Trauma, Tears & Triumph

By Salty

You pull me in. I resist.
I run away but want to crumble.
Your eyes: only one glance, one look, hits me like a tidal wave.
I can’t breathe. I’m plunging. Rescue me before I drown.
I hide but wish to be found only by you ...

Salty understands first-hand the devastating effects of trauma as well as the importance of showing ourselves compassion during these moments rather than placing unreasonable expectations on ourselves to “get over it” after a certain time period.

In a poetic story of love, loss, and lessons learned, Salty shares writings that lead others on a journey through the depths of the heart as she bravely confronted the emotions associated with unrequited love, self-doubt, and heartache, ultimately learning how to lift herself up and face the future with a new perspective. In poems and prose that speak to the universal human experience, Salty helps us all map a course through one of our most relatable struggles in life.

Trauma, Tears & Triumph shares poems and prose that lyrically chronicle a young woman’s powerful journey to and from the self as she struggled with and eventually healed from heartache and loss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781982228934

Salty

Salty is a student pursuing an education in the field of mental health and sexual education. She is passionate about using her experiences to set an example for others on how to love and respect themselves. Salty is a mental health advocate and sexual assault activist who volunteers for domestic violence shelters in her community. She currently lives in Sayville, New York.

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Copyright © 2019 Salty.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2892-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2891-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2893-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019905922

Balboa Press rev. date:  05/30/2019

Contents

Preface

Part 1 Trauma: The Love

Poison As Medicine

Cognitive Dissonance

Smoke in the Fog

The Start of it All

Walking On Water

Freight Train

O’Connor Hall

How I Truly Feel

January 28, 2016

Waiting Room

Stuck in Bed

Daring Greatly

East Meadow

Neuroses

February 4, 2016

Before the Call

Wrapped Around Your Finger

You Took My Brain

Give It Up

Sun and Rain

Treading Water

February 29, 2016

Walking for Miles

Destination: Nowhere

Lonely Nights

Panic Attacks in the Detergent Aisle

Will Mom Find This?

Just Another Tuesday

Alive but Not Living

Communications Class

Slicing Off My Limbs

Homesick

What It Feels Like to Be Assassinated

Mad Scientist

Flashbacks at Target

Death Wish

Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone?

Cycle of Violence: Stage 2

Lies I Tell Myself

Lies You Tell Me

Overdue

The First Time

If Only I’d Known, I’d Make All the Same Mistakes

Without You

Unhinged

Realizations

Can of Worms

Dysfunction Is My Middle Name

Dark Night of the Soul

Stages of Grief

If I Had a Dollar (for Every Time I Regressed)

Undated

Inevitable Disaster

Late Nights

Part 2 Tears: The Loss

Insomnia

Maddening

Untitled

Midnight

Dead to Me

August

Regurgitation

Split Mind

Wavering

Played

You (Don’t) Complete Me

Blessing and a Curse

Spectacular Mess

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Half Empty

Parasitic Relationships

Suck My Cockiness

Honor the Fallen

Three Months

Eleven Months, Twelve Days

You Promised

Head Under Water

What Doesn’t Kill You Gets You Medicated

Therapy Sessions

Petrified

Crying in the Shower

Embers

Unanswered Questions

The Lost Years

Dying to Survive

He’s Not You

She’s Not Me

Intermittent Reinforcement

Tidal Waves

Blindsided

He Touched Me

Love Addict

Third-Degree Burns

Tap Out

Happy Hour

The Look

Brandon

Jackass

DSM-V: 300.29

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Your Words Broke My Heart

The Woman in the Mirror

Basking In My Loneliness

You Love My Unlovability

Emotional Whiplash

If You Love Someone, Set Them Free

Abandoned Car in the Parking Lot

Let It Burn

Magic Tricks

Flooding

Five Stages of Grief—Bargaining

Part 3 Triumph: The Lesson

Unconditional Love

True Love Never Dies

When a Narcissist Meets an Empath

Remission to Recurrence

Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

One Day My Nonvolatile Price Will Come

Treat People the Way You’d Like to Be Treated

I Love You (to Death)

With or Without Me

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Getting Away with Murder

Grin and Bear It

The Honeymoon Period

Now All You Are Is a Legend

Trauma Bonding

A Tale of Two Friends

On Top of Me

Do It for Me

Sean

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

Happily Never After

You’re So Vain

Read Between the Lines

Silver Lining

Cutting Cords

A Word on Self-Worth

No Mercy

Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde

Skinned

Kintsukuroi

Complicated Grief

Thorns

Vultures

Dead of Winter

Diamond in the Rough

Imagine

Adam and Eve

Rock Bottom

Complex PTSD

Pile of Ashes

Save Me (from Myself)

Tombstone

Nice to Meet You

The Sky’s the Limit

Asteroids

Prescriptions

Up in Flames

The Sacred Ache

Sleep Paralysis

Unanswered Prayers

Esophageal Varices

Sheer Serendipity

Stars in My Eyes

Archery

Free Falling

One and Only

Riptide

Undefeated

Houdini

The Sun Will Rise

Unbroken

Black Widow

Svedka

Shell Shock

Violations

I Said No

A Poem I Wish I Didn’t Have to Write

Irony

Unfinished Business

The Sweetest Nectar

The Rebirth

Radioactive Contamination

Habituation

Clouded Judgment

The Power of Love

A. D.

Anorexic

When I Find You

Hedonistic Pretense

Osmosis

Victim to Victorious

Enmeshed

Anthologies

Fire and Ice

La Belle Indifference

To the Boys I’ve Loved

A Letter to the Next Guy I Fall For

My Pain Is Not in Vain

The Coldest Summer

Burning Bridges

Anima, Animus

Sapiosexual

Redeeming Grace

A. S.

Puzzled

Glass Coffin

Predators

Romeo and Juliet Remix

Miles Away

J. S.

A Good Man

T. D.

Love in Color

Heartbreak Is a Girl’s Best Friend

One-Night Stand

Cheek to Cheek

Reenactment

I Still Believe in Love

Afterword

For all who are hurting, hoping, and healing

Dedicated to to my father. I hope I make you proud. I love and miss you always.

Preface

I have been thinking of a perfect way to start this for quite some time. Ultimately, I figured there is no perfect way and the best way to begin is just to write. So, here we are. It’s funny because I wrote my afterword months ago, whereas this preface is the final piece I am writing. The journey from when I started writing/editing this work to when I finished it has been a long one. I didn’t realize how much time, energy, and hard work goes into writing a book. You see, the first entry started out as an excerpt from a journal entry written in my three-hour class. I had no intentions of creating a book until one day my counselor suggested I compile my poems into one.

This was very sloppy and like any other piece of art. It began as an idea. I was typing away in the library for hours a week because I felt desperately alone and like I had nobody to talk to. Those who were kind enough to listen either didn’t understand or didn’t seem to care.

Trauma, Tears, and Triumph is a story of love, loss, and lessons. I broke it up into three sections for the reader. Trauma: The Love is the start of it all. It is made up of work from the time when I was in an abusive relationship. Tears: The Loss includes poems written during the breakup period. Triumph: The Lesson details the time period from after leaving my partner to most recently.

This story isn’t for everyone, and it’s not the easiest read. I suggest practicing self-care before, during, and after as it may be triggering. This is not a perfect book with a perfect story and perfect ending. Nevertheless, the ending is a happy one because I decided to keep living. What I want people to know is that although the triumph period was my better year, it was not an easy, straight path. Recovery is a journey and an ongoing process. We need to allow ourselves room to mess up and make mistakes. It’s not like once we reach a certain destination, we have it all figured out. It took me almost losing my life, going back to my abuser, and having to fight the urge to return for me to learn my lesson. And I’m still a work in progress. There are days I feel incredibly strong, and there are others I feel just as weak as before.

I think society has this expectation that after making some poor choices, we either succeed or fail. That’s not exactly how life works. We are not all good or all bad. There will be days that are better or worse than others. It’s up to us to notice when we are operating from a place of fear and old wounds.

I know firsthand the devastating effects trauma can have on a person. I am still in the process of healing, and that’s okay. We must show ourselves compassion instead of placing unreasonable expectations on ourselves to be over it after a certain time period.

Rereading through my old journals was a tedious, painful process. There were points when I was ready to throw in the towel. It’s not worth it, I thought to myself, to relive these traumatic events. What I’ve come to realize is that I had to go through these horrible experiences to have my voice heard. I have a message I want to share with the world, an important story that needs to be spread. If I can help one person feel less alone, then all of the suffering would have been worth it.

At the end of the day, one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that we are our own worst enemies. Others may scar us, but it’s often our own resentment, guilt, and shame that keeps hurting us, not others. It is okay to forgive yourself now. It is okay to let it go. Take my hand; we will do it together.

Trigger warning: this book contains material related to sexual assault, eating disorders, self-harm, suicide, and abuse.

Part I

Trauma: The Love

Poison As Medicine

Told myself I’d never go back, but here I am again.

Knew from the start I would relapse. Still, I put up a facade to pretend

When we are together, my lungs get constricted. I try to forgo but am already addicted.

Because you are like heroin; I just cannot quit. Always on my mind; let me get a hit.

All it took was one time; a single ounce and I was hooked.

I’ve never been so high. You’re the best kind.

Now I’m dreading the plummet.

Don’t let me collapse. Hurry me to rehab.

Feeling so sick without my hit.

Because you are like heroin I don’t want to quit.

Plagued by temptation, itching to submit,

Striving to act placid around everyone else, yet going insane when by myself.

Detox me, stop me, or the end will be tragic. You are my favorite, most debilitating habit.

Preoccupied, obsessed, I have become dependent. Before it kicks in, it’d be best to just end it.

Get you out of my system. Let me be free. How can I remain nostalgic while you are so deadly?

I’ll use you, abuse you. I don’t want to feel—but it’s all in my mind, and I wish it were real.

Because you are my heroin, I’m unable to quit. I am so consumed by you that it is impractical for me to resist.

Proceed with caution if you’re going to start. The side effects are dangerous. They go straight to your heart.

Cognitive Dissonance

You pull me in. I resist.

I run away but want to crumble.

Your eyes: only one glance, one look, hits me like a tidal wave.

I can’t breathe. I’m plunging. Rescue me before I drown.

I hide but wish to be found only by you. What do you do?

Do you notice? You don’t even try. My mind shrieks no while my head’s in the sky.

Besides, it’s too late. You are my quicksand. What gives you this right?

I wish it weren’t so. Before we met, I was content alone,

Artificially safe. But you are a hazard.

I find myself smiling more than I should. Why does everything bad have to pay off so good?

I tiptoe on glass, trying not to bleed. You should come with a warning; still I’d follow your lead.

This high I am on, I could feel it forever. Yet you are a hurricane; I cannot predict the weather.

Your omnipresence, so bright that I cannot see. When you’re accustomed to hail, sun’s a foreign scene.

Caught in a double bind, perishing in fire. How can one trust when they, too, are a liar?

I’ll send you all the wrong ways so our nights never end.

You can’t provide a taste of heaven then not give it again.

Because hours pass like minutes whenever I’m with you,

While days impersonate eternity when you’re not in my view.

Please, I am a wreck. This cycle doesn’t stop.

I’ll be damned to add you to the list of crooks to be forgotten.

My face says that I don’t care, yet my soul cannot be restrained.

Not sure what you’d call it, love, lust, or insanity.

So I will just weep until I get an answer

And, in the meantime, convince myself it really doesn’t matter.

Smoke in the Fog

I am an open wound, bound to burst soon.

Trust me, you can’t believe me. He’s all I see before I drift to sleep.

A smoke in the fog, a haze, he makes it clear. His skin on mine. Watch as I disappear.

Take me away to a foreign place. I wear a mask but still fall from grace.

On a sinking ship, don’t panic, I’m drowning.

He’ll revive me from my ashes. My death wish he’s doubting.

Yet this discomfort—I’m frozen, too scared that if I surrender, he will not be there.

I want to honor his heart like he has impacted my soul.

Spare me the drudgery. Can he fill this hole?

I could look at him forever, not uttering a single thing.

He need not speak a word to compel my heart to sing.

‘Cause when daybreak rolls around and I am all alone,

I sketch the proof on my skin, abducted at a crossroad.

Evidence on my arms. It is a privilege that my heart aches for you. I feel vulnerable and raw.

Who knew reconciling with love would be this cruel?

The Start of it All

I’ve been thinking of you constantly. Not just today, but every day since the day I met you. From the moment I laid eyes on you I feel like I’ve been on this Ferris wheel of emotions. It freaks me out because when I’m with you, it’s like I’m on top of the world—invigorated, free, full of life. But moments like now, it seems that I’ve been stuck on the ground forever. I think I’m in love. Or falling in love. I’ve been trying to figure this out. Am I am, in fact, in love or just lusting after you? I’ve never felt like this before. My passionate new feelings cloud my judgment. These are emotions I’ve