A poem by Traci Neal
Met a young man at a college party.
He was a perpetrator, a deceiver and
I was robbed. For years, I thought
it was my fault. I let this individual
into my marketplace, my dorm room.
What started off as kissing led to
manipulation. Before I could retreat,
he broke me into pieces. Blame and
shame were two words I carved into
the doorway of my heart.
I felt annihilated, agitated, anxious.
The reasons behind my vast emotions
were my neurological conditions of
ADHD and Autism. They were having
an argument about what just happened
to my body. I did not even know they
existed. I found out in my thirties, yet
I had been taken advantage of at age 20.
Broken people feel shattered, but healing
is obtainable. Came to forgiveness
after asking for help. Joined a sexual
trauma program. Found the courage to
do so when one guy I dated told me to
seek guidance. He told me I could not
deal with this alone. He is deceased.
I am delivered.
Sometimes, it takes time to take the route
of forgiveness. I know, from experience, it
is the formula for healing. Hatred is a heavy
weight, creates hateful humans. Had to
hang up the phone every time it kept
ringing in my ear for me to answer its call.
Once I gave forgiveness my hand,
we were made into a marriage unit.
I committed to it, it showed me how
to heal. I forgave myself for feeling
like a failure since I allowed a young
man into my personal space, believed
his choice was my mistake. I forgave
him for choosing to utilize his male
power as profit without any consideration
of my own lingered pain.
None of us are supposed to be on
an isolated island. Survivors’ bodies have
gone through a tsunami. We build
them back up by breaking away from
silence, by speaking our truth, changing
the narrative.
Survivor, we are worth fighting for.
We build back our bodies when we have
more stories, more policies,
more advocacies, more involvement
all over the world.
We must stand united