Korinna McRobert

Feeling weird

The walls are farting, literally. There is a plumbing problem in the building. There seems to be air going through the pipes. Both me and my partner feel a bit out of sorts. I felt pregnant these past few days. We both had a bit of nausea. I had light-headedness and food cravings. I am not pregnant but still feeling like something is happening in me, while simultaneously something is being released.

I have come to conclude that this may have something to do with my previous post. Reflecting on it, I feel better. I feel lighter. I also feel like nothing has been shaken or destroyed, as I had expected it to. A very disempowering thought, established in childhood, where if I told on the hand that fed me I would starve. I feed me now. It finally got embedded in my emotional psyche. I feel free but never thought it would take this much getting used to. I am in a kind of disbelief. I can’t believe the world didn’t end.

I in no way wanted it to seem like an accusation and I did not want it to be a confrontation towards the abusers. I just wanted to set myself free. It is open information, a true story, which needed to be shared and shed. I need to move on with my life and find what that is.

So far, it is in sunny Berlin, in a lovely light flat, with a special person. Anything could happen now.

Out with it

Out with it

I feel like I need to get it out

I feel like I need to rid myself of what has been propelling me and holding me back

I have reached a place of safety

All my life was dedicated to getting me out of my domestic hell

The hell that followed me around

Still does

I am split between celebrating my freedom and the sheer exhaustion of my long run

My entire life was informed by the fact that

For the first ten years of my life

My father sexually abused me

My mother passively watched on

I was so socially retarded

I got bullied or ignored in school

I attracted weirdoes all throughout my adolescence

I got raped in my last year of it

I had such a fire to get out



Six years of psychotherapy

Three years of practising art

One year of a healthy partnership

I feel so happy and so empty

I have no motivation

My heart is an empty warehouse space

I have thrown all the broken furniture out

I have cleaned the mould

Nothing is killing me anymore

And I am resourceless

I don’t have the means to go shopping to fill my space

It will be minimal for a long time

I miss Cyprus

I wish my parents didn’t exist

I wish I didn’t have to deal with all their destructive weaknesses all my life

I wish I didn’t feel obliged to protect their careers and relationships


I want to talk about this

I want to expose incest

I want the taboo to stop existing

I want survivors to feel empowered

There is a space for expression

They were wrong

They should be held accountable and responsible

Individuals and nations do horrible things

They make it even more horrible if they never own up to it or resolve it

I am not going to rot with them

I don’t want a dialogue

I don’t want an apology

I want nothing from them

It feels like spring

It smells fresh

I feel young

I miss Cyprus

I wouldn’t go as far as saying home because that doesn’t exist geographically to me

Home is in me

Wherever I go

It goes with me


A few flickers of creativity tune in and out

I want to build a room

Missing a wall

Where I sit bare in the centre

And people walk around me and my relics

I want to revisit my childhood crime scene

I want to put my clues out

I want to air the dirty laundry

I want to draw it all away