The Scream

/ moragnoffke

There’s a child deep inside that was put down on some account. Do you have a silenced child within? Parent, teacher, uncle or aunt, schools and institutions wielding frantic power, not seeing nor hearing the child, not giving opportunities because supposedly children are to be seen but not heard and adults are all important. My inner child learnt to be quiet and stuff the feelings down inside me.  Did that happen to you?  

Here is the painting that I chose for the writing club, session 5 homework. There are four versions of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. If you click on this link you can see them. They are done in different mediums, such as pastel, tempura or oils.

I wrote a poem about my struggle of being able to identify my emotions. The primary reason for alexithymia, the inability to describe or identify ones emotions is autism, and is usually there from childhood but the secondary alexithymia can be triggered at any stage in life and one of the reasons (as in my case) is post traumatic stress disorder. There are times in life when I revert back to stuffing my feelings down because it seems safer or more polite to keep the peace but it does me grievous harm. 

The Scream.

Childlike primal scream.
Shshshs. Quiet. You’re too much. 
Just sit down, be good. 

You are the only 
child here, now behave yourself.  
Or else you bring shame.

Alexithymal
wave silences mind and form
Deer in the headlights

Behave! Look smart. Smile.
Don’t let me down; I need you
To impress the world.

But I am lonely. 
Shshsh. Is silence being good? 
 Anger erupts when you ask questions.
 Is silence the good way? What about if I become
 angry, will you embrace me the way I have to embrace you?
Who told me to stuff my feelings down and pretend? My culture?
I subverted. Found ways to speak my wordless emotions. 
I danced my pain and I painted my afflictions, 
I pounded the keyboard and I subverted 
underground. A river running deep
 and dark, mezzo piano, pianissimo, fortissimo, fortissimo, ff mp, p, ff. 
no swearing aloud but the keys resounded louder. 
My lips were pursed they were not smiling. 
If only I could scream. That’s not polite.
Alexithymia scream by Morag Noffke,Close up. Pastel on board.
Alexithymia scream by Morag Noffke,full size Pastel on board

I did my own expression of the chaos that renovation and building bring, calling it: Alexithymia Scream. 21/04/2025 Pastel on cardboard.

Emotional blindness comes from not being allowed to see and express the emotions and they just disappear underground. Tombstone rigidity doesn’t see the dead, only hides it underground. Sometimes
I wish I could scream.

Take care to express yourself,
lest your are not heard.
You have good ideas.

24 thoughts on “The Scream”

  3. I didn’t know there were several versions of “The Scream.” Very interesting. I didn’t know you had been repressed early in your life. Thank you for sharing with us. I have come a long way since my husband’s death in 2009.

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  4. A lovely poem and lovely artwork! Spot on! It’s always better to speak. Silence eats from within. Liked these lines-
    Don’t let me down; I need you
    To impress the world.

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    • Thank you for sharing your response. I am touched. I was going to write about something else emotionally easier but I was nudged in this direction. More honest than authentic. I love your statement ‘words are not enough.’ thank you again. With love, Morag x

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  8. What a lovely and powerful poem. It feels me less anxious as I thought that only me wish to scream sometime, of anger, of anguish, to make my words heard. You are always making me proud of your courage and talent. Making poetry from painting is reallly artistic. Congratulations!

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    • Thank you for your kind message and blessings. I appreciate it. I think with this time of Easter there are opportunities to reflect. There are possibilities through hope and choice, but yes, left unaddressed it is very sad 😢

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