Poem-

Our own suffering saved our sanity.
Handing to us an elevated sense of self,
as we watch clouds curse evening hours.
Isn’t it all a lovely affectation;
the abuser smiling fondly
within their crowd.

-M. Taggart

Evolved

Some of you may know that for the first three years of Gavin’s life, I was his primary care giver. Never have I hit Gavin. I don’t believe in hitting as a form of discipline. I couldn’t imagine inflicting that mental and physical distress on a child.

Now, he has fun, three days a week at daycare and is enrolled for Pre-K. However! Every morning I keep him 🙂 I play with him, I read to him and I make his breakfast. I ask him, “Gavin, what would you like for breakfast?” Lately his reply has been, “I’d like an english-muffin with peanut butter and chocolate, big-big strawberries, raspberries, apple juice, and a water. Paleaseeeee.” I drink coffee while preparing his breakfast and watch as my little Gavin plays with his dinosaurs or sea creatures. Or, a puzzle. Or anything. I love spending this time with him. When I was his age, I had no father. I made it very clear to myself and anyone listening that I was determined to be there for Gavin. Always. To be his primary care giver for the first three years of his life was a blessing.

And now, when I pick him up from daycare (we call it school because it’s much like a school) he smiles SOO big and yells, “That’s my Dad!” And man…..man does that feel good. It’s simple. I’m here to be a loving, supportive, husband and father. Writing is a bonus that I am ragingly thankful for.

Often I think of children who have been tortured, abused, and manipulated. I was that child. I broke the cycle. We all can break the cycle, if we are aware and want to. Mental illness is a subject I take very seriously. I believe that we, as humanity, have barely begun to truly understand how deep, or to understand how many levels concerning mental illness there are. I believe there are forms of mental illness that have evolved our human race. I also believe there are forms that are evil. I think it’s important for the broken children who have been abused to understand they are not the evil ones.

They are the evolved.

 

Matt

see – DID

It’s cold.
I need to talk about what happened.
Fingers typing aren’t always me.
Please though, come.
The floor again is open.
Eyes that shouldn’t be are.
Don’t fade, please not that.
We’ll do the best we can.

 

It’s good to see you.

Odd Walking Thoughts

We saw it during a snow storm. The face smiled at us and whistled a friendly thing. We hadn’t known many things friendly. We were alone again. Standing in the storm with the rest of the normal we knew. Only, there was something in that face which told of another way. So, we searched on, carrying Hope as our witness until fruition of proof shapes itself no longer around metallic rage.

-M. Taggart

#There’s No Excuse For Abuse

The best way to talk to a survivor is to listen. I believe this with my soul.

If you’ve crawled out from the mud of an abuser you are not alone. While you felt alone and may still, you are not. That was what they wanted you to feel to protect their abuse from being discovered. You have a voice. Use it. Internally, or written as a diary to yourself, or on a platform such as what I’m doing now. Speak of your abuse out loud and it becomes real to the world, and to the abuser. Stop protecting them. You no longer need to keep their secrets. Seek others who understand your pain and speak to a therapist who can give you tools you’ll need to make you a healthier you. You deserve all of this. It was never your fault. Research F.O.G. and set boundaries for any Flying Monkeys that may still be in your life, or go no contact. Do whatever YOU need to do for you. No longer for them. Abusers will use control tactics and manipulation to keep you silent. I know this. I was you. And now I’m me. We are not alone. They cannot break us. They tried and failed. You will not fail. While the mud from crawling may linger, you will wash it off. And when their excuses flood your mind from multiple players in the game of manipulation- Give them one response and walk away. There’s No Excuse For Abuse.

#There’snoexcuseforabuse

-M. Taggart

About:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/

Published Work:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Be Well. Be True.

I’m happier today.
I’ve never been one to sloth around in depression
but I do realize I’ve recently been in a place where
I could again do things most wouldn’t; things I need
to never repeat. It’s not a friendly piece-of-mind that
still lives within me. They say trigger words are real.
No shit. The people that learn this are the same that
say, after the fact, “That’s not you. You’re not like that.”
Maybe if people listened a bit more and learned about
what triggers victims, maybe they wouldn’t be so confused.
And notice the statements are control statements.
They just don’t get it.

I realize this may make very little sense to some who will read this.
But to the young eyes that fall onto these words that do understand,
when you feel your anger rise after being triggered, know that you are not alone.
I still struggle controlling that part of me. I’m not sure that it ever goes away.
But I can tell you that I survived the self-hate and self-abuse and I am happy.
You can be happy too. If you come into a situation that will likely trigger
you, leave. If they care enough to know, they’ll ask later. If not, don’t worry about it.
And don’t worry about them. Keep leaving and keep removing yourself from
trigger points. WE see them a mile away. Walk away and build yourself. Develop.
I wish I had someone who knew about this when I was young to talk with.
But that’s now how shit works,. is it. We know this. We know a lot of things we shouldn’t.

And we also know it’s not just words that trigger. It’s places. It’s being in a room that
once housed your nightmares. It’s people, places, things, smells. It’s so complex it may
feel as though it’s impossible to separate yourself from them, but it’s not. It is possible.
You’ve made it this far and you’ll make it to where I am. It’s worth the journey. Start by
listening to yourself. When someone tells you that you don’t know everything, tell them you do. It’s likely you’ve intimidated them. That’s on them. In my opinion you are different in all the ways that make different amazing. You will see life in such clarity that it will be difficult to connect with others. At times. This too will pass. You’ll find who you were meant to be with, and around, and then watch how incredibly fullfilling life can be.

I’m much like you. So maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Be well. Be True.

Matt

Odd Walking Thoughts

And mud walks on. We smear our hands to feel. Isn’t it nice to know. He tilts the bottle one more time until empty. When I tell an addict they’ll be OK they say, “I know.” We walk toward death with an even pace. I ask, “Does it bother you much?”

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts-

People are fucking weak. Yet they love telling anyone who’ll listen how to live.
Ask them what they wore two days ago and they’ll talk about how they
plan on painting their walls, because they know it’s time to paint, but don’t bother
asking why the mold grew without cancellation. Fuck their mold and their societal illness. At morning’s age I knew this wasn’t good, but had no claws. And now that later is, I’ll tell what needs to be told. Even if it takes tears and smashed bowls on walls with hatred in my eyes.

-M. Taggart

Poem-

Sometimes memories are like metal fans.
With each blade sharpened-
They aren’t beckoning you
They are pushing you away-
When you reach for them
You are cut, again-
Leaving you reeling
Running from closet to bedsheets
to where you no longer
own your memories

-M. Taggart