Tag Archives: abuse

Fair Trade

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

 

As children we are told tales of monsters

We learn to fear the unknown,

that otherness is bad

and blood is thicker than water

We’re taught that family is the most important thing

and that there is safety in numbers

But any child who has flailed helplessly to escape a brother’s grasp

or purchased sleep with rivers of tears

after enduring a thersitical mother’s ranting

or cried out under the blows from a father’s fists

knows that this is a fantasy

that being alone, that hiding

can sometimes save you

and that sometimes what is known

makes one long for distance

because what’s Out There

isn’t half as scary as home

Sometimes hanging at rope’s end

seems a fair trade for one’s turn at peace

~Melanie Thomason

3/02/2020

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Filed under Poetry

what is love anyway?

image from pixabay

 

What’s love got to do with it? Tina Turner asks…

Good question. 

“I’m not a smart man but I know what love is.” says Forest Gump.

Well I don’t. 

What is love?  It has a different definition for each of us…if it exists at all.

I don’t know what love is.

BUT I know what it isn’t.

Love is not about power.

Love is not control.

Love is not abuse.

Belittling someone is not love.

Controlling someone is not love.

Beating someone is not love.

If my father loved me he wouldn’t have abused me- verbally, emotionally, physically or sexually.

If my brother, cousins, uncle loved me they wouldn’t have touched me in that way.

If my grandparents loved me they would have taken me out of the situation or done something to help.

If my mother loved me she wouldn’t have made me feel less than.  She wouldn’t have encouraged my brother’s abuses.  She wouldn’t have been jealous of my father’s attention.

I could go on and on there are many more examples…but let’s fast forward to adult relationships.

Just a couple examples:

 If “D” loved me he wouldn’t have chipped away at what little self-esteem I had. He wouldn’t have asked me why I deprived him from being with “hot” girls. He wouldn’t have literally spat in my face.

If “N” loved me he wouldn’t have told me how wonderful I was, how fun and creative and passionate I was but then break up with me cause it was time he settled down and he “didn’t want his kids to have a fat mom.”

You know what else love isn’t?

Love is not losing yourself in someone else.

It is not about sacrifice.  It is all well and good to do things for the ones you love AND you shouldn’t have to do so at the expense of yourself.

Love should not be based on fear.

Love should not hurt.

 

~Melanie Thomason

02/21/2020

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Filed under Random Brain Babble

Thank goodness they had gone.

 

 

Thank goodness they had gone.  She had never wanted them here in the first place.  She certainly didn’t invite them as she had never wanted to see them again for the rest of her life.  How had her parents even found her? She had left them behind years ago and thought she had left no trace for them to follow.

Gretchen picked up the tattered pieces of herself that their surprise visit had ripped from her with gnarled claws and gnashing teeth.  It had taken years to build herself up after an entire childhood of their abuses.  She thought she was past that part of her life and could no longer be hurt by them.  But it seems her self-esteem is still tenuous at best. She would heal, she promised herself, after all she had come so far and they didn’t own her anymore.

And, they were gone.  Gretchen heaved a sigh of relief and took a deep calming breath to center herself.  She could swear she could still smell them; that somehow evil had a stench and it had somehow lingered.  She might think about moving again later, but for now she set about cleaning…cleaning her apartment and herself to be rid of them again.  Gretchen turned the music up loud to drown out their voices in her head that she thought had been banished.  She cleaned and she sang and as the music filled her she started to feel better.

~Melanie Thomason

02/08/2020

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Filed under Stories

Before her first kiss…

image from Pixabay

 

Before her first training bra

she wasn’t even beginning to need one…

Before her first period

she had only heard of Aunt Flo…

Before her first crush

she wasn’t even interested in boys…

Before her first boyfriend

Before her first kiss…

He shattered her childhood

and took away her innocence

Does that make her sullied?

Does that make her less?

Does that count as losing her virginity?

~Melanie Thomason

2/20/2020

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

Victims

Victim 1: Thomas

“I’m here to report an assault.”

“Ok, sir, tell me what happened.”

Well I was at O’Malley’s Pub and John hauled off and punched me in the nose, he nearly broke it.”

“So this, John person, was a complete stranger to you?”

“Well no, officer, I knew him.”

“Oh, I see and how well did you know him?  Would you say you two were friends before this incident?”

“I guess you could say we were friends, at least I thought we were before he hit me.”

“Okay…and how is it that you came to see John this particular evening?”

Well we decided to go out and have a couple drinks and watch the game on the big screen, just like we did from time to time.”

“So, Thomas by your own account, you willingly went out with John to the pub and this was an ongoing relationship.  Right?”

“Yes”

“AND you were drinking alcohol.”

“Yes”

“So then you would have to agree you were a willing participant in the events.  You have to take responsibility for your actions you know.”


Victim 2: Richard

“Excuse me officer, I need to report a robbery.”

“I’ll be happy to assist you.  Tell me what happened.”

“I went to an ATM and this guy came up behind me and threatened to hurt me if I didn’t give him my money.”

“And did you?”

“What?”

“Did you give him your money?”

“Well yes, I did because I was afraid.”

“So you didn’t resist?  You didn’t fight back?”

“No, like I said I was afraid of what he might do so I just complied.”

“And when was this?”

“Late last night…well I guess you could say early this morning.”

“Well which is it?”

“It was around 2am.”

“What were you doing out at that time of night?”


Victim 3: Harrison

“I need some help officer, I was just sexually assaulted by a group of sorority sisters.”

“Hahaha,  good one.  What can I help you with?”

“No seriously, I was assaulted.” “Look, I took a picture of them with my cell phone.”

“You should be so lucky; I mean those girls could do much better than the likes of you.  Have you looked in the mirror?”

“Officer, I was violated and I want to file a complaint.  Can you please take this seriously?”

“Ok, ok, sir, simmer down.  (muttering under his breath ‘geez must be his time of the month’) So you are saying this just happened?”

“Yes!”

“And, this is what you were wearing?!”


Do you fine these scenarios ridiculous?  You should…they would never happen this way…

Do you find them infuriating? Callous? Alarming? Insulting?

Well you should, because ALL of these scenarios would play out this badly or worse if the Victims were Females who had be harassed, assaulted, beaten or raped.These are the exact kind of victim blaming questions that women have to deal with.

~Melanie Thomason

2/4/2020

2 Comments

Filed under Random Brain Babble, Rants, Stories

Blue and partly broken

 

 

see original photo here

see original photo here

 

Blue and partly broken

man has taken her flower 

made a poison of sex

before she ever had a chance

to bloom

on the vine

in the sun

but no worries,

“her injuries are minor”

 

 

 

 

 

~Melanie Thomason

a reblog in honor of Blue Monday

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

circles

https://i0.wp.com/blog.lawinfo.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/iStock_000002362202XSmall.jpg

a band of gold around your finger

shouldn’t feel like bracelets made of steel

you should feel his arm around your shoulders

not his hands around your throat

that is not love

 

11 Comments

Filed under micropoetry

Milk

 

This poem and fabulous watercolor painting by Georgiann Carlson

is from my book

Moonpies and Naugahyde

A Childhood Survived

Get it here!

4 Comments

Filed under Moonpies & Naugahyde, Poetry