I am Sarah Elizabeth, a contributing writer for this blog . This is a poem I wrote about a year ago capturing the nightmare that was high school for me. I was bullied incessantly throughout high school, with one of the worst experiences being picked up, put in a trash can and rolled down a hill while people outside laughed and insulted me. For years this fear has controlled me life, it’s caused me to lose friends, turn down invitations, and live a life full of avoidance and horror. I want to share it with all of you to help those of you who have been through something traumatic, and extend the hope that recovery is possible, you don’t have to live in fear. I tried for a long time to conquer this fear through my own strength and I will tell you that is simply does not work, and it never will. It was not until I let God have the situation and carry me through it that I finally started to have mastery over this event. Whatever the event was for you, bullying, rape, abuse, death of a loved one, or something else, give it to God, and let HIM carry you down the path of recovery.
You control every aspect of my life, make me step out of my way to avoid you,
running past you, looking the other way, wildly escaping from even the shadow of your figure.
You make me feel so small, so alone, so incredibly afraid.
The first time I met you we were entangled in a terrible dance, a horrible nightmare, a dangerous game. As we tumbled down together, crowds looked on, saying nothing, doing nothing, seeing everything.
As we reached the end, my tears were caught in your silent chasms, your metal ribs digging into my face; the scratches on your side matching the gashes on my arms drawing out every last drop of happiness.
As you returned to your home, serene and quiet on a hill, I returned to my prison.
Daily you caught shreds of paper, reaped in silent sorrow, filled with horrible lies.
Everyday, forced to walk past you I looked at what you hold.
You hold garbage.
Insults, lies, scribbled on parchment in the heat of anger, sent off with no thought of the receiver.
That is why you no longer contain me; you hold garbage.
I am not garbage.
I will come back, I will look at you, I will be near you, I see your shadow as the nightmare comes flooding back, hypnotized by panic.
But you will not win. You will no longer have control over me, my fear will be overtaken. Your figure cast as a shadow on an empty sidewalk just a figure, no longer a fear.
