Boundaries

In childhood sexual abuse, boundaries are not only trampled on, but ground into the earth, over and over, again…

Boundaries . . .

The attraction is there.

I feel it in my battered soul,

And long suffering, abused heart.

It is actually palatable to me,

An aura of trust, compassion and kindness.

All qualities I admire, need, desire,

At this tumultuous time in my life.

Intelligence and empathy equally so craved.

Without these qualities, I’d be out of there.

In a flash. No looking back,

Closing up the wall behind me.

Why is it then wrong to want to be friends?

I don’t understand.

I mean the timing maybe be wrong,

But is it forever?

Is it because of who you all are

Or more likely who I am, damaged, and needy

That future friendships are an impossibility?

Or, is it a matter of my addled brain,

Confusing the signals,

Not knowing the boundaries,

Or understanding the job,

Confusing pity with concern

Left on my own to wander

Lost and alone once again . . .

 

ೋღ❤ღೋ

 

August 13, 2013

 

Reviews

[Gray Witch]

My abuser asked things of me that violated the most basic of boundaries, and that became what was “normal”. My model for relating with church folk now is – an inappropriate intimacy - which is why I find the boundaries so blurred...