Sticks and Stones Can Break My Bones, But You Can't Make Me Your Victim

My father was talking with me the other night about how to deal with an upcoming meeting, likely to turn to confrontation, with my mother. We were talking about how she is likely to goad me into picking a fight, and to find a way to engage with me physically. He explained she has always played the victim in her life, how apparently her parents never loved her the same as her other siblings, how she never got what she wanted, how she was an outcast at school, and how both men she married were abusive alcoholics and that's why things didn't worked out, when most people who know her ex-husbands know they are far from either abusive or alcoholic. And I couldn't help but think, how do these apparent things make her a victim? What true horrors has she faced that she could even partly justify being a victim?

Everyone is comprised of both their parents, for better or for worse. My dad told me, "Don't be a victim, Red," and I started to think about all the things I could claim I was a victim of. But I'm not a victim. I am not crippled by the horrors of my past. My mom left me on the front step in freezing rain on New Year's Eve, my mom called the police on me because I was trying to leave her to get home from an abusive visitation session, my mom tried to get me kicked out of school on enough occasions that she was banned from calling the school--but I am not a victim of her. She has not broken me. I will not let her break me. And even besides my mother, I will not be a victim to anyone else. "Don't be a victim, Red," he said. And I thought, No, I'll be a victor.

*     *     *

I am not the victim of bad parenting,
     I am a survivor of bad parenting.
I did not have my spirit broken.
     I am a victor.

I am not the victim of spread rumors,
     I am a survivor of caddy nonsense.
I did not lose who I am inside.
     I am a victor.

I am not the victim of betrayal,
     I am a survivor of the back-stab.
I did not lose the ability to trust others.
     I am a victor.

I am not the victim of child abuse,
     I am a survivor of child abuse.
I did not let her hurt my soul.
     I am a victor.

I am not the victim of sexual assault,
     I am a survivor of sexual assault.
I did not let him take my pride.
     I am a victor.

They cannot make me the victim.
     I will be a survivor.
I am not a victim,
     I am a victor.

~E J Royson

Even With Both Hands Moving

Tick.
Keep your mind busy.
Tick.
Keep your hands moving.
Tick.
Take some pills and fall asleep.
Tick.
It's 3am and the pills have worn off.
Tick.
The ceiling is a white canvas for your imagination.
Tick.
You put on headphones and listen to music to block it all out.

Tick.
But the lyrics.
Tick.
The next song too.
Tick.
How about television?
Tick.
Reruns, boredom takes over.
Tick.
Your mind needs something to do.
Tick.
More pills, more music, more television, more sleep.

Tick.
The phone lights up.
Tick.
Do you look at it?
Tick.
You're desperate.
Tick.
Just a spam email.
Tick.
You lay back down.
Tick.
      Tock.
             Tick.
                   Tock.
                          Tick.
                                Tock.

You tell yourself only a few more days.
Just a few, you'll get through it.
Not knowing is killing you.
Knowing could be all that much worse.
How could it get worse?
It always gets worse.
More pills.
More music.
More television.
More sleep.

It's morning.
Rinse, Repeat.

~E J Royson