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Writer's pictureNubia DuVall Wilson

Disclosure Trauma and Healing with Poetry



NightShades Published in Mag!

2024 has had some intense highs and lows, from family members passing to getting published. Some good news is a new poem I wrote about the cycle of trauma in my family called NightShades is featured in the magazine Spoken Black Girl, Issue 5. Please support the amazing Black writers featured in this issue themed on Motherhood by visiting the site and purchasing an edition. It will feed your soul! In addition, I am sharing a Haiku series I recently wrote after taking a poetry class for survivors of sexual assault (see below). Getting back into writing poetry has really helped my healing journey.


Disclosure Trauma

Curious what "disclosure trauma" is? It's a term to use when you have shared with those you trust (or even the public) something traumatic that happened to you and then it creates a backlash. Although I had the support of my mother when I shared one of my brothers abused me growing up, years later her attempts to disprove I was abused became apparent. The constant bullying and judgment was toxic. I have been re-traumatized multiple times by her because of this. My memories don't lie and when I disclosed my abuse, the first thing I said to her and my brother was, "Let's heal together." Then I realized, I need to just heal myself. Sometimes you have to walk away from family members who do not support your true north.


The chosen family I have now is so supportive and I wouldn't have it any other way. If you too have had repressed memories of sexual abuse come back to you years later, please watch this True Memories Campaign series that I contributed to in partnership with Incest AWARE, Mary Knight, Maria Socolof, 5 Waves and many others.



Books I am reading:

Radical Forgiveness by Colin Tipping



Haiku Dream Series  Feb 21 - March 17, 2024


Ghosts are missing teeth.

I’m told to go and see, but

I don’t trust the dark. 


The skeletons call 

to me. I enter their lair,

I fall and dissolve.


Deep within the woods,

a beating heart on stake writhes,

we flee, the car flies.


Old elevator, stuck, 

swaying my plans back and forth.

I have to break free.


Running from my genes–

recycled bad decisions 

flowing through my veins.


I jumped in a pool,

saw myself saving the girl

no one protected.


Thanks for reading and don't stop working towards your healing journey!


Xoxo,

Nubia

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