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This
section of pages - you have chosen to enter - contains my personal
healing journey. I'm a survivor and publisher, and, while I may
offer emotional and moral support to others who are also endeavoring
to heal wounds resulting from abuse/trauma, I don't provide peer
counseling either on the Internet or Offline. I think that my
possibly doing one or both would be over-stepping boundaries
and think it would be way out of line.
As with many people on the
Net, I think E-mail works well for dropping others a note from
time-to-time. Incoming mail is welcome, yet it may take some
time for a reply. These pages represent steps in my efforts to
heal, which is a process (and, as such, is ongoing). I'm no different
from most survivors: It's sometimes a struggle to muster the
energy to do as much as get out of bed; I get overwhelmed at
times; I feel depression; and, I periodically have to remind
myself to slow down a bit or life and a chronic condition (arthritis)
have ways of letting me know that I've reached a point when the
choice is temporarily out of my control and everything comes
to a standstill for a while.
The past 1.5 years - summer
1996 to 1998 - have been the most trying in recent years; hurry-up-and-wait
types of situations that also depend on others providing insight
and finding resolutions. I had taken a lengthy hiatus from working
because of exhaustion and stress, and a decline in my health.
Launching this section of pages is a transitional period - resuming
my work and, more important, my life. (April 14, 1998, I was
diagnosed by a licensed professional in the therapeutic community
- an M.D. - as having chronic post-traumatic stress and depression.
The diagnoses, following a medical evaluation, didn't come as
a suprise; the outcome is consistent with others' professional
opinions. And... I am receiving quality emotional health and
medical treatment, and making adjustments to live a meaningful
and productive life.)
I'm a strong believer in
individual responsibility and yet my preference is to also remind
everyone that web pages shared by survivors and others may be
fairly heavy and could be upsetting to some people.
To the best of my knowledge,
this page and similar ones that present copyrighted prose, articles,
reviews, columns... that have been previously published, with
my byline, do not link from web pages that children are most
apt to visit. While the content isn't gratuitous or overtly graphic,
the recurring themes are abuse and healing. If either or both
topics are foreign to you or may inspire you to experience discomfort,
please leave the page(s) and return to one you may have bookmarked
as a favorite or you may search for a different page to visit
Online.
Visitors are strongly advised
to leave this (and like pages) in the event the content presented
stimulates intense thoughts or feelings that seem intrusive,
upsetting, and/or overwhelming. Visitors are also encouraged
to seek professional help from a reputable, licensed therapist
or agency for in-depth emotional support and assistance if content
presented on web pages evokes traumatic memories, feelings and/or
intense emotions. Each visitor is responsible for seeking the
assistance of a professional therapist to address and understand
personal and emotional concerns and to learn of helpful and healthful
ways to cope emotionally/behaviorally.
Welcome to my journey,
Anne M. Cox
 Heart-to-Heart
The
Dance
Help
Make Hate Homeless
Stained Glass
By Anne M. Cox
Copyright ©1993
Published Sept.-Oct. 1994 Mississippi Voices for Children
& Youth, Vol. 9, No. 5, p. 17
i'm telling You my solemn vow
as i step on every crack;
i'm praying. now!
break my mother's back,
please, God. it's not nice of me to ask
You listening? so sorry i forgot
but i'll never ask for another thing.
see, i'm on my knees. gotta try again
'cause dad has needs;
a nasty dragon; i don't like to meet.
already seen dad's magic act,
but it's a secret
the dragon hides till it gets real mad
and i gotta take sides;
"kill the dragon!" dad
pulls it from his pants.
i know; it's a sin
but give me one more chance.
dad's dragon breathes fire and fear;
i don't need him.
saltwater tears stain my soul;
i'm almost seven.
i'm so tired and old
and i'll never get close to heaven.
i'm full of holes. i'm real bad.
i'm not very religious.
i'm not like dad
praying "sweet Jesus"
while giving the finger
and puff! the dragon disappears.
sure hope You can hear me
no one else does,
since they don't believe
the dragon appeared
when i was just six.
some souvenir,
only i wiped spit from my lips.
that dragon was here
from what i can tell
dad's sick; mom's cold;
my life's on loan
i'm afraid, hell,
my heart's turned to stone.
my debt marked "paid"? i'm full!
can't we call it even?
don't You have some pull?
i don't know what to believe in,
except the union
between thief and liar; my parents;
a soldering iron.
|
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Ring Out!
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(and do!)
make a difference! |
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