July 13, 2007
I was in a very rough patch after Mark's birth once again ripped all the old trauma open. This was especially bitter after all the work I'd done earlier, since I thought I was doing so much better. I was deeply grieved and angry. Deeply many feelings- anger, fear, grief, rage, betrayal, disappointment.
I decided to go to Grampa's grave at Fort Snelling. At first I hoped to pour ketchup all over his grave and scrawl "pedophile" and "murderer" on the gravestone. However, I had visions of being hauled away by military police for defacing a national cemetery. And something about it didn't seem quite right- a little too Hollywood and not personal enough. I waited for the idea to develop and eventually decided to salt his grave instead. It would melt into the ground, hopefully killing the grass, without leaving a trace. Besides the symbolism rocked.
I went and got my hair cut. I considered having my head shaved in mourning but decided that would make my intimate grief and anger too much for public consumption. My experience was private. Not secret, but very private. I got it cut short and asked for my hair clippings.
Anjali brought me home a mylar balloon- a big red heart. That was the last symbol.
I gathered supplies, bought a fancy envelope, paper, marker, and good glue, wrote out the flashback poem below, and off I went to the cemetery. I stabbed the balloon, shredded it, and "decorated" his grave with salt, my hair, and my heart; then I sat down and recreated it in my art journal.
I took a handful of the hair, salt, and balloon shreds, drove to my parents' home, and left some secretly on their curb.
I still felt anger, fear, grief, rage now mixed with elation and satisfaction. Scared and fierce and determined I had made my statement at his grave.
Flashbacks Under Joe's Safe Hands
spider hands
long thin
yellowed
reaching for me
black silhouette against the
white light of the
doorway
his hand clamping over
my mouth
silent screaming
shaking my head
violently
he plugs my nose
and my heart races in
panic- I can't breathe
& my heart stops
"Don't make a sound,
or I'll kill you"
wipes his semen on me
upward pressure from
vagina through uterus
and into diaphragm
and chest
hand/arm pressing on
my chest & torso
legs forced apart with
a lot of pressure
body think & heavy
body
expanding,
bubbling away
from soul
chest arms neck tongue
heavy & thick
uterus & vagina thin &
emaciated
arms pinned down?
left arm?
I was bad
I'm being punished
thumb-sucking
soothing
floating
disconnecting
tingling up sides of head
clenching of chest
fists
vagina
legs
pried open
forced
knee on leg
fingers probing
hurting
head tingles
chest constricts
floating
my throat clenches
constricts
my pelvic floor
constricts
weakens
hardens
screaming
screaming
screaming
without sound
without breath
push it down
force it closed
lodge it
lock it
I am a good child
I am a happy child
I am good
I will not be beautiful
I will not be wrong
or I will die
suffocated
suffocating on my own
screams
I can't keep my legs
together
I can't...
My soul and body
stretch apart
ripping
snapping
I can't...
I can't...
I can't scream
and
I can't remain silent
I can't weep
I can't fight back
I can't protect myself
I can't protect my
baby sister
except to shut up
numb out
hold still
jam it
wedge it
suck my thumb
eat sugar
read books
become fat & insulated
until I can't
even find me
don't let him
touch me or
he'll have
power
over
me
stop moving
numb
play dead
don't cry
don't scream
don't fight
death
powerless