is never removed the stain will always remain.
It will stay there, ***** & forgotten.

I should not be alone tonight
but I want to be alone.
I want to hurt myself - because I deserve to be hurt.
But then there is that '24 hour rule' – f@#k it!
It's not like there's anyone to call for help anyway!
Clearly that little girl is so ugly, so *****, so revolting -
she even traumatized a valued member of the mental health community.

No one will know that I am suffering.
No one will be allowed to see the scars beneath the clothing
lest they be revolted
They will know only this:

I am Nita. I am strong and I am beautiful and I can do anything.
Smile Pretty Nita
And they, unlike me, will believe it.
855 · Sep 2013
More Than I Can Handle
NitaAnn Sep 2013
Someone recently said to me, “God does not give you more than you can handle.” That’s really been weighing on my mind, it inches to the surface, and I feel a surge of anger, then it’s tucked back into the back of my mind. God does not give you more than you can handle?

I know my grandma believed that with all of her heart. Week after week, she would pray for the salvation of my mother, my father, my brothers, sister, and I. Every single night, she was down on her knees praying for redemption, and thanking God for the gifts he has given to her. And she believed it! I admired her strength and her belief in God, because I learned as a small child that God can give you more than you can handle, and when that happens, and you reach out for help, sometimes there’s no one there. I’m not going to sit here and write out examples and questions…such as, really, then why do children suffer and die from cancer?...because I’m sure there are those out there who can provide justification for that.

Sometimes I would ask my grandma about her unending faith in God. “Grandma, what if God doesn't answer? Is he too busy? “ I’d ask. And grandma would answer, “Nita, you just need to pray harder, God will hear you…just pray harder.” And I would remember her words at night, when I was scared and alone, I would think about her words when my father would touch me, and I would pray harder.
God doesn't give you more than you can handle!

Now, in the present, I know that I am “handling” it, but there’s no other choice, is there? Handle it, or give up? I don’t want to be here, facing all of this, and yet, here I am, “handling” it. Is this what it means? That God doesn't give you more than you can handle? Sure, my family and friends have suffered as a result of the abuse of my past. Is God giving them more than they can handle?
Does God ever give you more than you can handle?
Maybe God expects me to be stronger than I feel.
NitaAnn Jul 2014
You know how you have one of those days at work where time is crawling by and you want nothing more than for the day to be over and it feels excruciating? But then you put your nose to the grindstone and just slug it out. And you do not stop until the end of the day.

That is how I feel today, only I have different work to do. And the work I have to do is like that project you put off because you just do not want to do it. It is that file you put on the bottom of everything and just hope it will resolve itself. But you know it will not. Every day you pick up that file thinking today may be the day you will get started. But you do not. You have questions about some of the material in the file, you are not sure what to do, and you are unable to complete the project because there is nobody around to answer your questions. You have left several messages for her, the woman who was supposed to answer your questions, but she has not called you back. And now you are angry because you need guidance! You need her help you, you cannot do it on your own! But it has been too long now. She is not going to call you back...she is not going to give you the directions you need to complete this project. You know that you are on your own now.

That is how I feel right now. The file before me is filled with my life, my past, and my painful memories. It contains my feelings of shame, sadness, anger…hopelessness and worthlessness. The project is to take each page and fit it together like a puzzle…and once the puzzle is together, the project will be complete and I will be whole.

                                      But I do not know where to start.
                                                           I am lost.
                                     I feel like a ship without a rudder.
                                       A sailboat without a spinnaker.
                                       I am a tourist without a guide.
                  I am a lost child without her mother... alone and frightened.
                            I am crying…but she can no longer hear me.
853 · May 2013
Walking Dead
NitaAnn May 2013
I am floating around this earth, a ghost, unnoticed, and empty.
Yet I leave footprints in the sand.
I breathe, and I walk, my heart beating but I feel dead
All I had, every part of me was cut off.
Falling to the ground to disintegrate at the feet of the one causing my pain
I was stuck in the body of this dead child unable to break free
But I grew, somehow
I transformed and became something else, someone else
I left her body there. I saw what he was doing to her
So I floated away and she perished with her words stuck in the back of her throat
Words that formed screams and screams that turned into begging
Begging to understand, begging for it to stop
Begging for an answer, but none came
Now I feel non-existent. Just a soul, traveling in search
In search of something, in search of life, in search of hope
Maybe still searching for an answer
I continue my search yet I find it difficult to move in this decomposed body
These hands are dead, these feet are dead, my heart is dead
My everything is dead
I must put that little one to rest, So I can breath
Closing her eyes, and crossing her hands across that dead heart
I release her
Awakening the spark of life back into my veins
It ignites like fire, then flows through me and down to my fingertips
Throwing all numbness, shame, and guilt in that coffin with her
I lower her body into the dark earth and say goodbye
I tell her I'm sorry no one ever saved her
Throwing dirt on her grave I walk away
I walk away knowing its ok to feel
To be here, surviving, even though she didn't
I can be alive for her, because she never got the chance
I can feel life pulling at my ankles begging me to join it and to simply let her rest
So I follow life, to breathe, to walk, to keep my heart beating
Yet more than that.
To feel, to love and be loved, to learn and to know
To remember and yet move forward
To feel not like a ghost but as this beautiful butterfly I have transformed into.
851 · May 2014
IT'S ONLY THE BEGINNING....
NitaAnn May 2014
I have chosen to write about my journey of healing, maybe through this it will bring more healing as I write out my thoughts and my feelings, and also bring insight and healing to those who have or may not have walked a similar journey that I am now just beginning.

Today as I walked out of my appointment, DT gives me a hug and tells me to protect my heart...

The thought that runs through my mind is how do I protect my heart??? If you ask me, that's what I have been doing for the last 30+ years of my life, protecting my heart, building walls so that no one would be able to hurt me again....

You see I grew up in what most people would call, a HIGHLY DYSFUNCTIONAL family. And I had to learn to protect myself at all costs...to survive no matter what happened....and along the way I built walls, and locked a lot of doors in my heart, and I threw away the key....I didn't just lock people out, I locked the little girl inside me in....

I didn't want people to hear or see that broken, wounded, bleeding little girl inside me....

And for many, many years I have hid her behind the title of being the Sweet Young Lady everyone wanted me to be...
                        At home I am the Mommy and doting Wife,
                        At work I am the dedicated Pharmacy Intern,
                        At School I am the overachieving Student....
but underneath those titles I am just a woman who loves the Lord,
but has never allowed Him into the locked rooms in her heart, never allowed Him to heal the broken little girl who still hides in the corner and cries at night.


So this is my journey...of taking off the masks and allowing God to walk me in a journey of healing. Some posts may be encouraging while others may be full of pain and raw truth....but I am taking a step to show the world the truth, the pain, the joy, and the journey of healing that I am only beginning...
847 · Oct 2013
Silent all these years...
NitaAnn Oct 2013
My mouth opens but nothing comes out....
I am not sure why but I am unable to speak now.  

Instead the willful arrogant one shows you her face ~ the one you call 'petulant'.  You do not understand how much pain there is inside of this body, how could you, when the parts who hold the pain are no longer allowed to speak to you.  Instead the ill-tempered one talks; you find her to be 'annoying' and peevish, in fact, it seems as though she feels the need to be on defense all the time.  She is contemptuous in her behavior shielding any feelings of vulnerability from you with her supercilious speech.  

She stands behind the wall that has been rebuilt between you and her and the wall is made of brick, the mortar solid and unforgiving.   If you could see behind the icy blue of her eyes as they tell you confidently that she is doing well…if you could see behind her, you would be able to see that all is not okay. You would be able to see that she is not a petulant child, but rather a frightened girl, teenager, woman. You would be able to see that the arrogance and cockiness of her speech and stance, her willfulness…is a defense tactic.  If you could see behind the brick wall you would see that she feels like she has tumbled backwards and she has lost her voice.  

BEHIND THE WALL:
She is not defensive...she is scared.
She is not petulant...she is guarded.
She is not confident...she is uncertain.


If you could see behind the wall, you could see that she waited years for someone to come into her life and tell her that it was okay to tear down that wall.  Behind the wall she chokes back tears of sadness and shakes in fear.  Behind the wall she hides in dark corner...afraid she has now become one more casualty in this ****** war as she struggles to once again find her voice.
846 · Jan 2014
IMPURE
NitaAnn Jan 2014
IMPURE!
the disgust that runs in me
the scars he left within will never quell
they just get infected and starts to swell
he was never fully punished for his sins
so I am forced to punish myself within
for the impure blood of a molester
that flows through my veins
Impure…

IMPURE!
what he did I will never forgive
something so terrible that i don't want to live
for the blood of a molester poisons my heart
to cut myself and let blood leave my body
leave my soul.....so much disgust
Impure...

IMPURE!
845 · Feb 2015
This Is Wrong
NitaAnn Feb 2015
I have walked this road before
Familiar faces and things I see.

But wait...

Something has changed
Something is wrong.

What changed?
Is it me?

Things are twisted
This is wrong
I shouldn't be here.

Quickly I turn
I need to leave
The path is changing
Nothing looks the same
This is wrong
So very wrong.

I start to run
I feel hands grabbing me
Groping me as I try to push through
Crying, Sobbing

I am not going to make it
I don't know where to go
Nothing is the same
Nobody is friendly
I am lost.
NitaAnn May 2014
The last few months have left me with a lot to ponder. I'm already an analytical person, but I've got so much going on in my head right now that I've written, erased and re-started this entry about 10 times already because I can't seem to organize my thoughts.

I am one really $%)! complicated person. I mean I know no one is simple, but I swear with every passing day I find out things about myself that are contradictory or frustrating. Only I can manage to **** myself off without even trying.

Fear is keeping me from progressing in therapy right now. I'm so afraid that any topic I approach or old wound I open up is going to result in the same reactions I had the last time I tried. Crippling panic attacks, constant fear, cutting, no hope. I allowed myself to think about and confront things I had never even come close before, and I end up a walking mess.

I haven't pushed myself to really talk about or feel anything difficult, because this fear in the back of my mind is slamming that door closed every time I approach it. The logical side of me is screaming "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? DO YOU WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN?!?!", yet I'm also battling with the undeniable fact that the only way I am going to be able to heal from and let go of these hurts I've been carrying around for so long is to talk about, process through and feel them.

I want to feel like I'm not wasting my time (and DT’s). I don't right now. I hate it.

I'm so frustrated with myself. I feel like I've lost faith in my entire existence. Like everything I do is futile. No matter how hard I work or how much I want something, I'm doomed. The world is going to spite me and give me the exact opposite.

I feel defeated.

And yet, to be even more contradictory, another part of me feels as though if I can eventually get to a place where I can let these walls down, that I will recover. It seems possible in every aspect of my life... except one.

Even though I sought out and have been going to therapy with the goal of recovering from my abuse, a big part of me doesn't believe it is possible. That no matter how hard I work or what I do, this will always be what defines me. I will never escape it. I will always be afraid. I will always be that 5 year old.

I mean, look at all I've been through over the past 12 months. I got to a point that I wanted to **** myself. I mean actually wanted to end my life. I had NO HOPE. And even going through all of that, I still feel like nothing has changed. I'm still just as afraid as I was then. Just as defined by my abuse as I was then. Why should I think it'll ever get better? I almost killed myself trying to make it better.

Then DT said something to me that seemed so painfully simple and obvious, yet brought me almost immediate hope.

"Your abuse speaks a different language."

Don't worry, I'm going to clarify (as you are probably thinking the same thing I was: uhhh, what does that mean?). The little things I've been able to improve upon with DT, like learning how to be in the moment, my relationships with my other, coping with stressors in life without cutting, etc speak one language. Certain methods and approaches work very well in confronting those things, all the while challenging me, pushing me and allowing me to see success.

The *"language"
DT used for those things was obviously not the right "language" for my abuse.

Today I feel more hopeful than I have in a very long time. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out what the right language is for my abuse. And maybe, just maybe, I can heal.
NitaAnn Nov 2013
Dear therapist once said, "Once you stop trying to escape yourself, you will have won a big phase of the battle because in reality there is no one you presently have to escape or fear. One, because you are no longer a child, and two, because you have more, much more, personal power and capacities to protect yourself then in the past.”

It was so many years ago when I bought a costume of a confident woman with no history of abuse. I was the only one who knew it was a costume, and when I looked in the mirror, I longed to be that woman, the beautiful, confident woman with nothing to hide, and I never took that costume off. I pushed away the thoughts, the disgust that was of the past, I could do it…it was easy. I just had to stay busy, and not leave time to think about it. But one day that all came to a screeching halt and suddenly my life was so painful, and the pain was so intense…I wanted to be left alone in my pain, I did not want to share the pain I was feeling. I was afraid to explore the darkness that dwelled inside of me, the darkness that I had ignored and pushed away for so many years. I was afraid if the things that lived in my darkness were exposed to light, they would grow out of control, and overcome me, make me weak and afraid, **** me into the darkness until I no longer existed.

But the darkness was not to be ignored, it snuck up on me during the night, it rattled my windows, and wrote ******, bitter graffiti on my walls. There was no escape, I could no longer outrun my past, it had caught up with me, now ran beside me, and I knew it would soon overtake me. I began to have panic attacks, waking in the middle of the night, unable to breathe. I needed a coach, a life coach, and I needed one fast! I needed a coach to teach me to run faster, to escape. So I began to search for a coach and when I found one, but rather than teach to me run faster, he wanted me to slow down, to look…he wanted me to feel. What? Why would I allow myself to feel, it would just hurt, cause me pain. He told me that I could run until I wore myself out but I could not escape my past or my pain. I had to learn to face my past in order to move forward and heal. When I told him I was scared, that I didn't have the strength to face it, he told me that he would 'train me', stay with me, and help me to find the strength within me that he could see. The strength I saw in him was a reflection of the strength I was seeking for myself.

I have been hit time and time again in this process. I have had black eyes, bruised and cut skin, broken bones and a shattered spirit. And when I could not find the strength, he would help me, encourage me and cheer me on. I am moving forward, and I am starting to see my worth.
Sessions like today's with Dear Therapist, make me think that eventually at some point, I will be able to overcome this. I am stronger than I think and even though I cannot change the past, the past does not have to define me. The light at the end of the tunnel is brighter today than it has been in a long time!
832 · Oct 2014
Helpless Hopeless
NitaAnn Oct 2014
Do you hear my cry?
Do you see my tears?

Am I truly invisible?

I am begging, pleading.
Please stop ignoring me.
Please notice me here.

I need you to see me.
I need you to hear me.

I am asking in the only way I know
For your help, your advice, your guidance.
Please recognize what I need.
You may be my last hope,
My last chance.

Your words say that you hear me
Your words say that you see me
You state you see more than I see in me

However, your actions tell a different story.
I am pleading....

HELP

Help me to become the woman you see.
Put me on the path to better.
Show me how to make the change.

HELP

If you turn away now
I may be gone
Silently slip away into forever.

Do you hear my cry?
Do you see my tears?

I need you to see me.
I need you to hear me.
Sometimes it seems like it would be so easy to silently slip into forever with just a few quick razor cuts. How long would it take for you to notice I was gone? Would you care? Would you cry? Would you regret the times you turned away from my cry? I need to know you care before it is too late.
NitaAnn Jul 2013
Right now I'd rather turn around and walk away forever…make that RUN. It's much easier than facing the truth. I will do virtually anything to keep from feeling the searing pain that has manifested itself in my soul in both my past and present moment...and it has made me so very tired. And frankly I don’t know how to survive right now. I have nothing left...I lack the energy to even make it through the days. So I have been taking advantage of the copious amount of anti-anxiety drugs that Dr so graciously prescribed for me during times like these (aka: “crazy nita” times).

Every hand is a winner and every hand’s a loser…and I have come to the decision that the winning hand for me is to stay asleep as much as possible. I haven’t been feeling well physically –And the fact is that I have been plagued by nightmares when awake and asleep. Sunday morning I opened my eyes for the first time at 11:30am and not even a strong cup of coffee could keep me awake and functioning, so I saw the light for only a short time. Why fight it… isn’t that what the therapist would say? “Nita, listen to your body and if you need to sleep 22 hours out of the day, then  be okay  with that."  So I have been listening to this sluggish, disgusting, hurting body telling me to just take the drugs and go to sleep. And take enough of them to ensure we all stay asleep.  

The drugs do not prevent the nightmares but somehow make them more bearable, if that makes any sense at all. I still feel fear, still wake up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, but right now it is still more tolerable than being awake.

I don’t think I have been this numb to the reality of life in a long time. I have been present and in my body and aware of my surroundings for about 10 minutes the entire weekend. I'm okay with that because in this body is the last place I want to be right now. I cannot seem to rid my brain of the infinite dark cloudiness in my head long enough to even muster any type of  cognitive ability.
I am tireddrainedunwell.

I wish I could talk about what has happened but I cannot.  So please forgive me if I check out for a while...I did not plan this…but it is what it is and I cannot change it right this minute.  I am discouraged, angry, frustrated, fearful, confused...and I cannot face any of that right now.  

And so I have a bedside table with the necessities to make it through the rest of this period: bottles of lorazapam, xanax and a bottle of water to wash them down with...and a bottle of wine and some *****...if need be.  I just want to be totally and completely 100% numb for now.  
What? Nita, I thought you were past that? Yeah, me too…but I was wrong.

Now the best I can hope for is to turn toward the window and hope that somewhere in the darkness, I, like the gambler, will break even… because I'm currently out of aces...
829 · Aug 2013
Intersect
NitaAnn Aug 2013
I see him coming
And there is no place for me to go.  
The one way out is the way that he will walk in.  

I can smell him twenty feet away.  

Through glass.  

Through a door.

The room begins to spin and collapse around me.  
I tell myself that it's not him;
That would be impossible.  
My mind.  
My nose.  
My body.  
They all betray me.

He walks through my door.  
I offer a simple handshake.  
I hope that a brief touch will flood my shattered mind with the calm of reality.  

That's not him.  
He means no harm.  
And then my reassurance turns into frenzied questions.

A handshake turns into a hug.  
Too much contact as his cologne seeps into my every sense.  
Glass shatters as my mind spins in sync with the room.

A painful haze fills the room.  
My vision narrows into a tiny point.  
A push.  
And then a shove.  
Obscenities spewed propel me backwards
As a corner of the room folds me in as protection.

My back slides down the wall
As I crouch to hide my face.  
The two walls meet and wrap their arms around me.  
I rock as I listen for the silence.  
The calm.

But instead as the haze lifts
I hear the racking sobs of a wounded someone.  

Tears like razors spill into my protective hands.  
They cut my hands as each one drops.
I shake and pound my head into the walls.  

Those sobs are mine
And I can hardly breathe.  
I squeeze my eyes so tight to stop the tears.  
They subside but I do not open them afraid that the monster is still there.

A voice calls my name.  

Another warns not to touch me.

One eye opens.  
And then the other.  
I shiver as I see the worried faces.

No shards of glass.  
No wounded hands.  
His smell still lingers
But he is gone.  
The shrinking room has expanded
To an endless space of shame.  

Another hand offers me a way out of my corner.
I brush away my tears but my face burns hot with shame.  

It has finally happened.  
My past has found a way to intersect with my life again
A reflection on how I felt after not seeing my birth father for over 10 years and then having him walk back into my life like nothing had happened on his part.
825 · Feb 2014
Even if only for one minute
NitaAnn Feb 2014
I’m sitting here and the last thing I want to do is write. Oh, that’s not entirely true. I have wanted to write…but I haven’t been able to do it. I have been aching to talk but unable to find the words. I have been silent. I know that. It was on purpose. My mind has been unable to take the myriad of fragmented thoughts and memories and put them down on paper in a way they will be able to be read and understood. My thoughts don’t form fluid complete sentences right now. They have no eloquence or beauty…perhaps they also lack the passion that was once at my fingertips – words begging to be written, screaming to be spoken out loud, even if only a whisper.

I am sitting here with my heart in my throat and I need to be here. I want to be here. I crave being a part of this community but at the same time I fear the judgment. I have felt so deeply absorbed in my own pain and yet wanting so desperately to express my thoughts and feelings here. Voices inside of me begging to be heard, to connect with someone who might possibly understand how it is I feel. I have poured my energy and channeled my anger into writing. The hurt, the sadness, the rage, the hurt, the shame, and my Lord, the unbearable pain…all made me write…and write…and write. I pour my heart, my soul, my very self out here and the sense of belonging and community here make me better. Even if only for a minute…

Sometimes it is just too heavy and I am having a hard time coping. With the crazyiness…with life. I move from wanting to change to giving up on myself constantly. I am not yet ready to explain what giving up feels like, but I give up. And I want you to give up on me too. I want you to be angry at me for giving up.

And yet I want you to care and I want your help. There is so very much to fix inside of my crazy-brain.
I am not sure who or where I am. It appears as though my gravitational pull toward messing up is not something I am able to resist. The child’s safety net is gone and no one else can cope with that. I need an escape route because the urge to self-destruct is intensely powerful and everything is pointless and I am worthless and this is just way too hard.
824 · Aug 2014
I need a break
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I need a break.
  A respite from my feelings.

I know that must sound strange
assuming that most like to feel;
it is how they know that they are alive.

  Me,
my feelings taunt me
and remind me that I'm not dead.

  Flashback after flashback invade
my frazzled mind and body
until my pounding heart is breaking
in the wake of no relief.

I need a break.
817 · Aug 2014
Break. Brake.
NitaAnn Aug 2014
Break. Brake. Stop. I need a break; need to apply the emergency brake. I need to stop. I would not say that I am a person easily overwhelmed because I can truly say that I juggle many items/issues/people/jobs everyday. But sometimes I do get overwhelmed and it is ugly when that happens. It is something of a breakdown; or brakedown. Either way, life comes to a screeching halt.

I always resurface but I cannot really say that I am refreshed. I ran hard in the other direction but here I am, in the same place, still being forced to face all the voices that tell me that I am not good enough, undeserving, ill-fitting...

I struggle with wanting to fix what is broken and cleaning up messes that I have no business even touching. In this process, I lose myself. I do not take care of myself and then, before I know it, the brake is being pulled and I am caught in some sort of mental purgatory. It is a tough place to be but it does motivate me to press forward because I sure as hell know that stopped is not where I want to be.

So, I am back. I cannot say that I am new and improved but I am more determined to heal and become a version of myself that I can be proud of.
815 · Sep 2014
a bad day
NitaAnn Sep 2014
a bad day doesn't mean i am not healing
it doesn't mean i did anything wrong

it doesn't mean everyday i am not dealing
growing to become someone strong

a bad day means something else entirely,
it means i am still here
breathing, fighting, and growing.
So lets get somethings clear

i am a ******* lion, a warrior.

and now i am free, i am important, i am love, i have a place
i am not the scars that exist nor the tears that stream down my face

daddy thought he won.
trying to beat the will out until i had no words left to say
but i fought through it all and i rose above
i grew my wings and i flew away
and i am learning the true definition of love

a bad day reminds me of just how far i've come
it is not a setback nor does it undo all the work that i have done

a bad day is just that, a bad day
so keep going girl, tomorrow will be better anyway
814 · Jan 2014
My Choice
NitaAnn Jan 2014
Today I realized that “healing” from this was my choice.
It is not his choice, my husband’s choice, my friend’s choice or even DT’s choice.
IT IS MY CHOICE.
They cannot stop me from killing myself,
From hating myself, from cutting myself or drinking til I black out.
IT IS MY CHOICE.
I have to decide if I want to live in this pain forever,
Remain imprisoned by my past
Wallow in self-pity and destructive behavior
OR
If I am going to help myself
And begin to define a new way of living.

I can look in the mirror
And tell myself that I am shattered
I am in pieces and it is hopeless
OR
I can tell myself that despite my “trauma”
And my struggles afterward,
The power to move forward is within me.
I have now taken off the costume of the “woman without a history of abuse.”
I recognize, admit, and accept that I am that woman
And that is my history.
And when I look in the mirror, I see that confident woman,
The woman with a long history of child abuse and trauma.
The woman with the lack of feelings, too many feeling, overwhelming feelings
I see her scars and I accept her.
I hear her voice, I feel her pain.
I see her confidence and beauty.
She is REAL not a costume.
She is me.
Spend alot of time over that last 48 hours doing some self-reflection on where to go from here. It seems I have been stuck in a rut of being "okay" followed by an "I am far from okay" period. I know this won't be the end but hopefully by accepting the past I can be in control of the future.
IT IS MY CHOICE!
809 · May 2013
Last Night
NitaAnn May 2013
Last night he proved that after almost 30 years he still has control over me.

His voice…his touch…they turn me back into the little girl of 5…I have no voice of my own…I have no power to deny him…

I cry…I plead…all to no avail…

I try to find my voice…I want to demand answers…instead I am quiet and submissive….

Today

Today I am ashamed…how does he still have that power? Why do I not speak up? I am not that little girl anymore…

Today I am 5 years old and trapped in an adult body…I want to hid in my closet and not come out…instead life demands that I play my role…

My heart breaks….
803 · Jan 2017
Tracing the Scars
NitaAnn Jan 2017
I have not felt the urge in so long
Tonight the desire is strong
I attempt to resist
But I find myself tracing the white lines
Over and over again

For now, I trace with my fingertip
However, tonight the desire is strong
The desire to see the shine of the blade
To feel the pull as it neatly slices the skin
To see the bright red as it fills in behind the blade
How long can I resist this urge

Now where did that come from
Look a shiny blade in my hand
I have missed you
Let me see you work
Let us make new scars
NitaAnn Jan 2014
Septic these wounds that weep the memories
Rule me with an iron fist
My name- nothing more than the hatred that spills from your lips
I purge to end their disease
Nothing in me was left pure only born to shame
With pounding ****** that muted voice I quickly forgot my own name
Rancid, with odor and stickiness, you left between the gates
I slaughter my own body to let go of your mistakes
Achingly wrought in *****, I spew forth flashbacks laced with pain
Mistakes that were never mine to pay, introduced through morbid molestation
You broke the army of the child, bombed the ****** nation
You left behind a broken doll stained with your indignation
Eyes stitched shut to block out voids of picture perfect hate
You crossed the line of perfect love and flooded her pearly gates
NitaAnn Jan 2014
I knew that things weren't going well this week. And I know that this process is cyclical - but today - I spent today trying to find myself. I have been lost this week, and I don't know where I've gone. I feel things inside of me that are trying to break out and if I give in to them I will once again find myself in a mess...useless to everyone, including myself. By mid-morning, I was overwhelmed, and I tried to brace myself, to focus on something other than the thoughts and feelings that were overwhelming me. I have been holding it together since the New Year, ignoring any negative thoughts, focusing on the positive...I am trying so hard to 'emotionally regulate' - but underneath it all I am so broken and I don't know how to fix it. It takes so much energy to hold it together all week long that by the weekend I am exhausted!

I make progress, or at least it seems like progress to me, for a few weeks but then once again, I have hit the brick wall and I lose all motivation and become frustrated with the entire process. It's not that I expect to click my heels together 3 times and be healed, I know it doesn't work that way...but this constant back and forth, and up and down...I have nothing left to give. I have heard over and over and over again, "the process is slow…it will take years, you are making progress"....but it's impossible to live a normal life like this. I can't seem to put my finger on the trigger, I could feel the familiar pain and the hurt...and then I fall back into my old coping mechanisms, I find solace in them, I wrap myself up in the familiarity of drinking, the anti-anxiety and sleeping meds...I haven't cut myself, but today I want to and it is the first time I have had that feelings since December. It scares me and yet I didn't reach out to anyone. What good would it do? My friends would just say, "Nita, You've come so far, pull it together. You're stronger than this." Well, that is assuming they even answered my calls. And DT? I feel so distant from him that I wouldn't call him if I was standing on the roof trying to decide if I'm going to jump from the front, or the back, of the house.

The past several days have been difficult, even with the distraction of school and work, so I'm going to brace myself, because as hard as they've been, it's nothing compared to what the next few days are going to bring.

I'm not okay tonight. I need something, someone....I can't put into words how much it aches, deep inside my heart... Why does this happen? That everything seems to be okay and then suddenly, from no where, the bottom drops out and once again it starts all over again....the hurt, the pain, the feelings of hopelessness. I don't understand...but I don't feel safe tonight. I haven't felt safe all week. I feel like a frightened little girl.

But I can do this, I will be okay... there isn't another choice, is there?
794 · Oct 2017
Bridging the Gap
NitaAnn Oct 2017
I know you don't understand
BUT
I have been trying to bridge the gap.

You do not know me
And I don't really know you
I don't trust you.
To have a true relationship
We are going to have
Get to know each other
On common ground.

I need a minute
I need you to understand
That this relationship that you are ready for
Is just too much to ask of me
UNREASONABLE
BAD THINGS did happen
HORRIBLE THINGS I cannot just forget.

My impulse is not to lean on you
NOT YET
You are pushing me away
By pushing yourself on me
I need you to let me come to you
As I am ready
STOP
Forcing yourself on me
STOP
Putting me in a position
Where I have to say no.

There is a huge gap
Between how you see me
And how I see me
This will take time, patience
And tremendous effort
To bridge that gap.

I know you don't understand
BUT
I am trying to bridge the gap.
I am so frustrated.
790 · Apr 2015
And Yet
NitaAnn Apr 2015
Here I am again
Facing the same
Disappointments
Hurts, regrets.

And yet I thought this time would be different.

Stupid girl
Will you never learn?
You are unworthy.

And yet again my heart yearns
Pleading maybe this time.
788 · Feb 2015
What Ifs
NitaAnn Feb 2015
My life is full of questions
I don't have the answers
I don't know that I want to know.

What if he leaves?
What if we don't fix things?
What if I have to start over alone?
What if he doesn't stop?
What if I cannot make it?
What if this is the end?


Whose fault is this?
Mine?
His?
How do I fix it?
Can I fix it?
Should I fix it?


These are only a few of the questions
Racing through my head
I don't have the answers
And I don't know if I want them.
784 · Nov 2014
so very tired
NitaAnn Nov 2014
i don't feel like myself a lot lately
waking up confused, that's if I even sleep at all
having to remember where i am at and whats going on around me.
i seem to still function through the day ok
but i feel so dissociated from everything at the same time.
i don't know how to make sense of it all either.

i hate the fact i can't seem to explain whats going on inside me.
so many different things all at once
and i feel like i cant stop any of it.
yet still having to put on the smile
the everything is ok face
for the sake of others not asking questions
or telling me to snap out of it....

i feel like no words can describe what goes on inside me
the emptiness...the struggle to make it through the day.
i shouldn't have to fight so hard to just get through a normal day
(then again i don't believe "normal" exists)


i'm just tired...so very tired...
779 · Jan 2015
Playing the Game
NitaAnn Jan 2015
I have been playing the game of life
Been dealt a rough hand
Have learned to smile
Fake my way through situations
Learned to pretend I knew
Putting forth just enough
Some would say
You have made it far
Keep going
You can do it

However the end is near
I cannot keep up
The game has overcome me
Pretending won't work
I need real skills
Afraid it is too late

Game Over
777 · Feb 2015
Depleted
NitaAnn Feb 2015
I
am  lost
struggling
emotionally
Life is more than
I can currently handle
Nobody understands
the inner workings
of my mind
hurting
tired
me

I am such a walking mess, do not know what to think, where to turn who can I trust, who should I trust, who is real, am I even real, how to make this all stop spinning and just make sense. You say you understand and I believe that you really do want to understand but  you do no get how my mind processes thoughts, emotions, frustrations..

I have struggled for too long, I do not know another way, I try to learn, to follow your examples, to try it your way but  my mind cannot get it.

I have tried and now I am body, mind, and soul depleted.
776 · Nov 2013
Those left behind
NitaAnn Nov 2013
I don’t want to focus on the feelings of those left behind…not now, not tonight.
I think that life leaves your lungs first and your eyes last...
How does that old saying go:
                                                        'The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul'
Maybe that’s why life leaves last through your eyes. The soul leaves your body and then there is no life left in your eyes. And after death, once the soul leaves the body, your eyes look glassy and vacant. I find myself wondering; in that moment, right before death, when you KNOW you’re going to die, and there’s no hope of turning back the clock, is there a feeling of peace and acceptance?

I sometimes think my eyes have been vacant and lifeless for years. And even though my heart still beats in my chest, that through the years of abuse, he did **** me – but, now disconnected from my brain, my body just hasn’t realized it yet. And when it finally does…my broken heart will stop beating.

What are you thinking right now, Nita?

I’m thinking I don’t want to die but I don’t want to live.

I’m thinking I should call DT and see if he has openings this week. But I can’t pick up the phone right now. Besides, it’s after 10, so the DT window is now “closed”. So it would only feel like “rejection” if I did call.

I’m not planning to do anything drastic tonight…well that might depend on your definition of drastic.  It’s scary inside my head right now. I don’t know how else to say it. Unusual… it isn’t often that I find myself unable to translate the words inside of my head and put them on paper, even if I’m unable to speak them aloud. I don’t find that to be the case tonight.

Or maybe some things are better left unwritten.
having major sui thoughts tonight.  as i see it- it will pass, or i will follow thru with them- either way is fine with me right now.
770 · Oct 2017
Forgotten
NitaAnn Oct 2017
I feel forgotten
Nobody seems to care
Or be there when I need them

Only one to remember
Is the one who hurt me
He never leaves

Forgotten
Alone

It hurts
To be forgotten
768 · Aug 2013
Please, sit with me tonight
NitaAnn Aug 2013
Tonight, when I found myself in the bad place again,
I wrapped up in my blanket, grabbed the healing rock and my headphones
and went outside to the porch, and rocked…
feeling the cool air on my face,
listening to Macklemore’s song, “Starting Over”...
crying (but not sobbing),
trying to just breathe.
But then I started thinking about how the bad place leaves,
and then there is a moment, just a moment, of relief,
and then the bad place comes back…
and I started to think,
“Is this all there is? Is it ever going to get better?”
And that’s when the voice inside of me told me that she couldn’t do it any longer…
couldn’t hurt any more, it was too much,
and she was way too tired to fight the darkness anymore.

She took over my mind, I couldn’t fight her, and like a caterpillar eating a leaf, she began to eat away at the coherent part of my brain…she is now in control, she controls us, her decisions rule, I cannot fight her.

She went inside and locked herself in the bathroom.
The fighting began again…
the little girl was shaking, and rocking and crying,
afraid in the dark, afraid of what was going to happen
but unable to stop it.
She sobbed and begged for the strong one to help her,
to hold her, to come back.
But then another voice, the one who has had more than enough of this pain,
the one who sees no way out grabbed the razor blade and held it tightly.
And it was so loud, the arguing, the crying, the pleading, the begging…
the little girl, so scared,
sitting on the cold tile, curled into a ball, rocking and crying…
the hopeless one, holding the razor blade, wanting to cut.
And me, watching this girl from above…
as she struggled…
holding the blade to her wrist as the little girl fought to live,
shaking in her fear, crying out for the strong one to come to her,
to hold her, to comfort her.

Eventually, the struggle ended without bloodshed…
and I found myself sitting on the cold bathroom tile,
with a razor blade in my left hand,
poised at the artery on my right wrist,
shaking, and crying, and rocking myself...
they must have fought until they wore themselves out...
and physically and mentally exhausted,
I picked myself up, put the razor blade away,
wiped my face, and crawled into bed.

I’m doing everything I can right now. And I need to know when it will get better? I hurt every day. And tonight, I curl up in my bed, wrapped in a blanket…feeling the darkness fall upon me. It will get better soon, right? Because it’s not that late here and I feel it…and it hurts…

Please, sit with me tonight?
Because I am small and frightened….
Please? Sit with me and hold me…
767 · Feb 2014
Humpty Dumpty = Me
NitaAnn Feb 2014
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses
And all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.

************

Hopeless Little NitaAnn sat on the wall,
Hopeless Little NitaAnn had a great fall.
All the meds
And all of the docs
Tried to help NitaAnn but they could not.


I HAVE BROKEN INTO EVEN MORE PIECES!
764 · May 2013
Crimson Love
NitaAnn May 2013
The contrast of shiny steel and dark crimson, the contrast of man and metal. Tonight the blade will once again free the blood that is restrained by my skin. Sitting on the floor, with my legs pulled close, I cannot wait to feel the rush of the calm. It is rushing through my mind right now, blocking out all other thoughts. The exquisite yet simple pain of the cold steel parting my skin. Watching the layers of my skin part under the pressure, feeling my pulse push the blood up through the cut. Then gravity pulling it down along my skin until it finally hits the floor. The calmness slows down time, giving me a chance to watch the blood drops form, then fall to the cold,hard floor below. The tip of a droplet hits the tile, the force of the impact creating a smaller ring of droplets that strain against the gravity, soon to be overcome, and pulled downward. The next drop contributing to the rippling pool of crimson love on the floor. I cannot pull my eyes away from the pool of blood on the floor. The drops now starting to fall faster, fast enough that I cannot see the individual drops, that I cannot distinguish them from the previous ones. Once the individuality of the drops cannot be seen, I cut no more. For now the angry creature inside me is spent, he has no more tales to tell. The drops start to come slower now, seemingly holding on to my body before they drop. As if, they know they are falling without reason now. Finally the flow stops, my pulse is slow, my breathing relaxed.
761 · Jun 2015
Lessons Learned From Father
NitaAnn Jun 2015
Let's reflect today
This "Father's Day"
What have I learned from him:

I learned that I am worthless
Only good for his pleasure.

I learned that people you love
Will hurt and use you.

I learned that women
Are *** toys to be abused.

I learned to keep my mouth shut and not cry
If was only worse if you cried.

I learned how to lie there and pretend
So he could get his pleasure.

I learned that I am broken
Broken by his fists and words.

I learned that I will never be good enough
For his love and respect.

I learned that I am to be seen and not heard
Unless you want to be beaten senseless.

I learned that nobody should be trusted
Everybody lies and uses.


These are the lessons I have learned from "Daddy"
Lessons I don't wish for any little girl to have to learn.

Happy Father's Day to the worst father alive.
May you rot in hell someday!
761 · Jan 2016
The End
NitaAnn Jan 2016
She looked in the mirror
Looking back at her
Was a monster
A monster that was made
A monster that needed to be defeated.

Who would win this battle?

She is lying there
Smoking gun in her hands
Unseeing eyes stare up at the ceiling
A trail of blood and brains

The monster grins...He won this round.

She looks at the bottles
Bottle of pills and a bottle of Jack
Just take them...wash them down
The monster whispers.

She complies
Drifting off into a never-ending sleep.

The monster smiles...He won again.

She studies her reflection
In the blade in her hand
Just a few quick slits
And it will all be over.
Trails of sticky, warm blood
Run down her hands
She watches as her life
Pumps out with the last beats
Of her heart.

The monster laughs...he always wins.

*In the end, it does not matter how it came
What matters is He won.
760 · Sep 2013
Do You Know?
NitaAnn Sep 2013
You don't know the real me. I don't know the real me. I only know the parts.

Do you know the part of me who has no feelings, who feels no pain, that part of me who does not love? Do you know that part of me who survives despite the struggle not too? She punishes me, that woman. She will take everything I have and make it disappear. She will take it because she knows I can’t be trusted not to cave in emotionally. She is empty and she wants me to be empty. She feels nothing, less, than nothing, and she wishes to disappear. She will hurt me but she feels no pain. She wants to hurt, to be hurt, because she deserves the pain – she deserves to be hurt. She takes care of no one and expects no one to care for her.

Do you know the part of me who is explosive & raucous? The one who speaks before she thinks? Have you met the angry girl who spews venom on the rest of us…unconsciously yet fortuitous like a loud crash? Her words are frenzied; they engulf and hinder, they get in the way. And yet she is full of them…poisonous words that she is unable to contain. Her lashing anger is knee-**** and reckless, her words cut like knives.

Do you know the part of me who has emotions so overwhelming that her very presence chokes the life out of me? The part of me who vomits to get out the feelings of dirt and shame…she pukes until she is empty and even when there is nothing left, she cannot breathe. She used to be the strong one, but now she is weak. She is easily overwhelmed and she cuts herself to feel her emotional pain in a physical way, a way that makes more sense to her.

Have you met the whiny little brat? The 5 year old brat who weighs me down, overwhelms me with her needy dependence…Her feelings consume me, envelop me, and I can no longer hear myself because she  GETS IN THE WAY!  None of the others like her. She just needs so much! She can’t even take care of herself. She wears her weakness, her sadness…like a coat of arms. She is pathetic! She is the reason we are where we are – because  SHE  was the weak one, the one who couldn’t resist him. This is all her fault!

I have been betrayed, abused, and broken. I feel there is nothing inside of me holding me up…soon I will crumble like cinders…***** worthless ash. Leave me alone because alone is where I am safe. Alone is where I want to be. Alone is where I can take care of myself. But the rest of you, the freaks inside of me?

GO AWAY!  All of you! Go away! You all consume me and I can no longer feel me. I feel like there’s a cord tied around my neck and each of you want to pull the noose a little tighter, drag me down. You want me to weaken, so you can control me. You are all like an Achilles Heel – you all drag me down until I can no longer breathe.

Please go away. Please leave me alone.
What we feel: abandoned, exhausted, listless, frightened, depressed, disillusioned, hopeless, vulnerable, disheartened…
NitaAnn Nov 2013
Late nights seep into me like the silence that screams from the sky.
Drenched in questions, I wish to be dried in the answers,
But there’s never enough shelter from the rain.
The deader the heart, the louder the beating.
The ringing in my ears, the sounds of what it was to be alive,
Resonates through the chaos in my wake.

Wings spread, black feathers reaching one hundred feet high,
The ground echoes my name and feeds upon its nightmares.
I see the rage in the grey face of my past.
The demon looks at me with hollowed black eyes.
His focus is on me, the razors mounted, the venom poised.

The start of the end is here.
The wall that surrounds me is now a broken dam.
The blood and blackness stick to me like molten glass.
The screams from my truth is heard worlds away, the pain now past words.

The fire raining from the demon’s mouth scalds away my skin,
Bleaches my bones and buries my soul.
There’s nothing left.

The demon now sits aloft over his dynasty.
Alone and smiling.
Victory is his – he has won.
I am no more
758 · Oct 2017
so this happened...
NitaAnn Oct 2017
so this happened...
it has happened before
then i can stop
but it always comes back
back to the blade
the shiny blade
it calls my name
begs to feel my skin
as it slices
red bubbles up
and runs down my arm
funny i don't feel the pain
so it cuts again
and again
making thin red lines
so this happened....
754 · Jun 2014
Burdens
NitaAnn Jun 2014
I don't know why I do this, well I don't know why I do a lot of things but that's not the point. I don't know why I look at this as something I'll "get over" or something that will go away eventually like a cold or the flu. I find myself wondering when I can go on with life, not have to deal with _ or think about _ or experience this or that. I'm waiting for some magical day when I wake up and it's all over, it's all gone and is only a piece of my history. How silly of me to hope and dream that I can live a normal life free of worries, haunting dreams, shaking, and doubts. How foolish of me to forget that this doesn't go away. I have to live with this forever.
*"The familiar sting wells in my eyes and my heart sinks deep in my chest. Darkness takes over and I imagine my good-byes. Nothing can stop it; tonight there will be no rest. Images flash, too gruesome to share...such a heavy burden to bear."
754 · May 2015
Fitting In
NitaAnn May 2015
Each day is a struggle.
Does not matter what the situation.
I never seem to fit in.
I try so hard.
I observe what the others do.

I hear his voice,
You're bad.
You're broken.


I think he was telling the truth.
I will never understand how to be normal.
How to not stand out like a sore thumb.
I am broken, bad to the core.

I want to be normal.
I hate not feeling a part.
I hear their whispers,
Feel their stares when I enter.

I hang on the outside.
Wanting so bad to be included.
Nobody wants the bad girl.
She has been broken.

**Poor broken NitaAnn
NitaAnn Aug 2014
Please help me…please, before it is too late.
Please help me.
Hurry!

The footsteps, they are loud, they hurt my ears.

Please, someone, help me, please…the screams are all I hear.
Please save me.

My body, it hurts.
I have bruises and I am bleeding.
Anyone…please.

Why does daddy do this to me?
Why does he hurt me?
Please make him stop.
Please.

The floors are red.
The pain does not stop. He will not stop.
Why do you not hear me?
It is hard for me to breathe.

I cannot stay here.
I cannot be alive.
I cannot stay here anymore.

You did not save me.

No one would help me.

Now it is too late. I do not want to hurt anymore.
NitaAnn Aug 2013
i can't do it anymore
stop hurting me
stop touching me
please i can't do it anymore
he won't stop hurting me
no one hears me
no one helps me
i can't do it anymore
it hurts to much
i'm so tired
no one listens
we tell them
they don't hear us
he will **** us
we dont want to die
but no one will help
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