My first poem was a suicide note.
and i’m in an impossible place
the choice between life and death
hangs in the balance
I was 16 and had just ended an unhealthy relationship with the first boy I’d ever fallen in love with. Let’s just call him Jason. We were an unlikely couple, Jason and I. I was a nerdy, straight-A student and Jason was a high school dropout who couldn’t even sell enough weed to move out of his mom’s house. Still, I liked the danger, the excitement of dating an older guy who hung on to my every word. We did everything together, me skipping school to hang out with him for days at a time.
It took me a while to figure out that Jason’s “devotion” was really possessiveness, which eventually became physical abuse as his drinking got out of hand. At first, the violence was subtle. Things like Jason getting drunk and high with his boys and then choking me when I nagged him about it. “My bad, babygirl,” he would say, and all would be forgiven. I wanted to chalk it up to the stress of Jason studying for the GED and trying to find a decent job without a high school diploma.
The final straw came after an argument about Jason refusing to give me a ride to my volunteer site after school. (The irony? I was volunteering for a suicide hotline.) We began yelling at each other in a fight that quickly became physical on my parent’s front lawn. I slapped him first, my tiny hand meeting his muscular, almond-colored jaw. He paused for a moment, then said resolutely, “I don’t let nobody hit me in my face.” Then, he picked me up and threw all 105 pounds of me onto the ground. Jason might have been shorter than the average 18-year-old, but his body was ripped from lifting weights during the day while everyone else was in school or at work.
He body-slammed me, wrestling style. I don’t remember how long I laid there on the ground, my face in the dirt. I was physically hurt, but more than that, emotionally crushed as I tried to figure out how I had let this person so deep into my life, into my heart.
I realized that I didn’t really know him at all.
This was almost 14 years ago. What followed was me getting a restraining order against Jason, me taking him back out of fear, him stalking me at 2 am outside my bedroom window, me taking him back after missing him so much it hurt to breathe. Because of that relationship, I vowed to never, ever date another man with a drinking problem. And as far as I know, I haven’t.
***
That first melancholy poem I wrote helped me begin to process my 16-year-old feelings. Although I experienced many long nights after ending my relationship with Jason, I did not, obviously, commit suicide. Most days, I just wanted to curl up and die, but I dove headfirst into writing instead. I’d always loved reading and the written word, but poetry became my savior. I had a wonderful English teacher who encouraged me to write through my pain and begin to build a creative life for myself. That teacher, with her books and her words and her love, provided an outlet for me at a time in my life when I felt I had nowhere else to turn.
I’d always known I’d be going to college, but it was my love of poetry and literature that led me to major in English and pursue a life of creativity. During college, I finally learned how to transform my writing into something that could be useful outside myself. I published in my university’s literary journal. I began to organize poetry readings and share my work out in the community. And when I was 19, I was able to connect with several local nonprofit organizations who needed someone to write grant proposals to help them bring about social change. Ten years later, here I am, still working in the nonprofit field and (hopefully) still putting my writing to good use.
***
A few months ago, Jason emailed me to congratulate me on my “good work.” My life and email address are both all over the internet, so I suppose he just searched my name in Google. I am cordial. “How are you?” I ask. Then I Google his name. Up comes a bunch of search results of people who are not him (he has a pretty common name) and a glaring link from the Florida police department. Apparently, Florida posts mug shots online of everyone who gets arrested in the state. The link to Jason’s mug shot shows a gaunt, haggard version of the handsome face I remember. It’s from a 2004 arrest: battery, domestic violence.
I sit back in my chair, stunned. Five years after we broke up, after Jason begged me to take him back for the last time, vowing to never hurt me again … he was arrested for domestic violence, presumably for hitting another girl.
***
Last week, I began taking a 6-week poetry class here in Charlottesville. As we start in on a timed freewriting exercise, the words spill out like blood onto the page, tumbling over each other to find their place in the mess. Suddenly, I’m back in my 10th grade classroom, writing poems about a boy who loved me so much it hurt. I’m rusty and my Moleskine creaks open to receive the lines of metaphor about where I am, where I’ve been and where I want to go.
This is poetry, saving my life once again. It’s certainly not a substitute for therapy, but it is a way to figure out what’s happening on the inside.
Do you write poetry? If so, how has it helped you in your personal growth?
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Thank you for this post. This summer I did a Poem A Day Writing Challenge that blessed my soul , writing has been very healing for me as well. You should look up the Institute for Poetic Medicine-http://www.poeticmedicine.com
I think you would enjoy the information provided. Take care.
This is my story as well.. I thank god I did not succeed in my suicide attemp. My mom knew something was up. I had taken a bunch of aspirin and when to sleep.
I too had an English teacher that encourage be to begin writing poetry and some 25 years later I still right. But when I read my old writing the tone was that I was lonely and never felt loved. I found your site thru merelymarie I am so glad .
Thank you for this post Rosetta. I have not experienced DV personally, but unfortunately had to witness my mother deal with it with an ex-boyfriend and continues to in some respects – death threats, restraining orders, the whole bit. What’s worse is 2 children are involved that he cares nothing about but uses as pawns in his games with her and the legal system.
I have never been good at poetry, but writing is definitely an outlet and a great way for me to really get things off my chest and my mind settled. I’ve been doing a lot more of it as I progress through the re-set challenge, and I am reconnecting with the therapeutic aspect of it as a result.
Thank you again for always being so inspiring.
So much to say without knowing where to begin! First I follow you on twitter and absolutely admire your posts!! I’ve been writing poetry since 6th grade. I grew up witnessing domestic violence in the home. Quite a shy child from that experience but a lover of books, I stumbled upon a poetry book in my aunts attic and that is where my expression was birth. An outlet for me of the pain witnessing abuse had on me, my desire to learn more about the true foundation of love, a lover without any examples, I wrote… Incessantly. In college I battled nightmares and flashbacks and in that place of going through therapy I began volunteering with the local children who witnessed domestic violence group. From there my platform was created and I have been writing/ sharing my story as an activist of that issue; giving a voice to those bound by the makeup they wear to cover their pain.
So thank you!
Poetry saved my life and your transparency may have saved someone else.
All my love,
Caneeka
Thank you for sharing your story here, Caneeka. It’s amazing that you went from writing about your experiences to speaking out and helping others who witnessed violence as well. All the best to you in your work!
WowWowWow.
Firstly, I thank you so much for being transparent! This is what I love about your blog. You find a way to tactfully disclose information about your life that is still able to resonate with people. I have a really hard time writing about relationships because I don’t want anyone to think I’m telling all of the guys business. But it’s MY business too!
Secondly, I too, used to write poetry when I was younger. I wasn’t much of a talker growing up. I constantly read (I had my own library at home) and I journaled a lot. Not at all anymore and I don’t know why. I’m glad it worked as an outlet for you. So glad!
I started writing when I was nine years old…well, actually, I fell into it by way of a classroom assignment. After that, I started writing poetry…mostly to help me get through my teenage years, which were difficult and often painful to remember. If not for that, I think I would have been a basket case. I still write, but for different reasons…now, I write to celebrate the resilience and spirit that has brought me to this point in life. In the future, I want to use my poetry to do open mics and publish…and maybe create a blog with them.
Yes to celebration poetry
Thanks for stopping by!
Your post inspired me to explore this topic on my own blog. If you don’t mind, may I track back to this post?
Thank you for posting this…I started writing poetry when I was 12yrs old and stopped a while ago, I am rusty, but it has pulled me from a brink of nothingness and a life of self mutilation! Once again thank you!
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your comment about how poetry can give our lives meaning. I can say that it has done the same for me – many, many times over.
Wow, amazing post and so transparent. I didn’t have an abusive relationship until my 20s, and the 1st time they hit me was the last time thank God … and I got in some whops of my own after that truth be told. I do recall having several relationships that were like dude was the air I breathed while younger … and it’s still my perchant to go waist deep into a relationship really fast, but I thank God for my marriage. Concerning poetry, I used to write when I was younger, but stopped many years ago and don’t see me doing it any longer. I can’t even remember if I was that good, I just know I needed to get stuff out my head. I’ve always kept a journal, which is most likely why blogging has come so easily to me for so long. Thanks again for sharing, awesome post!
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I totally understand your sentiments about poetry, Rosetta. I started writing in middle school and then was encouraged by my English teacher to attend the only arts high school in the city. From there I was published a few times and just took off with my writing. For me, writing was therapy.
Although I wasn’t in a physically abusive relationship (he was more verbal and mentally abusive), but reading this post just took me back to my first boyfriend. He too had dropped out of high school. I encouraged him to go for his GED but he didn’t want to. He loved the streets more. He was the first guy to ever buy me a gift, and my family had a FIT when they saw he had bought me a pair of Nike’s for Christmas. My mother said, ‘You’re going to walk all over him.’ But I loved him deeply, hard and strong. He was from Nigeria, brought to this country when he was 2 years old, his father didn’t approve of me because I wasn’t Caucasian and thought I was ‘fat.’ I knew I should’ve ran from this relationship because he stayed with a young White girl; she wasn’t his girlfriend but I found out later on that they had a child together that died at birth. He would beat her. Call her names. Spit on her even. And I KNEW of these things. I was young and just plain STUPID. I was 16. He was 19/20 at the time. I didn’t know any better. I can hear my younger self saying things like, ‘but he didn’t hit me’, ‘he didn’t spit or yell at me.’ What he did to me was much more deeper than physical scars. He became even more possessive when I went away for college. Needless to say we didn’t last my freshman year. And I’m glad that we didn’t.
I looked him up a few years ago in New York’s Inmate Search one day. I saw that he had been locked up for robbery and 2 counts of 2nd degree rape (he was just released not too long ago). Amazing what life has brought me through. I swear this wasn’t the young man that I fell in love with, let alone lost my virginity to.
I’m glad I can look back at this part of my life, shake my head, laugh, cry and be thankful that I am the person that I am today. But a part of me still prays for him, hoping that he’s in his ‘right mind’ as my grandmother would say and keep it moving. Poetry will always be a release for me though, blogging even has taken over. But thank you for sharing your story. It resonated with my memories.
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Wow, what a story. So glad you didn’t stay with old boy for the long haul. Thank you for sharing part of your journey here
I have been writing poetry since I was about 8 years old when I found some poetry in my teeny bop magazines. I have loved it ever since, and totally understand exactly what you mean when you say that it has saved your life. It has saved mine on more than one occasion. Thanks so much for sharing.
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Thank you for sharing your story with us.
I’ve never been a poetry writer myself. I do keep a lot of journals for personal notes and thoughts. I would like to pursue journaling a bit more consistently — maybe write when I first wake up or at night before going to bed…sort of a reflection of what has transpired throughout the day.
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Trying to figure out where to start. This post hits me in so many pressure points. I haven’t written a poem in YEARS and don’t really have a desire to do so but I clearly remember putting pen to paper as a teen/young adult – trying to get my feelings out in a way that made sense. I clearly remember the boyfriend who assaulted me in HS looking me up years later & contacting me as if nothing had happened. I clearly remember falling into a “relationship” with the last person or TYPE of person I would ever want to be with & having him become abusive after I became pregnant. I went from writing poetry to journaling to being in too much pain to journal. Some days I try to force myself to though. I love that you found an outlet in your poetry and that you had someone to support & nurture your talent and most of all, that you made it through b/c you’re doing so many great things.
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Oh Tamara – I had no idea. Why don’t we get a chance to talk about these things in person??? Anyway, I really appreciate you sharing. That must have been a terrible experience for you to go through not just as a woman, but as a mama. At the time, I know I felt so stupid for falling for someone like Jason.
I keep a journal as well, but for the past few years, I’ve been on and off with both poetry and journal-writing. What I’m realizing is that whenever I go too long without either of those outlets, I start feeling lost. It’s the best way I’ve found to make sure I stay in touch with who I am.
I’m so glad that we BOTH made it through – and that we keep showing up for life. *hugs* to you
This was beautiful. I can’t even articulate how I’m feeling right now, but I had to comment and say thank you for sharing this.
Nikita – thank you, as always, for reading.
Poetry can be a powerful and life changing/life saving tool. I am glad that you and June were able to come out of those situations and still be with us. Not many woman do. My first job was working as a counselor for a hotline that dealt with suicides and domestic violence. It was there that I was given a poem and it called I got flowers today. The lady in the poem talk about how she finally got flowers and too bad that is not her birthday but her funeral. If I fin d it again I will post it.
I use to write myself. It’s been years since I write a poem. I don’t know where my writing muse went. I still have my books and look at it from time to time. A lot of it was about boys (lol) and a few serious ones. I just might take a break today and read some of my poems but I don’t want to cry.
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I think I’ve seen that poem floating around the internet somewhere. It’s so sad, but so true.
I’ve heard lots of writers and poets say that they are most creative during periods of sadness or grief or loneliness. I get that way for some of my writing, but thankfully my muse has stuck with me through happy times as well. I’ve gotten rid of most of my old journals during my big purge, but I do read some of them from time to time. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I just thank God for how far I’ve come since then.
Thanks for stopping by. I always love seeing your face here
Here’s a copy of the poem just in case other here would like to read it – http://victimtosurvivor.com/?tag=paulette-kelly (warning the site has an auto music player at the bottom)
You welcome. I am still an avid read of this blog, need to comment more. I agree most of my poems came from sad periods, although I had some in the past few years I haven’t pick up a pen and paper. Maybe I should I miss that hobby of mines.
Wow.
Well, I’ve never been in an abusive relationship (there but for the grace). I just wanted to commend you for having enough strength to finally leave and do good with your life. Bless.
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Thank you, as always, for reading. Are you still in Portugal? I’ve been following your posts about your experience there. I’ll be spending a week or so in Spain in August and briefly played with the idea of spending a few days in Portugal along the way.
Rosetta, as I read your article, it brought me back to my past relationships. I can so identify with what you went through because I went through something similar with my two ex husbands. The first not only abused me emotionally and physically he also cheated on me openly. The emotional and physical pain was so intense sometimes that the only way I found release was through writing poems. I’ve got a collection of poems. They are filled with so much pain and heartache.
My second husband used to get high and drunk and hit me. He also cheated on me and had a baby with one of his ex girlfriend after we got married. Once again I found solitude in writing poems.
Like you, I have always had a passion for writing. As a little girl I would see visions of me being an author of books. Instead of writing books, I turned to poetry for release of all the pent up pain and anger that dominated my feelings.
I’ve got a few on my blog. But not many from the first ones that I wrote when I was in those abusive relationships.I intend to publish them one day. Maybe someone will read them and it help to ease their pain.
Thanks for sharing this. It touched my heart.
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Wow, June – thank you for stopping by and sharing your story here. I’m so sorry you went through that with both of your husbands. It’s amazing how an art form like poetry can help comfort us. Peace to you for continued healing.