I actually haven't revisited those pages since the beginning of March... but today started to look at them again....
I grew up in such a dissociative state. I would be told by the psychiatrist at Carrier that I was one of the most dissociative people she had ever met. I wanted to write something that would maybe open the doors for others to begin to see some things from their own lives, to come to terms with some things and to begin to open their hearts and mouths about the things that have trampled upon their own lives...
Here are the first two chapters....
Chapter
One...
Exhaustion
saturated every fabric of her being she couldn't grasp a hold of
anything, not one thing. She had gotten into the crisp, cool,
orange, paisley sheets and slid down into them feeling herself slip
away.
These
feelings were all too common, not that she understood them, but they
lent themselves to her, filling her as if they were concrete, leaving
her suffocated.
The
window reverberated with the sounds of the falling rain splashing
back up against the glass, it echoed back with the wind blaring its
path through the branches of the tree planted right alongside the
frame. The darkness of the evening's storm was swirling around the
household. All, that gives off light during the passage of the
night hours, was covered by black ominous clouds.
The
small bedroom with wooden floors, and her white furniture... It was
her world. Her things filled drawers, closets, as well as a built in
shelving unit that ran along side the wall opposite from the doorway.
Her clothes neatly folded and perfectly put away, every sock having
a pair, every thing having a place where it belonged.
The
dolls from every nation her aunt and uncle had traveled to lined her
shelves. The mime dolls her father had brought her home from Paris
and the other places he had been joined them.
The
posters of mime's along with Escher prints covered her walls.
Only
the ones that couldn't be seen from the hallway though.
Nothing
was on the walls that could be seen from the hallways.
The
walls that could be seen from outside her room were perfect.
Perfectly
painted.
Perfectly
displayed.
Perfect.
Perfect
like the tightest hospital corners that always were fitted at the end
of her bed, where the sheets and the mattress met.
She
would allow her eyes to linger upon Escher's staircases.
They
were the closest visualization of her life.
Stairs
that led to nowhere.
Staircases
up.
Staircases
down.
Staircases
ending midair with no clear path.
There
was not any other picture in the whole world more perfect than that.
She
felt her breathing raise her chest and lower it, raise her chest and
lower it, raise her chest and lower it...
As
the pattern of breathing continued a trance like state enveloped her,
she felt herself lost in some sort of far away dazed condition.
Wondering
beyond anything what would happen if she just gave into this
sensation. Would she drift further and further away until she was
gone. Where would she be then? Where would she go? What would
happen to her?
Where
would she be if she drifted further and further away until she was
gone?
Until
she was untouchable. (She was sadly never untouchable.)
Until
she was maybe so comatose that there would be nothing really left to
her.
It
was beautiful in the most absurd way.
It
was as if she was floating yet as leadened down as deep wet concrete.
It
was like her head was empty yet full of concentrated thoughtlessness.
No
movement.
No
full breath.
Everything
shallow.
Hallow.
Jennifer
wondered if she laid there long enough would she disappear.
Even
if her body remained physically could she disappear so that she could
never get back. The heaviness upon her chest remained; in school or
out of school. She walked hallways and corridors blank, vacant, as a
vapor... nothingness filled her.
She
listened to the rain hitting the glass with such force, she listened
to the howling of the winds, she listened and she drifted into the
veiled darkness of the night.
Unyielding
pain filled every pore unless she lingered into that nothingness.
So to the nothingness she gravitated towards all the time.
She
was letting go...
She
could feel darkness surrounding her,
enveloping
her..
welcoming
her.
As
if the darkest of wardens stood beckoning for her to grab a hold of
his boney skeleton like hand, to travel with him far far away from
the realities of life, her life, all life. He stood commanding the
storm that raged outside her window, he stood commanding the storm
that raged within her, he stood beckoning, commanding, imprisoning.
She
was letting go of the fight to stay present, to stay conscious;
except time and time again right as she began to feel the empowering
place of mummification something wooed her away from departing fully.
Nothing
tangible. Nothing that felt as present as the dark warden but
something, something real even if she couldn't put her finger on it.
No
one actually ever walked in and sat upon her bed and gently touched
her flesh, no one ever called her name with joyous affection in their
tones, as they called out to her, no one was ever present, no one was
ever near, no one was ever around and yet...
And
yet, something wooed her back.
Something
stood in the way of her leaving.
It
was like a huge flat sheet of steel interrupted her spiral towards
oblivion, her journey towards grasping the hand of the warden of
darkness and death-shade. Something broke off the pull. Something
broke off the pull and she bounded back towards the current moment.
Shaken
and exhausted.
Jennifer
just laid in between the sheets.
They
were cool.
They
were inviting.
They
were always clean.
While
she was now back to being aware of her surroundings she wasn't fully
back.
Desperate.
Alone
and desperate.
Jennifer
turned her head into the pillow and just wept and wept and sobbed.
So
utterly alone.
Sure
there was a mother, father, cousin and grandmother... but she might
as well have lived on the streets.
Maybe
she would even have been better off.
She
thought of how five people could live in a house for so long and yet
basically just orbit around one another never fully connecting. She
thought about the perfect white walls and the unspotted white carpet
that laid throughout most of the house, this house, that to call home
would give it too much of a name.
It
had exacted more from her than she could truly give, certainly more
than she was ever able to say..... ever willing to say.
Jennifer
just laid upon her bed breathing ever so shallow.
Haunted
by the moments of terror and not even knowing what they all were.
Jennifer
got up and headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water upon her
face trying to shake away from the pits of despair. Weights and
chains bound her legs and feet and each step felt heavy and painful
to take.
Jennifer's
feet hit the small lime green carpet that laid right by her bedside,
her hands pushed her up off of the mattress, her legs walked her out
of her room and into the bathroom.
Light
cleared away the darkness that had so kept her when she flipped on
the switch. Jennifer turned the facet on placing her hands under the
cold water that automatically started pouring forth.
Jennifer's
eyes lifted to the mirror, to her reflection. What was she looking
for? What was she looking at? The light on, the water running, her
hands feeling the sensations of the cold liquid passing through her
fingers, her eyes beholding herself, her eyes going void as all the
sensations filled her senses to overload.
Instead
of going back to her bedroom she wandered into her grandmother's
where there was an extra television.
Jennifer
sat on her grandmother's bed. The bed spread was thin, she hated the
way the back side of it felt against the flesh of her foot, or her
body. She abhorred it. Something about the material just thoroughly
kept her bothered. The afghan that Faye had knitted was laying
perfectly folded at the end of the bed. Jennifer had never not known
the realities of this room.
The
old wood furniture, the bed frames, the pictures of a wedding that
hung over the bed, the mirrors... the two mirrors. Jennifer must have
spent hours looking into those mirrors. Jennifer spent hours looking
at all the pictures. There were pictures of relatives she had never
met, most were dead but some had just been lucky enough to put space
between themselves and Faye.
Her
grandmother's television was on and the show, Our House, was running
in the background as Jennifer watched herself again within a mirror.
“What
is so wrong with me?”
That
question lingered in the air, in Jennifer's heart, in Jennifer's
mind, within Jennifer's whole person all the time.
All
the time.
Jennifer
looked at her face, her hair, her eyes, her mouth.... Her dark dark
black hair, her plain brown eyes, her pale complexion, her freckles,
what attribute pushed her over the line that made her so completely
unacceptable.
She
wasn't beautiful but was she really that ugly?
Her
heart began to fail her as she pushed her body off of the bed,
heading towards the television to shut it off, the thoughts that
wouldn't release Jennifer's head and heart filled them again and
again, over and over with the question of what was so wrong with her.
She
couldn't keep things together.
She
couldn't function fully.
She
just went back and sat again in her bedroom, on her bed and cried
and cried and cried.
….................................................
Chapter Two...
The bus jolted Jennifer back to reality. The noise of chitter chatter filled the air, the noise of the vehicle itself filled her ears, the cushioned gray back of the seat in front of her caught her body as the jolt threw her up against it.
She had gotten lost in thoughts as they passed the section of road that had the woods off to the right. Jennifer leaned her head onto the cold glass pane, her head bumping along with the rhythmic shaking of the vehicle that was bringing her to school.
Her eyes looked at the woods off to the right.
Her thoughts drifted to Grizzly Adam's simplistic rural living. Her mind's natural process kicking into playacting scenarios in her head. This story line or that story line all infringing their weight and better reality upon her person.
Anything... anything would have to be better than the continual droning on of her life.
Head lost in the clouds or somewhere without earthly destinations or geography, Jennifer rode in silence, lost in her thoughts.. hidden from the world and realities all seemed to know but her. The bus finally pulled into the school's driveway and around the loop with the flag pole that blazed forth the American way. Red, White and Blue... all shining forth the dreams of better lives.
As if mechanically flowing with the day after day routine all got up, gathered their stuff, exited the yellow transport and headed in all various directions.
Jennifer lost in her head knew where her feet would take her, not really even dreading each step that would bring her further into her day, just not connecting with them either.
More of a puppet or life by proxy.
Step here.
Breathe.
Linger here.
Entering into the school. Jennifer looked up at the tiled mosaic that covered the ceiling and ran down both sides of the entrance way. A mural of happy children amidst a bright blue cloudless sky entering a place of learning just like what she was currently doing.
All their faces looked so happy, all their clothes so perfect, all wearing back packs and carrying lunch sacks, some of the boys had baseball caps on their heads, some of the girls had their hair pulled back in a pony tail or pig tails, but all of them... all of them looked happy.
Jennifer noticed the one tile off to the middle of the right side wall that had cracked. She noticed how the girl who had been painted at that spot had half of her face missing so that you couldn't see her, not fully.
Jennifer's eyes would always find that one spot.
That one tile amidst thousands of tiles that had a crack in it, that lacked paint and wasn't a full picture in one corner amidst an other wise perfect mural. That spot, Jennifer thought, that spot was her, a crack in an otherwise perfect picture.
Jennifer stood there just staring at the tile.
She started walking again.
Being passed by and passing by bodies pressing in here and there as all were making their way through doors towards hallways towards classrooms towards chairs and desks, towards the day.
This day would be broken up by an assembly.
Again the routine.
So well trained.
Pavlov's dogs in mass quantities.
Line up at the door.
Stand in line.
Be quiet.
Hands to sides.
Mouths were quiet and shut.
Hands were glued flat.
Legs walked bodies down the hallway into the gymnasium.
Class after class filtered in.
Child after child was told to sit down.
Legs crossed.
Mouths shut.
Hands to oneself.
Eyes forward.
Jennifer sat alongside classmates.
Names, faces.. nothing more... spending most of her day with these people year after year never making any real or true connection.
It felt so surreal to Jennifer as she played the role of obedient complacent child.
Somewhere deep within she mocked this charade. These people. She mocked yet hungered to enter into their reality all the same. Jennifer's mind drifted back to when attendance was being taken, names were being called out, voices declaring that they indeed were present, Jennifer wondered what would happen if she actually spoke up and said, “Heck no. Not present.”
Parents would be called, possibly. But would saying anything different change anything even if her parents were called?
Realizing the answer was most definitely not Jennifer answered, “present,” in response to her name being called. Maybe she was indeed invisible and if she didn't say she was present her teacher wouldn't see her, again would it matter. Would it matter at all?
Something nagged at her as outcast.
Something tore at her insides screaming she didn't belong.
She knew that all too well.
Even so her eyes searched the place for somewhere to land. Something to attach to that would make sense. Coming up to the surface of life instead of just peering through eye sockets, Jennifer was hungry for connection to whatever degree could touch that which was resident within her.
There were the typical announcements as always again being told what to do, how to be the good boys and girls and represent the school, their teachers, themselves well.
The principal went on about the production they were about to watch, as the lights darkened Jennifer crunched her little body over her crissed crossed applesauce legs watching as ballet dancers took the stage.
Some might have noticed the lighting. Some might have noticed the most graceful of movements as women jumped and were lifted up into the air. Some might have noticed the beauty of costumes and faces made up ever so perfectly.
Jennifer noticed the lead dancer's penis.
In the tightest of pants, Jennifer's eyes had landed on the bulging part between the legs of the man now leaping and twirling around and around the stage. Jennifer's mouth would form the words to her peer sitting next to her making mention of the unmentionable parts.
Her little friend, Kimberly, was wearing this new princess line dress which was blue and green and drew in very narrow to her waist. Jennifer's eyes had looked upon the beautiful wider skirt at the bottom and the ruffles that dressed up the neckline, the laces that tied around her throat that were a bright yellow as standing in contrast to the rest of the dress.
Jennifer looked at her friend upon whose ears had heard what she said but her eyes didn't register the same picture. Kimberly had been enraptured by princesses being thrown into the air and caught and the amazing flashing rainbow colored lights.
Kimberly had gotten lost into little girl dreams of princesses and princes and all that happily ever after endings proclaim. Kimberly hadn't even noticed that which had caught Jennifer's attention, nor did Kimberly fully understand.
But the teacher behind them understood and understood perfectly, she too had heard Jennifer's proclamation. Horrified her whole face contorted, as she bore her hand down into Jennifer's shoulder.
Jennifer wished she could vanish into the varnish of the shiny gymnasium flooring which she was sitting criss crossed upon.
Chastisement and shame barreled down upon the child who had dared point out that the male dancer had bulging parts between his legs. Jennifer hadn't followed the mandated set of approved of behavior. Threats were made and horrified astonishment was shown that such language would come out of the mouth of a 4th grader.
Jennifer didn't think it then but as she would grow older and remember back upon the ludicrous scene she would think to herself that she sadly knew more about those bulging parts between men's legs then that fourth grade teacher whose ignorance and horror had kept her blind to a child in need.
All that scenario taught Jennifer was that her lips sealed was the best possible posture. That liken unto crazy glue, an adhesive was being placed upon Jennifer's mouth that would ride out into the next decade, silence would dictate to her heart to lay low.. lay very very low. Much to the credit of the adversaries of Jennifer's small existence the child was learning silence in the most horrific and horrifying of ways.
That was what school really taught and reinforced into Jennifer's world. Day after day being swallowed by the abyss at home, by the abyss at school.. out in the hallways, the highways, the byways...
Jennifer was learning all too well the land of self preservation.
It was forming her insides, it was laying construction to mighty and strong foundations within a life, whose cracks and lack of substance would be made evident to all at the embarrassment of its prey, the life that would try to rest upon it.
Memories haunted Jennifer following her as if a cruel prank being played out year after year, from the teacher in 5th grade who had come up with a nickname for everyone, everyone in the class had a cool private nickname between them and the teacher.
Everyone except Jennifer.
He would just look at her and draw a blank.
Each time.
Each time.
There were names for everyone but her.
There was Amar the star. That one lingered and haunted. That one exalted another continually over her, the depth that Jennifer would plummet to over the exclusion from these ceremonious absurdities would rack her very being to the core.
There was the time she had cussed. She was just pissed. Something had transpired in the neighborhood and she had told the person to fuck off. Well on the bus the following morning threats were being made that parents would be told and that Jennifer was going to be exposed for having used such fowl language, she wanted to tell the girl she could fuck off again, but now she was afraid.
Jennifer had run into the tiled entrance, she had run through hallways, down a few stairs to the corridor where the payphone was, she put a few coins in the slot but still had to place the collect call to home. Her mother had answered the phone and lies after lies poured out of a panic stricken heart.
“Mom, Elise is mad at me and wants to get me into trouble. She is going to tell you I said bad words. But I didn't mom. I really didn't.”
Panic and dread and horror filled Jennifer's heart as she stammered on and on, trying to catch her breath as well as answer questions her mother was fielding back towards her, such as why would Elise do that, and what had really happened.
Jennifer's mind racing a million miles a minute struggling to come up with anything that sounded reasonable but nothing really did and she would probably be shown up for lying.
But what did she care.
What did she really care?
Jennifer's head felt so heavy. Jennifer felt exhausted as she raced to her third grade classroom before the bell rang.
Bells ringing.
Schedules dictating.
Year after year spent being herded like cattle into and out of classrooms, hallways, stair wells... faces changing or not changing but nothing really changing. The droning on and on and on through mandated corridors of human existence never once stopping to access whether the next foot step should even be taken.
Eyes ceased to plead for help as Jennifer's heart learned very quickly that it didn't know how to function like the other children's, eyes ceased to plead to be really seen but a will to survive was being forged.
….................................................
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