But for crying out loud, can’t she see
The pain and hurt inside of me
I only wanted her love and care
But all I got was judgment and despair
For crying out loud, I longed to be heard
But she dismissed me with a single word
I yearned for some comfort and support
But all I got was harsh retort
For crying out loud, I wanted to be free
From the constant criticism that suffocated me
I wished for understanding and empathy
But all I got was her cold apathy
For crying out loud, I just wanted to be seen
For who I am and now what she deemed
I longed for acceptance and validation
But all I got was her harsh condemnation
For crying out loud, I finally realized
That her words and actions were just disguised
Beneath the anger and the blame
She was the one who was truly in pain
For crying out loud, I found my voice
And I made the choice to break free and rejoice
I won’t let her define who I am
For I am worthy and I know I can
For crying out loud, I’ll no longer be
Trapped in her web of toxicity
I’ll rise above and find my peace
For crying out loud, I’ll finally release
For Crying out Loud was the original name of the book I wrote. Yes, I wrote a book. The book is about my life, as I remember and recall. That's this website. The stories from my book are all on here, just added poems, music, and other things to it.
For Crying out Loud is a statement my mother loves to use. When this flew out of her mouth, I knew I was about to get scolded, berated, made fun of, or something evil and abusive. Despite my brain constantly searching for what's going to happen, I could never guess it properly. For Crying out Loud could be used when we were driving and I had to go to the bathroom, and the tone was clear irritation and agitation for my needs. Here are some other examples, but not all, as the examples are limitless; tied my shoes with bunny shoes instead of how she wanted, dropped a plate and broke it, cut my sandwich the wrong way, cut onions or other vegetables the wrong way, put the container in the fridge in the incorrect spot, tripped over something, died my hair a color she didn't like, cried, laughed, was too loud, bed wasn't made right, cooked food the wrong way, didn't take out the garbage within 5 minutes, pants I bought that she didn't like or weren't cool, who I decided to call, need something from the store, asking a simple question, and those are just the little ones. While For Crying Out Loud (Name Kept Private) was used for every little thing, it was also used for things that "may" have been warranted. Her tone was nasty, whether big or small, but how she said it; let me know what sort of punishment to expect. Again, I never knew exactly what was going to happen despite my brain trying to figure it out, but I knew which sort of abuse was about to take place; light or heavy.
By now you may have noticed that most of my poems end with something positive. This is another way for me to parent myself. Telling myself things are going to be okay, and I'm going to get through it. That's just another part of my healing process. I do have to be my own parent, and unlearn everything I knew, including who I am, what I deserve, how to talk to myself and others, etc.
Comments