Control me with eggshells


I’ve been abused.




And now I’ve said it aloud,

and now it can’t be undone.



It couldn’t have been undone even when I was silent.

It couldn’t have been undone because it happened.

Now that I’ve said it aloud,

what is undone is you.


I’ve undone the secret.

I’ve undone the shame.


I’m not going to be ashamed, because shame doesn’t help me.

Shame is not a force that carries me forward.

I am catching better currents now.

There is self-acceptance in these waves,

and I am going to ride them.

I’ll ride out this current of peace,

and honor that the person that I was needs me to believe her.


I won’t deny that you were an abuser.

In fury and fear you collected your power

and you held it over me,

a small child.

You taught me to fear you.

You taught me the pathways of compliance.

You taught me eggshells.


Your path was control.








I didn’t like that pattern.

I wanted to live without eggshells.


Found someone new.

Someone not like you.

but he’s trying to introduce me to eggshells.






This is a crazy-go-round, adulthood merry-go-round.

I’d like to know you, but I’m allergic to dizziness.

I’m allergic to abusive control.

I’m allergic to walking on eggshells.


‘But these eggshells are from different hens!’


I’d like to bypass them all the same.


Honestly, I see what you’re saying, I know

that there’s a person behind the control…

that you learned to do

from another abuser too.

And my someone new

is just flailing

in a lengthy freefall

through a world of dis-order.


This is why, this is why, this is why… … .


This is why there are eggshells.




That explains that, doesn’t it?


Does it also explain

why you expect me to walk on eggshells

when it’s misery for me?


Does it also justify

why I must live the eggshell life,

when it doesn’t even heal you?


I can walk in these well-worn pathways on my tip-toes,

but you will still be a controlling abuser.

If I hushed and was silent,

it would be no act of love.


YOU must be the one to deal with: the fear, the fury, the power, the control, and the eggshells.


I’ll deal with my allergy.


Recognizing control is how I walk towards maturity.

I’ve sharpened my vision

to quickly detect red flags of abuse

And I’m not sorry to have spotted you,

although you





I don’t care why.


Getting off the crazy-go-round has cost me personally.

You’ve got to find your own path to maturity.

It won’t be through controlling me.

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