Lost
Pt. 1
I ran away from home when I was in the sixth grade. I decided that I couldn't live in darkness anymore and that I would run forever if that is what it took.
I ran to a friend's house and I hid in her tree house til her family left for the evening. Then I used their hide a key to sneak into the house. I went upstairs and I hid in her closet. it felt like the safest place in the world at that point. Hiding in that secret place and praying to never be found there. Praying for an escape to a better life. I hid with my little backpack of treasured possessions and prayed that I would be okay.
Then the doorbell started to ring. They were looking for me. Of course they would start at my best friend's house. It rang over and over again. I was so scared.
I remember she had a cubby in the back of her closet. It was storage space. That night it was my hiding place. The doors of the house were locked. The lights off. No one was home. No one even knew I was there. I was on the second floor, at the end of the hall, behind a closed bedroom door and a closed closet door, yet I wasn't safe anymore. I was found.
I crawled up into that crawl space and curled into a ball and held my breath. I cringed every time that doorbell sounded-over and over again.
I didn't want to be found. Not ever. I wanted to hide in the dark hole for the rest of my life. I was safe there.
After a while the ringing at the door stopped. The house grew silent once again. I stayed hidden until my twelve year old tummy started to thoroughly protest. I hadn't eaten since lunchtime. It was dark outside now. I slowly crept out, waiting for some unknown and unseen figure to jump out and grab me at any moment.
While I was searching through the fridge the phone started to ring. It rang again and again. I ran away from it and hid in the closet again. Yet it continued to ring. I could hear it echoing through the house. Then I knew I would never be free. Then I knew that there was no one where I could really run. No where I could hide.
Eventually my friend and her parents would come home and I would be found. And they would call mine and I would be sent home.
I called my mom. I cried and I told her where I was.
When they picked me up, my parents were furious with me. I was screamed at and called names. I was put down and cussed at. That's the night that I found my dark hole. That's the night I found my crawl space. The night I ran away is the night I figured out how to runaway inside, while enduring whatever I had to on the outside.
I survived the next six years of my life by crawling into the hole. I hid there in the midst of acts of violence. In the midst of heartbreak. I nursed wounds caused by rejection and betrayal in that place. I cried tears that no one else could ever see there.
I was myself there. Out side that closet I was whatever people wanted me to be. I did my chores, followed the rules, went to school, did my homework and participated in school activities. And I enjoyed that life in many ways. I had friends. I had boyfriends. I had teachers I had admired.
But I always retreated to the place of solace within my own internal closet. I could make my way there at any time and no matter where I was or in what company. In a room full of people I could be completely alone and hiding in the darkest corners. And that is where I was comfortable. That was where I felt safe.
No one could hurt me there. No one could lie to me there. No one could touch me there. I could not be violated in any way in that place. I was free to express myself in whatever manner I needed to.
In that closet, I learned to write. In that closet I learned to weep. I learned to dream. But I learned to hide and to never trust. I learned to lock doors. I built walls. I thought I was keeping others out. Really I was locking myself in.
I lived in that hellish black hole for years and years. I only half way experienced life. Any time anything good came along I was only half in...the rest of me hiding in my comfort zone. I thought it was a place of refuge. Maybe it was for a while; a season.
I ran away from home when I was in the sixth grade. I decided that I couldn't live in darkness anymore and that I would run forever if that is what it took.
I ran to a friend's house and I hid in her tree house til her family left for the evening. Then I used their hide a key to sneak into the house. I went upstairs and I hid in her closet. it felt like the safest place in the world at that point. Hiding in that secret place and praying to never be found there. Praying for an escape to a better life. I hid with my little backpack of treasured possessions and prayed that I would be okay.
Then the doorbell started to ring. They were looking for me. Of course they would start at my best friend's house. It rang over and over again. I was so scared.
I remember she had a cubby in the back of her closet. It was storage space. That night it was my hiding place. The doors of the house were locked. The lights off. No one was home. No one even knew I was there. I was on the second floor, at the end of the hall, behind a closed bedroom door and a closed closet door, yet I wasn't safe anymore. I was found.
I crawled up into that crawl space and curled into a ball and held my breath. I cringed every time that doorbell sounded-over and over again.
I didn't want to be found. Not ever. I wanted to hide in the dark hole for the rest of my life. I was safe there.
After a while the ringing at the door stopped. The house grew silent once again. I stayed hidden until my twelve year old tummy started to thoroughly protest. I hadn't eaten since lunchtime. It was dark outside now. I slowly crept out, waiting for some unknown and unseen figure to jump out and grab me at any moment.
While I was searching through the fridge the phone started to ring. It rang again and again. I ran away from it and hid in the closet again. Yet it continued to ring. I could hear it echoing through the house. Then I knew I would never be free. Then I knew that there was no one where I could really run. No where I could hide.
Eventually my friend and her parents would come home and I would be found. And they would call mine and I would be sent home.
I called my mom. I cried and I told her where I was.
When they picked me up, my parents were furious with me. I was screamed at and called names. I was put down and cussed at. That's the night that I found my dark hole. That's the night I found my crawl space. The night I ran away is the night I figured out how to runaway inside, while enduring whatever I had to on the outside.
I survived the next six years of my life by crawling into the hole. I hid there in the midst of acts of violence. In the midst of heartbreak. I nursed wounds caused by rejection and betrayal in that place. I cried tears that no one else could ever see there.
I was myself there. Out side that closet I was whatever people wanted me to be. I did my chores, followed the rules, went to school, did my homework and participated in school activities. And I enjoyed that life in many ways. I had friends. I had boyfriends. I had teachers I had admired.
But I always retreated to the place of solace within my own internal closet. I could make my way there at any time and no matter where I was or in what company. In a room full of people I could be completely alone and hiding in the darkest corners. And that is where I was comfortable. That was where I felt safe.
No one could hurt me there. No one could lie to me there. No one could touch me there. I could not be violated in any way in that place. I was free to express myself in whatever manner I needed to.
In that closet, I learned to write. In that closet I learned to weep. I learned to dream. But I learned to hide and to never trust. I learned to lock doors. I built walls. I thought I was keeping others out. Really I was locking myself in.
I lived in that hellish black hole for years and years. I only half way experienced life. Any time anything good came along I was only half in...the rest of me hiding in my comfort zone. I thought it was a place of refuge. Maybe it was for a while; a season.
Comments
Post a Comment