I had none.

School, where children

bullied relentlessly

was an escape from home.

Church, which was

supposed to be a place

of sanctuary

and worship was instead

another battleground.

Home was a confusing

mess of lies

and emotional abuse

for years.

 

At home,

my grandparents

didn’t believe I was being

treated badly

on all fronts.

I was shouted at constantly

for doing things

that should’ve been

considered normal.

STOP THAT CRYING

I wanted my mommy.

You’re going to your

father’s.

I wanted my mommy.

 

“Daddy” was someone

I was sent to when

my grandparents wanted

a weekend to themselves.

I repressed my memories

of him,

but they came

flooding back

when I write.

And I have

to keep my head

down

to stop them.

 

My mother, I wouldn’t

see for months at a time.

My mommy took me to Starbucks

for hot chocolate.

My mommy took me doll

shopping.

What did you do with yours?

Nothing. I didn’t see her.

MOMLESS CRYBABY!

Momless crybaby!

 

School was a fucking

nightmare.

Classes were easy,

socializing was hard.

Everyday I sat beside

someone who made fun

of me.

Made fun of:

My lisp

My being over sensitive

Being friendsless

Being awkward

Being bisexual

 

Bisexuality is not a fucking choice!

 

Church made accusations.

You’re a sinner:

for being a child

for not fitting in

for having a talent

for having no talent

for caring for schoolwork

for being bullied

for being on the lowest rung

for being a girl

for being gay or bi

And you’re going to Hell.

 

My peers eventually

stopped bullying

me.

I guess a black

eye and split lip

is enough to

change minds.

The church kept

going.

My grandparents

noticed me getting

a mind of my own,

a sign of

growing up.

 

They cracked down.

Hard.

Eventually they gave

up forcing me to church.

 

I have a safe haven now.

 

It is not in my mind

or my heart.

Those still need

healing.

 

My safe haven

are two, strong

arms holding me tight,

belonging to the man

whose ring I wear;

My friends who

noticed my changes

and helped me accept them;

Hollins University where

the grass grows green,

the teachers like Charlotte

Matthews and Lawrence

Wayne Markert are these

epic, supporting people, and

where the new friends I’ve

made—like Patty, Lauren, Lucretia,

and Shoshana—know

how to love like sisters.

 

I have found my safe haven

and I hope I can be one

for my baby.