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Knoxville, TN

Joie de VIVre

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VIV Moment

As a child, I had toys and played with the neighborhood kids, but on the weekends it was a different story. I suffered sexual and verbal abuse — things that I shouldn’t have endured. For years, I kept these dark secrets to myself. I felt like I was dirty — as if the abuse at the hands of my father from ages 4 to 12 was all my fault. To ensure my silence, my father also threatened to hurt my little brother, whom I adored, if I told anyone what was happening.

Because I was afraid to say anything, I wrote poems about what I was going through. I didn’t open up to anyone else about the abuse until I was in my 30s. I felt I was doing alright until my little brother was killed in a motorcycle accident in 2003. That triggered a series of suicide attempts — I would run my vehicle off the road, but that caused only some damage to my truck. One day in 2006, shortly before my 44th birthday, I decided to drown myself. The last thing I remember is lowering myself into the river. I woke up in the hospital. A volunteer fireman had been fishing on the banks and saw me float by and rescued me. The doctors told me I was lucky to survive, without water getting into my lungs or suffering any brain damage.

Whatever is at the other end of this life wasn’t ready for me. I realized during that time that I needed to change. I couldn’t give up. Doctors say I was lucky to get this second chance, but I still didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, after the last suicide attempt, I was placed in a psychological hospital and received therapy at a healthcare facility, where I could get the help that I needed. During a therapy session, my therapist and I were discussing coping skills and how they help. I thought of my poems I’d written as a product of my abuse and showed her one of them. After she read it, she suggested that I get them published and then re-read them to see how I reacted, to see how I felt and to see if they triggered flashbacks. Looking them over, I thought, “Wow, I actually wrote these.” I had disassociated myself from those poems; it was as if somebody else — the little girl inside of me — had written them.

Several weeks went by and I was in another therapy session discussing coping skills with a new group, and there again I showed them some of my work. They, too, suggested that I get the poems published. I got to thinking, “All these people can’t be wrong — and besides, what is it going to hurt?”

I took my best work, put it together and submitted it to AuthorHouse Publishing and six months later, A Survivor’s Tale (AuthorHouse, 2009) was delivered to my door. It was fantastic — even though the book is self-published, I somehow couldn’t believe I was holding it in my hands. The poems are grouped into chapters detailing my journey, from “The Early Years” to “Dark Moments” to “Guidance and Support.” With these poems that helped me cope with abuse, I want to give a voice to victims and survivors who don’t have voices. I want to let them know that they’re not alone and that there’s help for them.

Tags: AuthorHouse Publishing, fireman, healthcare facility, therapist

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