No Contact

One message Not even from her From her boyfriend. Well meaning, A lover trying to help her reconnect. The message derails my day Train crashes Into a pit of PTSD. He doesn’t understand He doesn’t know about the abuse. All the times she berated me, The shouting, the manipulation, the belittling. The unwillingness to accept my disability. The refusal to believe That her daughter can’t work, That the pain she witnessed daily Couldn’t be real. He didn’t see that. He doesn’t know. He only has her side. She doesn’t accept the word abuse. That can’t be what she did. It’s so different from what she suffered. She didn’t hurt me physically Except for the spankings, but that’s just how things were then. She didn’t know better. No, she used words Her weapon of choice Alongside emotion. She can’t help how she feels Anymore than I can. She doesn’t understand why The daughter she raised Who she housed for three years as an adult Wants nothing to do with her anymore. Poor her. While the daughter she raised in a cloud of toxicity In a broken home held together with scotch tape In an oppressive religion Screams into the void, “I don’t deserve this!” “I didn’t deserve this.” “I didn’t want this.” I tried to keep her around At a safe distance Arm’s length. But her words stab too deep. Her outbursts couldn’t be contained by boundaries She refused to acknowledge. Her needs always won out, Mine ignored. So I cut ties. Nothing else worked. And once the storm of her fury at rejection passed, There was stillness. The she tried to reach out Not understanding that “no contact” means none. Not the occasional text asking me to call Or the teary voicemail That she needs to hear my voice Needs to know I’m okay Needs to derail my life For her peace of mind. So I blocked her number And focused on healing me, Meeting the needs that were always less important Than hers. On fostering love, Love that believes me when I say, “I can’t” or “I hurt” I find equilibrium And she sends my sister. Tries to circumvent The walls I’ve had to place between us. I explain to my sister, and she understands. She won’t let Mom use her again. So Mom turns to him, A man I have never met. The texts begin. I don’t answer. I block his number. He finds me online. I block him again. How will she creep past my boundaries next? Will I ever have peace From the woman who birthed me And treats that fact like it means She’s owed my everything?