azdesertrose: (Default)
the blades call to me
a siren's song

i don't have them any more
he took them away from me and threw them away

but still they call to me
a relief from pain in pain

just a few little cuts
and it will all be better

let me cry in blood
what i cannot cry in tears
azdesertrose: (Default)
Still writing the rape aftermath. It's very slow going. I asked in [livejournal.com profile] _survivors_ what people would want in a loving family's reaction to the rape, and I've gotten some very insightful and helpful responses so far.
azdesertrose: (Default)
GRRRRRRRRR.

I want a cigarette.

I'm trying to write; I'm still in the difficult rape-aftermath scenes, and it's hard enough for me to do this without people being loud and arguing over bullshit.

GODS I wish Cliff and I lived alone. I want to scream at his mother and sister for screaming at each other. I get so sick of it. I just want to scream in general.

Maybe I need to get out of the house, but if I do that I won't write, and I need to write.
azdesertrose: (Default)
Well, I decided not to describe the rape itself. The poor character gets brutalized, and this is only the prologue to the novel; I didn't want to set the tone for my novel with a graphic description of a brutal rape scene.

As things go, my character is "lucky"; I changed my mind about having her kill her husband/rapist but she scared him away with a dagger and a threat to use it on him. And she has a supportive family who see to it that she gets immediate medical care; she also has a politically powerful brother who is determined to see that her rapist is brought to justice.

It's going to take a while in the story for that to happen, but he's eventually going to get beheaded for it.

It's still hard to write, but it's not as bad as I was afraid it would be.

Writing

Apr. 20th, 2008 08:31 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
I'm writing a fantasy novel.

Tomorrow, I'm going to have to write a marital rape scene, although the rapist gets his comeuppance quite rapidly as he tries it a second time and gets his throat slit.

I don't want to write a rape scene but it's got to happen for the wife not to seem like an evil murderess for killing her husband, and her husband has to die for plot reasons.

I'm putting it off until tomorrow when Cliff is home so I can go snuggle him if I get triggered writing it.

I really hate that word, triggered, but nothing else describes that process as well. It just sounds so psychobabble to me.

Maybe it will be cathartic rather than triggering. We can hope.
azdesertrose: (Default)
forgive and forget, eh?
god forgives so we must forgive to be like god?
free yourself of your anger by forgiving?
bullshit

i do not fully remember; how can i forget
how can i forget when the memories haunt my dreams twenty years later
how can i forget when seeing someone who looks like him sends me into panic
how can i forget when the fact of it is in my thoughts every moment waking and sleeping

god forgives but the last time i checked
repentance comes before god's forgiveness
if god won't forgive without repentance then why should i?
and when he does not even acknowledge that he raped me
why should i forgive him?

free myself of my anger, huh?
my anger sustains me
it keeps me alive when i would give up and kill myself
the anger makes me strong enough to live, to defeat him by surviving

i can forgive
i forgive when someone comes to me and says
i hurt you and i'm sorry
but he has never said
i hurt you and i'm sorry
i can forgive
but if god doesn't have to forgive without repentance
then neither do i

a poem

Mar. 18th, 2008 06:15 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
Well, after not being inspired to write a poem for nearly a year, I finally wrote one.

my futon

in the dark of night
he crept to what we called my futon
held me down
and took what he wanted
whether i wanted to give it or not

he took from me my body
my childhood
my innocence
sometimes i think he took my sanity
my balance
my ability to be a whole person

now twenty years later
i live inside a damaged body
a damaged mind
a broken spirit

and yet i dare to dream
that someday
somehow
somewhere
i might become whole again

that i might like a phoenix
rise from the ashes of self
he left behind on my futon
rise from the brokenness
whole and strong and real
for the first time in my life

rise from the bloody ashen girl
from the scared child
from the shattered innocence
whole and strong and real
for the first time in my life

sense

May. 22nd, 2006 04:30 am
azdesertrose: (Default)
if anyone could see
behind my eyes
would it make any more sense
to someone else
because it doesn't make much sense to me

would the thoughts that race
inside my head
chasing each other
like kittens chasing their tails
make any more sense than they do to me

i find often that i cannot speak
i cannot say the things i should say
the thoughts that poison my soul
might be purged if only i could speak
might be robbed of their power if i could say their names

but because i cannot speak
because i can never show the darkness
the poisoning continues
the power is unbroken
the demons continue their war

but even if i could speak
would it even make any more sense
would the things that confuse me
confuse anyone else too
do i ever make sense
azdesertrose: (Default)
days happen
the sun rises
the sun sets
the moon and stars show their faces against the velvet of the sky

in the dark
my eyes open
my eyes close
time passes without me showing me nothing for the time

in the days
in the dark
i hear in memory
voices and thoughts and laughter and tears and everything

in the dark
with my eyes closed
i hear in memory
ideas and thoughts and realizations and memories and everything

but from the dark
with my eyes closed
i can say nothing
no one can hear the things i hear in memory

these are things
i cannot speak
i cannot illuminate
for you or for anyone the things i hear in memory

in the dark
my eyes open
my eyes close
time passes without me showing me nothing for the time

days happen
the sun rises
the sun sets
the moon and stars show their faces against the velvet of the sky
azdesertrose: (Default)
being depressed does not mean
that i never laugh
or never smile
or never find things amusing

being depressed does not mean
that i cry
all the time
that i mope

but just because
i can smile or laugh
just because
you don't see me crying

just because i can smile
it does not mean
that my tears do not fall
that i am not screaming inside

just because i can smile
it does not mean
that there is not a part of me
that wants to sleep forever

just because i can laugh
it does not mean
that i am not thinking
of ways to end myself

but no one sees this
no one sees the emptiness
of my smiles
hears the hollowness of my laughter
azdesertrose: (Default)
Okay, I'm new around here.

I've been having a lot of problems lately with anxiety and depression, and I suspect it's old issues coming up to haunt me again. I have a tendency to claw my skin and hit myself when I have panic attacks, which is mild as self-injury goes, but I understand it qualfies.


So, I've made an LJ just for this, because there are some people on my regular friends list that I just don't know well enough to trust with some of this information. I've joined several communities for sexual assault/abuse survivors and depression/anxiety/mental illness support, so this is an introductory post for all of them.

Cross-posted to [livejournal.com profile] _survivors_, [livejournal.com profile] better_ideas, [livejournal.com profile] erase_stigma, [livejournal.com profile] in_silent_decay, [livejournal.com profile] mybodytaken and [livejournal.com profile] desertrosedark.


Cut for length, and possible triggering )
azdesertrose: (Default)
hope dies a slow death
it has to be struck
more times than one can count
it has to be pushed down
humiliated
bitten scratched clawed
cut slashed
thrown against one brick wall too many

but it dies

and how does one revive it

when tomorrow is something to endure
when you're surprised you've lived this long
when there is no light at the end of the tunnel
when it seems that nothing you can do
will make anything any better

how does one revive hope

when everything you've tried has failed
when you can't find the motivation
to stop destroying yourself
because you don't believe you'll live
long enough to face the consequences

how does one revive hope

when sleep is a temporary relief
that you wish would last forever
when waking up fills you with dread
when you plan your ending
knowing that even in that, you fail

how does one revive hope

when the best ending you can see
is a quiet death
when you can see no way out
of this dark canyon
when life is not life, but a hell of your own making

how does one revive hope

when every possible path seems like a trap
when any decision seems like a disaster in the making
when you can smile and laugh
and no one sees what
is hiding beneath the mask

how does one revive hope

when anything you can say
when the greatest honesty you can manage
sounds self-centered or self-pitying
when the way out is blocked
by the words of those who do not know this canyon

how does one revive hope

when the demons have you down
bleeding, cut, bruised, broken
your armor slashed to uselessness
your weapons shattered or out of reach
your defenses utterly destroyed

how does one revive hope

when those who do not know
tell you that you can shake it off somehow
that it's all in your head
that it must be your fault
eventually you believe it

how does one revive hope

when the deepest part of you
believes you don't deserve happiness
that you could never attain contentment anyway
that peace is a foreign country
with its gates barred to the likes of you

how does one revive hope

when the hardest truth
is that you know your gifts
but believe them useless or worthless
and the world confirms that belief
because every attempt to use them has failed

how does one revive hope

when the pain inside is only relieved
by screaming thrashing scratching
ranting crying fits
that look ridiculous and feel worse
once they're over

how does one revive hope

when no one sees the death in your eyes
when no one notices the emptiness of your smile
when no one hears the hollowness of your laugh
when no light shines
when no sound emerges from your scream

how does one revive hope

when in some places
you're crazy for even thinking this way
and in others
you're not for real if you have no visible scars
and in still others you just want attention

how does one revive hope

hope dies a painful death
tortured beaten bashed in
it takes a long time but it dies
gasping and panting and clinging
and lying telling you there is a way out

how does one revive hope

when your soul has hit one brick wall too many

how does one revive hope
azdesertrose: (Default)
suicide is
a permanent solution to a temporary problem
or so they say
but how temporary are some of these problems

when you've spent your life
fighting the same demons
demons that do not die
only sleep for a time

when a day without tears
without panic
without terror
is the best day you can manage

when you know
that the panic and tears and terror
might go away for a time
but will always come back

they wait, those demons
they are patient
cunning in their darkness
brilliant in their deviousness

and these demons fight a war of attrition
they do not attack directly
but they cut your resources
until you have none left

fear is a black sheet
that can cover your eyes
that can twist itself into a rope
and strangle you

tears are a catharsis
and a trap
they can drain your energy
and drown you

panic is the thug of the mind
waiting around corners
to jump up and attack you
steal your day like a mugger steals your wallet

how many times will i walk this path
i've seen these streets too many times
and i'm tired of them
i want to be somewhere else

but this path lives within me
and i can take a holiday from it
but i can never make it go away
it stalks my dreams even during the better times

sometimes i'm surprised i've lived this long
sometimes it amazes me that i've not yet
drowned in my tears or
suffocated in my terror

and sometimes i think it's just waiting
for some other moment
waiting for me to drop my guard
waiting

because suicide is when
the black sheet chokes off all air
suicide is when
the flood of tears drowns you

suicide is when
the mugger sticks a knife in your heart
suicide is when
the demons finally win
azdesertrose: (Default)
sometimes i think i am just too sensitive
too easily wounded by the world

things that were probably not said to hurt me
tend to scrape my soul
things done in moments of thoughtlessness
(and everyone is thoughtless sometimes)
tend to bruise my heart

sometimes i think it is this trait
more than any other
that makes me want to hide from the world
or leave it altogether
that feeds my fantasy of a mountaintop cabin
far from other people
that feeds the dream of the white room
that makes me want to heed the call of Yeats' fae narrator

i am no longer a child
is it too late to walk with a faery hand in hand
from a world more full of weeping than i can understand
azdesertrose: (Default)
who was that girl
who thrived on the energy
of a crowded shopping mall

who was that girl
who bought gifts
never worrying about
whether they were good enough

who was that girl
who opened her presents
and never gave a thought
to whether she deserved them

who was that girl
who decorated everything in sight
with joy in her heart

who was that girl
who revelled in the cooler weather
putting on sweaters and jackets
and laughing

who was that girl
who sang carols
who sang in Christmas productions
who sang happily

where did she go
to be replaced by this woman
whose eyes are never dry
during this season

where did she go
to become this woman
whose neck and head aches
with the tension in her heart and mind and body and soul

where did she go
that she turned into
me
azdesertrose: (Default)
this time of year has never been good for me
i am attacked on this side
by horrendous memories
of things that never should have happened
between father and daughter
between husband and wife

and on another side
there are the usual holiday stresses
gift shopping and budgeting and
how to get everyone where they're supposed to be when they're supposed to be there
it makes me want to tear my hair out and scream obscenities

and on another side
there are the others in my life
one who is upset because i've closed my doors to him
one who seems to be attacking me at every turn
one whom i rarely manage to see any more because
life is pulling us apart

it seems i always return to this place
the place where i want to curl up in a ball
and hide forever
the place where i want to tell everyone to just go away
the place where i want to scream hideous angry words
the place where i want to cry endless torrents of tears
and the only way to get away from this place
is to leave everything behind
to close my eyes forever
to surrender to the siege
azdesertrose: (Default)
i wonder why
it seems that when i get upset
everyone gets upset at me

as if i am supposed to be
an island of calm
in everyone else's tempestuous sea

my family never liked it
the men get embarrassed
and mother acts as though emotion is beneath her

my friends i suppose
are too accustomed
to the public me

and when the private me
dares to show her face
dares to cry

everyone else runs to hide
or gets angry at me
or turns away

i never claimed to be
easy to deal with
but this is why

i feel that i can never show
anything to anyone
because no one likes it

because no one likes
who i am
when i am not smiling
azdesertrose: (Default)
you really don't know
do you
you really never saw

i wonder how
you never saw
but maybe i hide things
too well
too much practice

i wonder how
you never saw
you lived with me for years
you knew about so many things
and yet you never saw

you still don't see
do you
you never noticed

am i that good
at blending into the woodwork
at building walls
at hiding inside myself
am i really that good at it

if anyone should know
you should
and yet you never saw

or did you see
and just couldn't say anything
paralyzed by your own fears
your own roadblocks
those things that keep you from speaking

because you never seemed
to like to speak of emotion
or to show it

maybe that's why it seems
like you never noticed
like you didn't know
as though you couldn't see
the things i tried to hide

or did you not see
and i just wish you could
see me as i am
and not as who you want me to be
azdesertrose: (Default)
tremors in my body
lightning in my mind
shake me everywhere
as if from without

fear without source
terrors without cause
send me reeling
as if i'd been struck

why does this happen
what is the cause
of the times when
i cannot hold still

why do i shake
why do i want to scream
why do i want to run away from myself
why can i not calm myself

in these times i feel
as if my mind has been stolen
as if my body is no longer mine
as if something else controls me

which in rational moments
i know is not true
but i can't stand the feelings
i hate these times

i want to run away
i want to hide
i want to close my eyes
and not open them anymore

the pain covers me
the tremors take me
the panic captures my mind
i want it to stop
azdesertrose: (Default)
the sky is gray with rainclouds
not storming
just gray
as i feel inside
just gray

i feel so tired
so dark
weary
as if i could just curl up
and cry

days like this
i don't want to do anything at all
i don't want to get up
i don't want to talk
i don't want to open my eyes
and face myself
i just want to cry

but as the sky is gray
but not raining
i too am gray
and unable to cry
unable to move at all
just gray inside

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azdesertrose

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