All I Can Tell You

All I can tell you is

I was asleep in a vacuum

I believed there was nobility

In being able to take a punch

I thought it would all get better

That with practice, I could be in control

               

All I can tell you is

I was out of my mind with fear

I believed there was no other chance

                To be able to feed my kids

I thought it would all get better

That with practice, I could be in control

All I can tell you is

I was alone in a fight against all odds

I believed there was no other way to live

On the razor thin edge of sanity

I thought it would all get better

That with practice, I could be in control

All I can tell you is

I was a defender of hearts

I believed there was a way

                That my sacrifice would protect you

I thought it would all get better

That with practice, I could be in control

All I can tell you is

I was not able to get control

I believed that reason was out of reach

                That I deserved to die

I thought it would all get better

That with practice, I could be in control

All I can tell you is

You are not alone. And even though

You believe there is no other way

                You don’t have to live this way

Because it won’t get better

That even with practice, you can’t be in control of anyone else but YOU

~Victoria Stewart-Meyers

(C) Victoria Meyers 2016

                               

               

                

Own it

Stand in front of a mirror
Look at your face
Look at your body
Realize that body has endured
That face has seen it all

Look into your eyes
What do you see there?
There is sadness, yes
But there is more
Kindness, compassion...

You see wisdom and also pain
You see love
Touch that scar you see there
Run your finger over it
Remember how it got there

Your body has seen you through
Even when you abused it
When you let it go and ignored it
You treated it as if it was at fault
It's your body so own it

Your body is there for you always
It deserves your respect
You won't get another
Look into the mirror and say
I love you

You earned it.

~Victoria Stewart Meyers

This Isn't About Me

Today I was a witness to domestic violence
On my college campus
As I trudged up the hill to get a quick bite
After a tough class and before my next

When suddenly there was a shout and a bang, and a screech of tires
I tried to see into the car but the sun was in my eyes
And the cold weather had everyone buttoned up tight
In sweaters and jackets and hats                                                                            
I couldn't get a look at the guy
I did see the grim look of fear and embarrassment
In the eyes of the girl
As she bravely set her jaw and stood her ground under his threatening
Intimidation
His body actually arced over top of hers in the driver’s seat
As if he intended to climb right out the window over top of her
His clenched fist under her chin

Just as suddenly he jumped out of the passenger door
The door on my side 
As I stood and watched I tried to make eye contact with her
I could see her pretty brown hair
Her eyes were already brimming with the tears
She would try but would not be able to hold them back
Even as she drove away
Safe for now
She averted her gaze from me and I knew why

I thought to try again to see the guy
He was already pretty far away
I wanted to follow him, chase him down
I wanted to look him in his eyes and let him know that
I - will- take- him – on

But he was already halfway up the hill
I knew better and now they both were gone
I never even got a look at his face

All that was left was me
Standing in the cold sunshine
Of a now darkened day
Shaking in rage and helplessness
In hopelessness
Wishing I could chase down that girl
Wishing I could chase down that guy
Knowing I couldn't do either one

As I finally turned to walk to the student center
A tear slipped down my cheek
In frustration and mourning
The sidewalk filled with students again
Walking toward me and past
And as I looked into each one’s eyes
I saw no glimmer of recognition
Of what had taken place here today
And my heart broke

But this is not about me

Nobody has to be cool all the time.

Nobody has to be cool all the time.
Nobody has to be cool all the time, right?

I was dreaming when I wrote down this poem
I thought about the past and the fear
I thought about the pain and finality
I remembered the good times too
And the words did finally come

I remember that night when you took me dancing.
You drank too much and tried to act cool.
Hopped on your bike and fell down the hill.
You just laid there and I giggled.
Nobody has to be cool all the time.

I remember that time you threw me from a moving car.
But first you tried to break my neck.
I kicked and fought and managed to get the door open.
I just laid there and you stood over me.
Nobody was cool that time.

I was dreaming when I saw you walking down the street
With a whistle on your lips and the sun in your hair
And I believed you were beautiful and noble.
I offered you a ride and you were enjoying your walk so much
You declined and I thought that was wonderful.

I watched you in my rearview as I drove away.

I was wide awake when you drove away that day
I laid in the ditch in the mud and fall leaves
The sun still shining and a crisp bite in the air
It was a beautiful day to die
But I was not dead, I was still there

Day after day when I opened my eyes to find that
Goddamn it I'm still ALIVE
The pain won't stop and I just keep breathing.
Your hands around my throat
Hold your breath...


I was dreaming when I wrote down this poem
I thought about the past and the fear
I thought about the pain and finality
I remembered the good times too
And the words did finally come

Nobody has to be cool all the time.
Nobody has to be cool all the time, right?


Slam Poem

Giant Windows

When I think of you
It's always in a sun soaked
living room
with giant windows and
whitewashed walls
we're laughing and shouting
because we're working on a new song
We never had a living room like that
But we have written songs
Just like that
I think its my hope for the future
That I'm thinking of when I imagine that room
But I don't care if we live in a cave
If you'd just write with me again

Unconditional Love

I wanted to tell you
What I've learned about
Unconditional Love

Right from the start
I knew that he never had it
Not until he met me

For so many years
I loved that man
I begged him to see
I was giving him everything
He ever asked for
Ever dreamed of
Everything he always wanted
He couldn't see it

I thought - I knew
That we would get thru it
That any minute he would
He would open his eyes and see me
And it would all be worth
The pain, the tears
The bruises
We would both finally have
What we always wanted

I was willing to bear it all
To have unconditional love
And to give unconditional love

Eventually, it all fell apart
The choices weren't mine to make anymore
Still I knew - if I had faith
and I kept on loving
That one day it would all be worth it

What I didn't know was that one day
My baby girl would be 5 foot something
And she would stand and look me in the eye
and say
"I wish you would die"
I didn't know that she could never appreciate
The sacrifices I had made for her, for her brother
For her sisters

I didn't know three angels would
Shut the door to heaven from me
And open their mouths to drench me with
Retribution

I didn't know my firstborn
Would turn her hate on herself
I didn't know that I would be
Forever locked in the hell I made

Because I had loved unconditionally

In the end he never loved me.
Love is a verb you see
And the verb he held in his heart for me was hate
He hated me with his words, with his hands

H edidn't know how to love me
Or anyone else
And he never cared to learn

In the end it was never worth it
Not worth my pain, my tears
Not worth my bruises
Certainly never worth my babies

And these will never learn this lesson
Because I never taught it to them

And now I see her trying to love that way
My baby girl
Giving away too much of herself
To a boy who will never open his eyes and see her.
And she doesn't yet know
And you tell her but she doesn't care

It was never worth it
It will never be worth it

College Scholarship Essay 2015

It has taken me 45 years of living to finally figure out who I am. As a troubled teenager I had no dreams other than to leave my mother’s home. Teenage pregnancy and marriage at 17 achieved that goal. At that point all my own dreams had to take a back seat to motherhood, and surviving the situations brought on by my choices. Years of domestic abuse and self-abuse coupled with a car accident in 1995 have taken their toll on my body. Qualifying for disability in 2009 was the beginning of getting my life on track. Finally having a stable income and home allowed me the time I needed to get a handle on my health and my dreams.

As a mother of four girls and a boy with special needs, life has been especially difficult in my particular socio-economic status. As a thrice divorced mother, my choices have further complicated my situation. When I first attempted to return to school in 1999, colored with these choices and hampered by these circumstances I still did not know who I was as an individual. I majored in accounting because working in taxes was the first thing to which I had applied myself of any importance outside my family and I seemed to excel in my client relationships. Little did I know at the time that what I excelled in was not the love of numbers; but of helping people. During my time at Pulaski Technical College I excelled academically, and came to terms with myself as a writer for the first time.  My Professor; recognizing my talent, tried, unsuccessfully to get me to change my major to creative writing. But I was still going through so much abuse from my current husband at home, I felt that I needed to simply get training to make an income and that my personal dreams were not important. I didn’t have the time to waste on myself. I graduated with honors, Phi Theta Kappa but after graduation, my life finally spiraled completely out of control.

As my health deteriorated, and my family life nose-dived, I survived a complete mental breakdown and subsequent homelessness. I struggled to keep my children and lost half the battle. My dedication to God and my children were the only things I had to hang onto. When I went on Social Security and Section 8 my life finally began to level out and as the years progressed and my children grew I still followed their dreams, not mine. I spent a couple years as an autism advocate and was elected Vice President of the Arkansas chapter of the National Autism Association. My daughter became a singer-songwriter and as her co-songwriter and manager I finally began to dream dreams of my own. I discovered a talent for songwriting and music management and marketing that I had no idea about. When she left our partnership it devastated me to lose my daughter and best-friend but I found that the loss of the music was just as devastating. 

I have since written a book of poems based on my life as a survivor of domestic abuse, I have performed my poetry in front of audiences in Hot Springs with great success. I have also built a reputation in this town and a strong network of friends and colleagues as a music promoter, and I volunteer my time with several music festivals and galleries. I have been told that my help with website development, and social media marketing is unique and invaluable.  I want to continue to dream, to make my dreams come true and others as well. I plan to study the arts and add this to my prior business education to help other artists to realize their dreams. I envision one day opening an artist co-op here in Hot Springs to promote the arts and dreams among young and old alike.  The arts have opened up my world to possibilities I never imagined and I hope that many other people can be inspired as I have.

After 45 years I finally know who I am. I am a woman, a mother, a special needs-parent, an advocate, an activist, a dreamer, a poet, a song-writer, a social media coach, an artist and I am a survivor. 

The History of My Heart (Conclusion) by Victoria Meyers (28 of 30)

The history of my heart concludes with hope and longing for the future.

It doesn't really conclude because it still beats here in my chest.

Though it flutters from time to time, it shudders from the memories and the damages and ravages of time.

Still here it beats, inside a great black hole in my chest and the hollow thudding echoes in my bones and my steps.

This heart is weary but not worn out. Resting but not yet done. Perhaps it can find the strength to love another again? Not now, not soon, but maybe.

For now this heart is learning, to love me. Learning to uncover the truth in a memory and the harsh cold reality without breaking. I feed it with self loathing, and memories, and dreams purged from my guts and re-digested truths.

It trembles and quivers with pain and exhaustion. Yet still it beats.

Each new day the tide changes, the burden is lighter. I do not mean to forget the lost ones, who still are trailing my progress.

I will never let them fall further then I can see them, but they are too far to catch me soon.

The history of my heart cannot ever fully conclude alone.

It can end,

Yes; it can stop beating, though it doesn't., even as hard as I have tried to make it stop.

I've pounded at it and even tried to cut it out with a knife.

There it still beats inside that iron box, that great black hole.

My quivering damaged heart begins to glow with hope ever still.  

The History of My Heart (Part 4) by Victoria Meyers (27 of 30)

The history of my heart has a latest chapter. One of exquisite love and ultimate horror. It's name can only be called, pain. With death, and death, and new love and hope dashed. Wings spread and soaring heights of love that fall and fall and fall to a fiery burning depth. It was going to be the final victory and it became the final torment. The depths of the mothers torment and the wife's desire know only the rule of heart.

Salvation found and peace and joy cultivated for nothing and lost, maybe forever? The sins of the father, on the son are nothing compared to the sin of Eve on my child. On my heart. A wicked indulgence to be so bold, so crass. To question Jehovah, God, the only way to peace and the furthest fall from grace.

The heart that finally found the greatest love, that finally found the highest purest love and then lost it. The heart that finally found the most exquisite peace and the joy and loss, and loss and broken carnage of soul.

The heart polluted by the demon that came in so many forms, the trickster. The lover. The death. The pain.

A beach, some wine and sweet sweet promise of death yanked away. The fall of hope rising, and falling and rising and falling again. Like a Ferris Wheel ride. My heart could take no more of the dizzying heights and garish carnival lights, looking down on the crowds of soulless mournful ants and wind rushing through the iron spokes the roar of the wind, the hideous musical joyous ride of a lifetime.

Where does one go to find such pain? Arkansas. Florida. Anywhere it seems.

The history of my heart has not ended. The history of my heart continues to unfold. With sickening hope it blinks its moist eyes once again in the sunlight, in the morning mist. It hopes, it breathes it refuses once again to die.

Three deaths are visited upon this heart this life, pray it will not be four, pray it will be released. Pray it is forgiven. Pray. Pray . Pray.

Pray the vine grow forth from my fingertips, thru my pencil tips. Pray the vine with heart shaped leaves will spread its lush green healing over the girl in the chair. Pray the vine will carry the forgiveness of the light thru its lifeblood to overtake the pain, to overtake the life and soothe away the shame.

Pray the vine heals, the green love spreads far and wide and covers the earth with hushed softness and rainforest strength of the oldest and tallest and strongest.

Pray.

To Be Continued....

History of My Heart (Part 3) by Victoria Meyers (26 of 30)

The history of my heart moves on to tell of escape from hell, and landing in the fire. Of horror high school and sweet first love turned sour. Of blurs of keg parties, and punk rock glimmers. School parades, and dances, and secret whispers. Of epic breakdowns and adolescent psychiatric wards. Of pills, and razors and sex, and weed. Learning to drive and stealing cars. Of the contrast of ROTC and uniforms. Of trying to change and being slapped back into my place, of growing away instead of up.

Teenage pregnancy and teenage marriage to a man who should have been in jail for our love. A black love that followed the course of slum and slime that my life had become,  had been but I didn't know. I didn't know who else to be. Reactionary actions on the part of a contract-uary obligation.

To the day when I walked into the baby's room in the morning light and saw that shining smile. My first light in a life of hell. She said HI. And she smiled a smile that melted hearts of everyone. No one could resist that smile and suddenly the weights of the corners of my own mouth became less and a smile snuck out of even my own heart. 

But not to be outdone, the darkness returned in full force, as I lay on the floor in a bloody beaten haze and watched the cop at the door's eyes meet mine before I fainted and heard the words from his mouth, “she's just fine, nothing to worry about” and just before the blackness took over and shut out the light forever the cop tipped his hat and walked away – the door shut and there I still lay. 

The history of my heart experiences escape again so very far away, to an island of sun and rain and palm trees.  To life and love and death and sorrow. Broken marriages and disco lights. Giant bats soaring through the night. Waves crashing against the sea wall in C condition weather and me, climbing over that safety wall to sit on the giants jacks and dare and hope and wish that the crash would be my head dashed against the sand. Slime surfing and rock climbing and a girl who would die from falling off of the most beautiful waterfall in the world. And I would take her place. 

To a new chapter, of adult life, playing house and white lace curtains. Return to the real world of snow and loneliness and booze and isolation and running away. To a house in the middle of no where where I would almost lose my mind and my life to a piece of stew one day.  Then back again where the nightmare began, Arkansas and Air Force and Ramona. 

Yet running again, again again. Self loathing and play acting and finally is it real? This time purple flowers on a fan and trolls on a cake- the guests refuse to show to witness the marriage of the golden boy   returning from the Navy. 

Babies and babies, and Avon calling and Tupperware parties and whirling life catching up to me even while the little girl quakes inside. Five long years of southeast Connecticut, and snow, and October beach parties and fresh fresh leaves. Rats across the road form the nuclear submarines.  Pretend, pretend, pretend its all real, its all right, that you feel.

Until that day, the darkness is back again and once again- now she became we -and we all return again back and back to Arkansas. Cursed place of my origins and hopeful play on relatives who just don't seem to care. And that plane flew away and the cloud lifted and I smiled. I thought I was free but I went home and enslaved myself one more time. 

To Be Continued.....

Regret by Victoria Meyers (19 of 30)

Regret is ageless
I don't like to blame
I am accustomed to taking responsibility
For my part in my life
For the mistakes I've made
For the trouble I have courted
I do take responsibility
I made a huge mistake and I accepted you
I made allowances when you told me of your past
I put your mistakes in my own perspective
As if they were mine
How I would move forward if they were my own
I made the mistake of thinking others are like me
You are not absolved from blame
You did hurt me
Your children
You did those things in the face of love
You had everything a man could ask
Unconditional love
A second chance
A third chance
Uncountable chances
You had me, you had us
You are regret

~Regret  by Victoria Meyers

You should Write a Book by Victoria meyers (17 of 30)

You should write a book
I've heard that all my life
Start telling people how many
Places I've lived
How many stupid things I've done
All the different ways I should
Already be dead

Tell them about three abusive husbands
Raising five kids
Going back to school at 29
With five kids at home and a psycho husband
While homeschooling
And running a busy tax office

Talk about how 9/11 made me
Quit school to stay home with my kids
Describe unschooling
Cooking gluten free for picky eaters
All the many weird ways I live my life

Why would anyone want to read
About all that crap?

For Knowing You by Victoria Meyers (8 of 30)

I still remember how it felt
 To walk into a room on your arm
As a tall woman, I always hated
That my dates were slightly short
But with you it never mattered at all
Something about you was larger than life
I always felt safe and secure on your arm
 When we entered an event together
We felt tall together, regal
People felt it too and they gazed at us
With smiles of open admiration
If we danced or laughed, they joined us
We were awesome together - in public
 No wonder it confused me to be alone
At home wondering where you were
Praying that each next set of headlights
 Would bring you home safely
The hours spent praying and crying and praying
And in the end I wish, I wish - I wish
So early on it could have ended
I could have gone on- Our kids too and we would have all been fine
But it didn't end sooner and we
Are not fine - none of us
We are all the worse for knowing you

~For Knowing You by Victoria Meyers

Thirteen Years by Victoria Meyers (4 of 30)

I remember the day my mind cracked.
Funny because I don't remember things anymore.
But not like before when I thought I was losing it.
Not like the day you threw your wedding ring at me for the last time.
I knew it was the last time because I took that ring between my teeth and bit down till it was flat so you could never wear it again.
Not like that day, when I couldn't stand the crazy anymore, so I took your little guitar and I smashed it over the top of your wooden valet- and I kept on swinging till nothing was left of either one but splinters.
Not like that day when I wanted so much just to tell you how I feel, how I love and you answered me by coming at me with a chair raised high over my head and I ran away and jumped in my van to leave but then I saw your car there.
Before I knew it I had rammed the van into the back of your car so hard it pushed it up over the parking barrier and onto the sidewalk even with the emergency brake on.
It felt so good I backed up the van and rammed it again.
And then I backed up and rammed that damned car one more time before I left.
I made it several miles before all the water leaked out of that busted radiator when there I was left with no other choice on that freezing cold night but to call you to rescue me.
And after you put on a flat donut tire and limped out to find some air, you did come, and you even patched that radiator with a slice of soda can and super glue.
While ice formed on your hair and collar from the water dripping down in the frigid cold.
But with all that crazy that's not when my mind cracked.
Those times I was letting of some steam, but eventually I couldn't let off enough and my mind did crack.
Just like when you boil an egg too fast and long.
That was the day the two worlds I lived in collided with a sickening slushy scrunch.
When the life I didn't know I had became my new reality while the life I thought I was living suddenly disappeared.
That was the day the whispers started.
The memories of your voice whispering horrible truths to me while I slept.
I know it never happened- I guess it's a mother's guilt-over not knowing what I looked so carefully to see.
But still I remember hearing the whispers now-the whispers that you never spoke.
The words I still cannot tell.
I can't tell those words to anyone,
I don't want to tell them even to myself.
They linger there in the crack of my mind between a life lived and lost and another that was stolen from me and all of us.
Still sometimes I wonder if those whispers were real though I know they are not.
I remember not knowing and knowing and hearing and not hearing all at the same time.
I know it didn't happen.
You didn't take your demons with you when you left.
You left them here with me.
Thirteen Years - take your damned demons with you when you leave!
You've been gone thirteen years and still I want to make you leave.

~Thirteen Years by Victoria Meyers