The Doormat

I don't remember when it began. I was quite young. But I do remember the night that I knew I was on my own, that no one would protect me. I think I was six.

What happens to a child when they know that a monster is after them and wants to harm them and no one will help them. They try to hide but cannot. So they hide inside themselves.

I don't know when I began to do this. But trying to hide the pain and keeping the secret were all consuming. I began to feel like keeping the family happy was my responsibility. My burden. The threats that I receiving from stepdad also helped burden me with unbearable responsibility. "If you tell, then mom will be mad at me" or "She'll divorce me and it will be your fault" and the motherlode "I'll kill myself and everyone will be unhappy and it will be your fault." Much, much more than I could bear. Than I should have been made to bear for I was only a child.

So, I learned my place in my family. I was the doormat, my feelings, my reality, my entire being not worthy of mention and certainly not worthy of the family's attention. Meant to be used, abused and forgotten. And so it was...

The Doormat

Treads come undone,
No repair is made.
Torn, tattered and ignored.
Cleaned up superficially,
So to be seen by the world.
Outside presentable.
Bring no attention or disgrace.
Foundation not lain.
Empty inside.
No strength to protect,
But always there to be used.
Value unknown.
Not cared for by most,
Ignored by the rest.
Walked on, used, abused and
Thrown away.