Private Damns

I get nervous at times, a bit of a shake within, as I expose my soul.

Lately, I feel that a dam has burst inside my heart.

It's not fresh writing that I am making public. But rather journal entries, poetry, memoir, thoughts, streams of consciousness, snippets & bits from the past almost one year. Yes, most of it has to do with "the Knapp crap"...as I came to call it.

What has caused this bursting?

I am not sure, other than the cry of the human soul. There have been nudges that have come from a few people who have contacted me privately about their situations with Knapp. Those people will probably never come forward, and that's o.k.

Their situations were a bump in the road.

My situation was not a bump; it's been a suffocating valley strewn with hideous gasses. I'd come up for air, and just when I thought I'd moved above...another private contact hits my email, or Skype. Another reminder.

What is it that prompts the voice to state aloud?

What is it that causes a scream, or a song, or a burst of expression?

Why does there have to be some altruistic reason?

There doesn't.

I continue to bring forth these written-in-secret pieces. I'll do so until I decide not to. There are some pieces (and some parts of pieces) that will remain hidden, at least for now. There are some that are probably tucked in a couple handwritten notebooks and journals that I may not find until some later day.

Below are links to a few poems/briefs/prose which I wrote as I continued to process (and still continue to process) through an experience that for me has been emotionally, psychologically, and thus physically traumatic; ie: a client-therapist relationship that went awry, where "professional boundaries were crossed and then trampled," to quote someone who knows a bit about the situation. A situation in which the therapist, so very loud an 'advocate' regarding psychological, spiritual, verbal, and emotional abuse, turned about and wielded a blade exacting the same, with apparent disregard, slicing my very essence.

It almost silenced my voice.

Do I have compassion toward a soul that exacts harm? Yes, I do. People do things for reasons. And people also need to be accountable for their actions regardless of those reasons.

Do I have a goal in bringing these writings forward? Not to my conscious awareness, other than the dam is on over spill. What comes across the levees is simply here.

At this point, in my thoughts, what would be the best resolution to the situation? Open communication. But John Knapp cut off communication with me (as he has done with others) on August 2, 2010, and I didn't even understand why. I was totally confused, baffled, left with my heart nakedly pulsing in my hand, accused of things I had no idea that I had done.....because I had not done them. It was crazy-making.

There can be no restorative justice (however 'inconsequential' the harms) once communication is severed.

The voice is fed with breath. I never want to lose my breath again.

I've literally been there - to that place of no breath. It's pure-tee hell.
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Poetry/Prose/Brief links:

daggers - august 3, 2010
lost - august 3, 2010
accusatory blame - august 5, 2010
deja vu - august 10, 2010
embalm - september 12, 2010
voices - december 6, 2010
rabid - december 8, 2010
vapor pressure - december 16, 2010
fumes - may 3, 2011
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To access an ongoing index regarding my experiences with Knapp, click here and scroll down to the section entitled June 26, 2011.
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