This poem is in third person because my left brain cannot yet comprehend or accept what my body knows is true. My right brain does and uses artistic means to tell my story. I learned this about myself in a book entitled, “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D.
The left brain declares there is nothing there, as though it forgot it shut itself off. But her body kept all of those secrets in her muscles, hands, gut, adrenal glands. There are certain smells, sights, or sounds, that tell what the body knows. She reacts as though danger's imminent; adrenaline's sent through the bloodstream and her reptilian brain responds to a threat that has long since went. As she comes back down, guilt, shame gather 'round. Shove those feelings back with whatever works: drugs, booze, sex, or food. Keep her patched and glued 'til the day arrives she no longer hides. She'll hand back their shame and finally claim her life, her story, and set herself free.
6 thoughts on “The Survivor”
Here’s to freedom! And the journey towards it.
Indeed! Thank you!
The poem puts it very well
Thanks. I wish I could verbalize how strong is the desire to deny all this.
Hoping that day arrives soon. ❤️
Hey, I publicly admitted it here, so it’s going to be hard for my left brain to walk it back now.