How bright and beautiful it made the blue sky.
My thoughts danced from feelings of warmth and safety
To how I might capture the bluebird and make him my friend.
Oh, daddy, you were so strong yet gentle.
My hero, I was your “little girl.”
In my young mind, there was nothing you could not do.
You always told me I was “daddy’s little girl.”
I wanted to be just like you.
As I began to grow up, the big age of nine
I was confused by remarks of my two siblings
That I was your favorite.
I thought they were just making it up.
I was just “daddy’s little girl.”
Being daddy’s little girl took a huge turn around the life.
Yes, turn around the life.
That’s the day you had me alone and told me we had
“A special secret.”
I had been sleeping on the sofa with pillow and blanket.
You knelt down by me and showed me your “private man part.”
I was taken off guard, frightened, pulled the blanket over my head.
You told me it was all right, our secret.
You said you needed me for this, all I had to do was touch it.
You took my hand and put it “there.”
You told me I was the one that would hold the family together because of our secret.
What confusion in my young mind. I had been given an awesome powerful job.
Holding the family together. What power.
But I had to do “things” that made me feel “dirty” to get this important job done.
I could not tell anyone “the secret” because the family would “fall apart and die.”
Never a time alone that I did not have to push your hand away from my body
Pretend I was asleep when you crept up to my bedroom in the middle of the night.
I hated it, you knew I hated it, but I had to keep the family together.
When I played with my friends, I wondered if they had to worry about going home
To be touched, poked, and stroked and made to touch and stroke. I felt dirty.
I knew more than a child should know. Coerced to watch “dirty movies” and look at “dirty magazines.”
Learning forms of contraception so that when I “became of age” I would not get “into trouble.”
I just wanted to play with my dolls and my friends and read my books.
But I had to hold the family together.
I hated you and I loved you. How can that be?
While you were “doing your thing” with my body
My mind took me to those far away safe places
Where the bluebirds were singing.
After time, I crumbled under the burden you placed on me
And was so incapable of carrying.
No one knew what was wrong with me
But I still couldn’t tell “the secret.”
When my confusion turned into psychosis
I convinced myself that I would go to hell if I didn’t tell.
I told the only other person that I knew would make it all right, mama.
She did nothing.
But, the family didn’t fall apart. I went through all that for nothing.
And I fell apart. A fourteen year old basketcase.
That’s when I told you, if you ever touch me again, I will tell everyone.
You never touched me again. Physically.
Mentally and emotionally I was touched by this “hell” twenty four seven.
I made poor choices. I tried to be good, but I did bad things.
Like there was two of me, the good girl and the bad girl.
You tainted me and damaged me.
After many years, experience, and wisdom, I chose to step beyond being your victim.
I am a survivor. The road to someplace called “normal” is rough, steep, and dangerous.
With the help of the Lord and supportive friends, I traveled that road.
Now, with my more aged green eyes, I look at the sunrise as I drive to work
And let its’ beauty fill my soul at the awesomeness of a God who created it.
And my thoughts dance back and forth between all the blessings of my life now.
I go into my office and prepare for my first patient.
After they tell me their “secret” and their story, I gaze deep into their soul past their eyes and I simply say,
And somehow, they know that I know. We connect. And their healing begins.
God is using what I thought was all in vain to help others travel that road to some kind
Bobbi Jo Craigmyle