Introducing Bronisms … a new direction for my recovery.

Content warning: trauma, mental health, abuse, anger …

While I’ve been writing for decades, over the past 5 years writing poetry has been a huge part of my recovery from a complete breakdown. I’ve been quite frank and open about this.

As such the poetry that I write is often dark, sometimes brutal and bloody – although I can, and do, write about rainbows and lollipops too. The brutal and bloody is cathartic.

I don’t write this darker stuff under one of my pen names, because part of my recovery involves finding my voice, reclaiming the narrative, and facing my ghosts head on.

The darker stuff isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I get that. A lot of people want their poetry to be light, whimsical, and skipping lightly across a field of flowers … and I am working on a story which is exactly like this … and that’s absolutely fine.

I write my poetry primarily because I need to … a lot of what I write, or create, comes from an overwhelming hunger, and I rarely ignore that need these days; it’s not worth the cold shoulder from my muses.

I share my words to entertain, to open people’s eyes, and to reach out to those that need a lifeline – to those people cowering in the corner, licking their wounds, and wondering if today is the day that it all becomes to much.

After pushing myself to complete more of the poetry in my files last year, I found that I couldn’t feel the hunger as much. So I turned to other creative outlets, and satisfied those cravings.

But lately I’ve been feeling a burning rage. I’ve reached a stage in my recovering where it feels like I – metaphorically – want to set the world alight. I have faced so many demons, looked into the deepest shadows, held a mirror to myself and held myself accountable for my actions. I have slowly began to speak up, and own my story.

But it’s not enough. I have those core issues that are demanding that I pay attention to them, that I stop hiding from them. I want to shout my story. To face those that have hurt me. To rage at the world. To poke at the scabs and scars. And my writing, my art – it all allows me to do that, safely. And of course I have the experts there on hand as well.

So often we are told to forgive, forget, move on, be gracious. And there’s a time and place for that. But so many of us that are healing – from abuse, neglect, trauma – have those deeper, darker emotions that we have to deal with, of face having it eat us up.

As I get closer to the inner layers – and fuck knows how close I am – I find that the emotions that I have supressed for so long, won’t be supressed any longer, and swallowing them down is continuing to be harmful.

So I’m working on some new pieces. They aren’t exactly poems, they aren’t quotes or truisms, and they definitely are NOT rainbows and lollipops. Some people may find these pieces dark, brutal, and bloody. They are direct, and rough, and raw. They are not elegant. They are confronting. And they will probably make people uncomfortable.

In line with owning my story and healing from my past, I will not be using one of my pen names for these; which could lose me some readers, but it’s a risk that I’m willing to take.

I don’t know how many of these pieces – these Bronisms as I call them – that there’ll be, but I hoe even if they’re not your cup of tea, that you’ll still stick around – after all, poetry is not the only thing that I write.

Thank you to David for his help, and encouragement, with this first piece. The image features a pic by Jean-Paul Jandrain from Pixabay.