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I cannot explain this strange

It twists and twirls,
out of reach of

It is like a funnel
burning inside,
frying thoughts.

My heart races to the outside,
my skin sweats.

It pierces craziness
which cannot be explained,
only felt,
only experienced.

If you have never
been in its grip
you could never know
how it feels.

Confusion, anxiety,
panic, all mixed
into one disorder,


Living Intentionally


This poem was written describing some of the entangled emotions I felt while in the depth of my journey as an adult who had suffered childhood trauma.  It is difficult to tell of how this felt, many emotions at once, gripping me, taking over me, hindering me from being who I am now.

This seems like a lifetime ago and it very much was.  I am far removed from those cyclical episodes haunting me, a shadow of what once was, a past that is now in the past.

I am no longer that frightened adult who felt she had to hide those feelings, as if I were some sort of freak, or ‘different’ from others.  This is what abuse had done to me.  It made me feel like I was set apart, in an abnormal way.

I carried deep-seated feelings of rejection for many years.  I was unable to love myself because I never felt loved as a child.  I did not even know what this word love was.

All I knew was the pained sorrow and hurt in my chest.  A sense of isolated lonliness, even when surrounded by people.

What I did not know, were these feelings had a name.  Their name was shame.  The shame I carried in me as a result of what had been done to me. The shame that shrouded my person, violating me in every level of my identity.

The shame that had shrouded who I longed to be.

Ths shame that was not mine, but belonged to the one who did the shaming, my dad.


Living Intentionally



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