The Little Boy Who Sits in the Corner
By Lenny Hayes
The Little Boy Who Sits in the CornerThe little boy sits in the corner with his head between his legs.
He looks up with no face, messed up hair, and tattered clothes. The little boy is scared, and feeling hopeless and helpless.
He asks “why?”
He wants to scream, yell, and be heard, to be listened to, to have someone witness. The ones who are to be his protectors are the one who are hurting him.
How does he tell them to stop?
How can he yell for help when he’s being told to keep quiet? Instead they yell at him, “Shut up or I will hurt you even more!”
I am a boy who wants and needs to play, with no worries. I am a boy who is supposed to ride a bike. I am a boy who is supposed to laugh and giggle. I am a boy who is supposed to enjoy the sun beating down on my face. I am a boy who is supposed to play in the mud. I am a boy who is supposed to dream
But instead I am a boy who is scared even to go to sleep because I am afraid. I might wet the bed and if I wet the bed I will be beat, again and again. The little boy is victimized almost daily with physical, mental, emotional, and sexual abuse.
He’s in a corner being touched and groped.
How does he say “stop?”
He closes his eyes, and tears begin to flow.
I go to a faraway place in my mind… a safe place, a happy place, a place where I don’t have to feel what my body is experiencing. Many times when he’s being victimized over and over, He looks down from the ceiling, and sees his body being taken advantage of.
I say to myself,” Poor little boy, it will soon be over.”
After it’s over, he’s lifeless, and begins to come back to his body once again. One day, I saw the little boy that suffered and still suffers, I stretched out my hand, and reached out to that little boy. He looked up at me, sideways at first, as if seeing a bright light that was too much to take in.
He reaches back to me; I give him my healing hand.
He gives me his pained heart.
Together we walked, talked, healed – well, are healing… On our path towards being a whole person.
The journey of healing is not all happy excitement and joy. The path of healing was, and is, painful, very painful, But with help I made it through. I am no longer a victim, I am a survivor!
I am a survivor of physical, emotional, mental, and sexual abuse.
Surviving doesn’t just mean that I am acknowledging it, It also means I am choosing to grow, learn, and move forward. Surviving
means I know my triggers. Surviving means asking for help when I need it. Surviving doesn’t take away what has happened to me but it does mean when I am ready I learn to forgive my perpetrators.
Most of all, surviving means joyfully acknowledging my little boy when he comes out to play.
Surviving means talking to my little boy and saying, “I am here and I see you! You will be OK, little boy, and it’s my turn to take care of you
