Lost Girls

Dedicated to all of the women lost to eating disorders, trauma, and depression. 

Lost Girls

We will always wait for you

arms outstretched

fingers reaching

wanting, hoping

the air pulsating, 
throbbing 

our hearts heavy

Plum, orchid, periwinkle

waiting, dripping, bleeding

Unable to lift the weight of your head

away from your neck

Your chin rests against your heart

steady thrumming

like a kitten

you purr

Humming breath
your pulse racing ahead of your words

Breathe, Breathe,

please, breathe

Flashes of you ...
laughing, smiling,

pleading, crying

We are here now 
to keep you safe

our bodies filled with your voice

we will speak...

                                                                      

Angela Minard 2014©

Out Loud

I often have flashbacks and dreams about the sick details of being raped, but I can hardly ever say those details out loud. I have told my therapist some things, but up until now, I never knew that I had also told my mother, and that when I told her, it was out of anger. Anger is a difficult emotion for me to be honest about, and I tend to shove it down as deep as I can get it. My mom said that it was before I went into treatment for the eating disorder, which means it would have been about four years ago. At that point, I had not told my therapist much of anything other than it had happened. I was in a dissociative state when I told her and I don't remember it at all. I haven't talked to my husband about it yet, but she said that he was there, and that later when she came back downstairs, I was sitting in his lap, crying. That tells me that I was back inside the mind of an eleven year old girl. I don't like to think that I'm angry with her about it. As I child, I don't remember blaming her, but on a deeper level, if I'm honest about it, there is anger, it is just hard for me to access. Hiding behind the dissociation, I could safely express it, and so that is what I did. Hurting someone intentionally doesn't feel very good, even if I didn't know what I was doing. It is definitely something that I will be discussing with my therapist tomorrow. I'm not quite sure it is something that I'm able to wrap my mind around. I guess there is a part of me that felt it was important for her to know. I think that it may be important for me to be able to hear myself say those same words out loud.

Never

“In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement.” ~ Aldous Huxley

There is deep within, a depth of despair that I cannot seem to find the words for… that I seem unable, or maybe it is unwilling to express. In desperation, I reach into my own silence, and I’m drowning inside. I tell myself that no one understands how empty and stolen I feel, as if my soul has been ripped away, and can never be repaired. Never is such a child’s word. Never is eternity, an endless chasm in which I’ve fallen. I don’t remember asking you to promise that you would never leave. “Never ever,” I said, like a little girl, but promises are also for children, and you can’t, you reply. I’m embarrassed by your memory, because mine skips time when I’m afraid. I thought that I was reaching out, but really, all that I’m asking is for you to give up…to let me go.

Journal 2800 Continued...

"The 1000 Journals Project is an ongoing collaborative experiment attempting to follow 1000 journals throughout their travels. The goal is to provide a method for interaction and shared creativity among friends and strangers. Those who find the journals add something to them. A story, drawing, photograph, anything really. Then they pass the journal along, to a friend or stranger, and the adventure continues." For more information about the book or documentary, go to http://1000journals.com/

I started a journal for survivors of sexual abuse to share their story, poetry, and artwork. Here is the cover and scanned pages from Jessieh Speaks, a seventeen year old sexual abuse survivor who is wise and gifted beyond her years.

~The cover of Journal 2800~

Jessieh's journal pages

All-American Girl

All-American Girl

I read about her
silent perfection
in the library
at lunchtime
Filled with
laughing girls
The crude
language
of boys

Behind
opened books
a dark mind
She, who has
everything
held
in her
pristinely
manicured
fingers
that tremble
with
jumbled colors
bouncing
in the palm
of her hand

Because
all she can
ever hear
is Fur Elise
ringing
in her ears

Angela Minard 2008

I'll Never Tell

This is for Jenny at artconstellation

It doesn't matter
if they say,
"Do not tell."

It is our hearts...
Pieces of our soul
that give warning.

I'll Never Tell

The pressure
of fingers
Their hands
around my throat

You tell
and we'll kill you
"You liked it
you know"

I hear
their voices
from deep
Deep inside
my head

I smell them
all over me
Stinging fear
salty tears

I feel their rage
Urgent
and angry
Warm breath
Whispered hate

I want them
off of me
Their blackness
surrounding me

Oh, I'm disgusting
So disgusting
Did I tell them?
"You liked it
you know"

I'll
never
tell

~Today is Angela Shelton Day~Report IT!

~Today is Angela Shelton Day~ Report IT!
We will all Report IT on the same day.

The Report IT Campaign is a nationwide state-to-state rally to report sexual violence and abuse on the same day! It was created to raise awareness on the vast under-reporting of sexual assault including rape, incest, and abuse.

~April 29, 2008~ hailed Angela Shelton Day.
People nationwide will show up at their local county courthouses on April 29th! Together we will break the silence and the cycle! You can fill out the online form anytime on or before April 29th.
This IS NOT an official police report!
Thank you for Reporting IT!
Share where you'll be Reporting IT on Upcoming Events!
Need to talk to someone?
Free, confidential - 800-656-HOPE
History of the Report IT campaign

In Angela Shelton’s award-winning documentary “Searching for Angela Shelton”, she surveyed women in the US with her same name. As she began interviewing other Angela Sheltons, she found that 70% had been victims of rape, childhood sexual assault and/or domestic violence.

Shelton’s latest endeavor is a book, Finding Angela Shelton, which is in stores now, through the Meredith Publishing Company. The book tells about how Angela was faced with her past, how she dealt with it and coped, and how she healed.

Conversations With Claudia/ How Writing Has Saved Me

I started a blog on myspace almost a year ago, titled Conversations With Claudia, and this was my first post.


Who is Claudia? She is not my friend, but she has been a part of my life for a very long time. She is the voice of my eating disorder. A voice that over time, has crowded out my own thoughts and beliefs. I'm hoping that someday I will leave her behind.
I have an amazing therapist and also a nutritionist who thought it would be a good idea to give my eating disorder a seperate identity from myself. It would be a way to delineate between my own voice and the voice of the eating disorder. I'm finally beginning to see how often Claudia talks to me. She is bossy, demanding, snide, snotty, and degrading. She is also the one with the control most of the time, but I know that needs to change if I am to survive.
I remember the first time she spoke to me. I was seven years old, sitting in church, and looking down at my thighs as I sat in the pew. "Your legs are so fat,"! She said.
Why did she choose that moment to begin her torment? I'm not really sure. My mom, grandma, and two aunts were constantly dieting and discussing their weight. I'm sure that their conversations wormed their way into what I began to also believe about myself.
Being raped at the age of eleven was the real beginning of my self loathing and hatred. A secret that I held inside, suffocating my voice, and letting the shame eat me alive. Puberty began soon after, and with it, the ultimate betrayal of my own body.
I'm hoping that writing down some of the conversations that I have with Claudia will help me to find my own voice, and hopefully, someday, my voice will be louder than hers.


It feels wonderful to read this again, just to see how far I have come. Is my voice louder than the voice of Claudia's? Yes, I think it is, and damn, it feels good! I believe that the writing saved me. I began writing blogs, writing poetry, writing in my journal, writing my thoughts in e-mails to my therapist. I couldn't seem to stop writing, and more than that, I felt such a strong desire to share what I had written. First with my therapist, who encouraged me with compliments on the poetry that I would share with her. I created a website with my poems, www.poetrypoem.com/4angel , and then I started blogging; Sharing with strangers about things that I had kept secret for most of my life. Through writing, I found the freedom to unlock the silence, and begin the process of healing.

A Leap Of Faith

Another early morning, and the battle between my mind and my body begins. Again. I have every intention of giving up some of the behaviors that just fuel my downward spiral. I am too ashamed to even say what those behaviors are, and I'm definitely not proud of the things that I have done in order to hide from myself.

I spent almost my entire life with the secret shame of being raped. When I let go of that secret, I almost felt as if I were mourning the loss of something that I held very dear. I felt so exposed that I began to find other secrets that I could keep. A way to keep something for just myself, and a way to distance myself from the very people that I trusted enough to tell. Who will be there to catch me when I fall? I want to believe and trust that I won't be abandoned, but I haven't been able to take that leap of faith. The secrets must end if I am to survive, and I do believe that I can let go of them.

I am going to be honest in saying that right now I am actively restricting my food intake, and I just don't feel safe in letting go of that. I did promise my nutritionist that if I couldn't get back on track in a few days, then I would reach out for more help and support. I'm not even sure what that would be at this point, so I will have to figure that out. I just want to try to find my way back on my own first.

Silence

I feel my own breath being smothered.
My voice silenced as if I were the child
that I can't seem to leave behind.
I can't leave her behind.

Choose the Light

My name is Angela.

I was raped

by two men

when I was eleven years old.

It was brutal

and ugly and

I kept it hidden

from everyone

but myself

for twenty nine years.

I have finally found my voice.

I'm trying to use it!