Day 10 Pleasure Revolution- In the Closet

Have you ever gotten so tired of all your relationships that you just wanted to crawl into a hole. Move away, find a new beach community in a country where you pay .30 cents for a coconut, and just survive there, make a new batch of friends, preferably a batch that doesn’t speak English.

I am writing this post from inside my closet, it is the only place I can find to be by myself. I spent my childhood in my closet, it was a place where I felt safe. I remember once my father belting me across the face, I flew into the bench which now lives in my kitchen, landed on a my kidney, it was bruised for weeks. I ran upstairs and hid in my closet. I think I must have been 14 at the time, far too old to be hiding in closets, far too old to still be being hit by my father, too old to not fight back. I moved out with my boyfriend shortly thereafter, it was never really spoken about, I just sort of stopped coming home.

So why am I hiding in the closet? Because I don’t want to go anywhere I am not wanted. I want to be wanted, especially by those I love. I don’t think I am alone here. I am hurt! When I am folding freshly washed clothes and dripping tears all over them, it is not a good night for cavalier words, to be mean to me. I know this last line is not fair, maybe this is why I am writing it, as a petty attempt to have the last word for all the world to read. I am already hiding in a closet like a 14 year old I might as well embody this role that I am playing, really fill out this misunderstood teenager angst I am overcome by. I know I am being juvenile, fearful, and seeing only the smaller picture, I know all this and I am still staying in my closet, a closet too small for anyone other than me, myself and I.

Bottom line? When the “we” disappears and the “I” comes out, I get scared about becoming a “we” in a way that requires us to be in communication for a lifetime, about being a “we” in a way which I have no way out of. I am afraid of being someone else's disappointment, it is a deep shame and fear. I am in this closet because I was triggered, decided I wasn’t loved, which no amount of rational thought can penetrate when I feel this small and fragile.

If only it were a long enough closet to sleep in. I emerged from my closet just long enough to grab the ringing phone. On the phone was a voice that told me that I am wanted ,that I am loved, that staying in here when warm arms await is “crazy”. It just seems so hard to leave, this safe cramped little space. I suppose I will have to use the washroom soon, at which time I might just come out of the closet since I don’t have a jar to pee in.

“Where do you feel safe?” is the question in 12 days journal #163