“Tunnels take travelers from one place to another but someone who suddenly finds herself in the middle of a dark tunnel, seeing neither the beginning nor the end, might assume she is in a dark cave or room. She doesn't see that she is in a "journeying" place. For all she knows, this dark existence is permanent. Likewise, in the midst of my painful healing "process," it didn't appear to me as a process at all. "Process" assumes there is a journey taking place, a start and a finish. I only saw it as my world, my existence. I couldn't fathom a light at the end of my "tunnel" because I only knew what I had experienced, and what I had experienced was the "dark room" of abuse and violence.
"I AM PLUNGING
(By Morticia - 1992)
I am plunging
into a separate world.
It is full of isolated blackness.
No one can find me
or reach me.
I am lost.
In your world
I am non-existent.
I have fallen down the hole
and there is no bottom
to this pit
of black emptiness.
My despair
seeks escape
through my body,
but even the physical pain
can’t touch the depths of my emotions.
I am incapable of being found.
The acid has eaten through
my stomach walls
and leaks into the veins
that used to carry blood
to my broken heart,
now empty of blood.
My heart
fills with the caustic acid
and begins to pump
furiously
through what remains
of my aching life.
I wish the acid
would quickly eat the insides
that cry out in pain,
and forever end
the misery
waiting to bleed out in expression.
Will the pain
ever receive full expression?
Surely the bottom is no where
to be found.
Where is the ladder of escape?
I can’t reach the first rung.”
(By Morticia - 1992)
I am plunging
into a separate world.
It is full of isolated blackness.
No one can find me
or reach me.
I am lost.
In your world
I am non-existent.
I have fallen down the hole
and there is no bottom
to this pit
of black emptiness.
My despair
seeks escape
through my body,
but even the physical pain
can’t touch the depths of my emotions.
I am incapable of being found.
The acid has eaten through
my stomach walls
and leaks into the veins
that used to carry blood
to my broken heart,
now empty of blood.
My heart
fills with the caustic acid
and begins to pump
furiously
through what remains
of my aching life.
I wish the acid
would quickly eat the insides
that cry out in pain,
and forever end
the misery
waiting to bleed out in expression.
Will the pain
ever receive full expression?
Surely the bottom is no where
to be found.
Where is the ladder of escape?
I can’t reach the first rung.”
(My Tears Fall Inside, page 89 -91)
Although some of my writing was deeply depressed during this time and revealed a desire for death, the actual exercise of writing down those feelings dissipated the intensity of that pain. Writing was a method of getting the trapped feelings from the inside to the outside of my body and made it possible for me to bear the remaining pain. I also found that by sharing a poem like this with a support person, a door was opened inside which then allowed me to talk about what I was feeling. These things combined to facilitate me in my healing process.
Although some of my writing was deeply depressed during this time and revealed a desire for death, the actual exercise of writing down those feelings dissipated the intensity of that pain. Writing was a method of getting the trapped feelings from the inside to the outside of my body and made it possible for me to bear the remaining pain. I also found that by sharing a poem like this with a support person, a door was opened inside which then allowed me to talk about what I was feeling. These things combined to facilitate me in my healing process.
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