Colorful vignettes painted softly with inspiration in hope of recovery blending light humor into adult life confounded by misdiagnosed ADD leading to child abuse drenched under cloudbursts of PTSD.

Complex PTSD is psychological injury resulting from continual abuse. There’s no escape because the abuser is often a parent.
Abusers may have Sadistic Personality Disorder. The hallmark of SPD is that the person enjoys inflicting cruelty upon others.

i: When Madness Howled Back


I
dreamt
of becoming
a poet or writer,
not an adult survivor.
In grammar and high schools,
I read or wrote in spare moments.
When discovered in creative solitude,
they told me my introverted behavior was
abnormal and that I needed psychiatric help!



Off we went to see
the psychiatrist.
But I knew
enough
not to
say
anything.


She sat right
outside the door
and if I answered the
doctor's questions with the
truth he would tell her and
that would be it for me!
So I sat there for almost
an hour, staring at
his shoes, too
petrified to
utter a
word!


Pretensions
of psychology
repressed the creative
individual I was becoming.
Much I had written by the age
of twelve merely served to darken
the gloom of my black and white life.



Nonetheless, my dream never expired.
From age five, progressing by degree of
varying intensity and devious by design,
daily maltreatment replaced nurture
and care by the bearer of my life.
The utter disgust, revulsion and
hatred for me she imparted
to me grew in magnitude
with her ignorance of
the affliction that
accompanied
me in this
world.



To pour
fuel over
her consuming
and ceaseless rage,
it was Inattentive in type!
In the early 1960’s ADHD became
associated only with extreme behavior.


Sadly and with tragic consequences,
Inattentives were considered
merely lazy, unmotivated
and accused of not
trying hard or
even at all!


The
beautiful
word 'mother'
describes those who
safeguard the human race
and ensure it from extinction.
They bring life to the world
with playful affection and
loving embraces which
stimulate the flourish
of growth and
blossom.


Mothers have skills that
soothe fears, calm worries,
diminish hunger, warmly clothe;
teach with relaxed patience
yet firmness before the
sincere kiss to tuck
their gift of life
safely into
bed each
night.


Mothers
possess and
explain mysterious
answers to where the
wind and rain come from,
why the sun shines though
stars merely twinkle;
how high is the sky,
or deep the ocean,
and what makes
them blue?


Today,
whispering
mists reveal a
long-buried dream.
Having burrowed under


years of adversity in composts,
rhizomes now outbloom fragile beauty,


plush in affirmations of love, faith and security.

Fiction is never preposterous or unbelievable as life!




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