Drowning in the Darkness
It came to me in the night, I guess. When I opened my eyes, it was there- that heaviness in my heart and my limbs, like moving through oatmeal. The sun was a little too bright. The air was a little too warm.
I fought it all day long. B would have seen it in my eyes and she would have drug it out of me and made me admit it and she would have stroked my hair and held me while I cried. Missing her, missing that unspoken translation of emotional current just made it all that much worse.
The voice starts before I’ve had my coffee, reminding me how lazy I am, how many things have gone undone, how much time and money I waste by simply breathing. My sister brushes past me; my misery is invisible to her, and she doesn’t know that when she goes out into the driveway to talk to my parents that the voice is selling her down the river. Telling me that they’re making fun of you, that they don’t want to talk to you, they don’t love you, they never have.
No one has ever loved you, and no one ever will. You are more trouble than you’re worth.
I argue with the voice, I try to push back. I always do. The fight drowns out everything else, and I’m driving to my hair appointment thinking about all the people in this life that I love so much, who have proven their love for me in nothing short of breathtaking gestures.
My dear friend carefully sections off my hair; drying, straightening and thinning each section in slow, sure movements. I dare to look my reflection in the eye, and the voice whispers:
You’re wasting your money, you ugly fat little girl. You’ll starve for this later because you thought it mattered, but you’re just squandering what little you have left on turning a pig’s ear into a silk purse. You’re making a fool of yourself- an ugly, fat little fool of a girl.
I close my eyes and choke off the bitter laughter rising in my throat.
I know I’m being ridiculous. I know that the voice is wrong, so very wrong, almost comically wrong.
Yet I believe just enough that I cannot bring myself to ask for help, to ask for the love and reassurance that would chase it away and force it into silence. Because the voice has already convinced me that anyone I asked would look at me with pity and not love or compassion. Because the voice has already aroused my suspicion for all living things and the motivation behind their actions.
When I fumble at the front door with my purse and a few groceries, I realize my sister’s dog has locked me out. I curse him as I dig for my keys, and again when he greets me as I open the door. He becomes the verbal target for all of the ugliness I’ve endured all day, and about three quarters of the way through my rant, I see myself. Wild-eyed, angry and snide, yelling at a poor sweet dog whose only crime is being so excited to see me that he jumps up on the door.
I crawl into bed and surrender. Slow, long sobs and huge, hot tears.
The voice slips into this opening.
look at you, a loud-mouthed shrew, an insufferable bitch, screaming at a poor sweet animal. does it make you feel better to dump your pain on someone else? to pass your smallness around and be feared? that’s why no one loves you, why no one ever will. because you are a stupid, fat, ugly shrew. a silly mean cow that thinks she has a place in this world. you have no place in this world. you are nothing.
My cries grow sharper, and my sister’s dog curls up with his head under my chin, nuzzling and licking my jaw.
It makes my heart ache for Adicus. Which is something I’ve refused to admit, that I avoid cuddling with my sister’s dogs because it’s so much salt in that wound. And so I cry for him too, for having lost him, the cruel end of our story- for not even knowing how he is, for not wanting to endure everything I must to know that he is happy and healthy, and for how fucked up that is. That you love someone so fully, that you create a life together, and the end of that story is that you aren’t even willing to make contact to check on the poor goddamn dog.
As hard as I try, I can’t see hope. I know that tomorrow the voice will just be a whisper, and the next day it will leave me entirely. I understand that the voice is wrong. There is a sense of shame in believing it at all, in succumbing to it.
It’s just that in this moment, all I can do is weep while it screams at me.
17 comments
The voice *is* wrong. You know it, you admit. Shutting it out may work for a time, but it’ll only gain strength until you confront it and beat it down like the bitch it is. Castrate it, cut it’s head off. Laugh defiantly and make it cower.
Only you can give it power over you. Deny it that control.
I don’t know you, but what I know of you is that you’re a beautiful person inside and out. Strong willed. Crazy? Sure, who isn’t. But you’re the kind of person that others want to be with. You make the rest of us better people.
oh, hon. i know that voice. that bitch has me in her grasp way more often than i could ever admit. you’ve encapsulated the experience masterfully.
and as for shaking the bitch loose? one foot in front of the other. she won’t beat us. we won’t let her.
magnolia recently posted..go get it
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by verybadcat13, magnolia. magnolia said: all of you MUST read this. MASTERFUL work by a great writer. @verybadcat13 new post! Drowning in the Darkness http://ow.ly/19lpHv [...]
You write my heart sometimes, milady.
The whole post has “Killing Me Softly” playing quietly in my mind.
When we learn to turn and confront the voice and tell it “you have no power over me”, it begins to subside. But being firm about that and believing it with all of your heart can take time. I’m still working on it. Don’t stop fighting back. I know you can be louder than the voice!
MsDarkstar recently posted..Silence Death
This post makes me so sad, simply because I know how lovely you are. The voice is wrong. Hang in there, lady—you’re so strong.
Allow yourself the opportunity to grieve you life changes. Your old path to success in work, life and love no longer exists. Let yourself say goodbye.
Your new path isn’t cleared yet, but I know you can clear the path and keep pushing on, one step at a time. Don’t get too overwhelmed by the big picture, just drop in each piece of the puzzle as you find it.
I believe in you. I know you have the self-discipline to gain everything you desire in life. Don’t settle for what is, aspire to what can be.
As others have said the voice *is* wrong, but the voice is also you and you will only be able to swim away from the feelings the voice engenders when you believe that the voice isn’t *all* of you but just a small part that doesn’t have power over the rest of you.
I have dealt with that same evil bitch as well. Please sit down and write down ALL of your wonderful attributes. No easy task when the bitch is on the loose but try it, no matter how silly the one attribute is. Then when she is rearing her ugly head, read that list. Read it over and over again. For every nasty thought she says, remind yourself. In time you will gain strength again. (((HUGS))))
Angela recently posted..Drums
I remember that voice. It got so loud at one point in my life that they, and sadly myself as a willing participant, decided to kill it with bottles of pills. Now it is merely an echo, though even echoes can be haunting. I am not sure if it was the meds, which are now just a memory, or part of growing up, but sometimes I wonder if it is not better to feel too much than to feel hardly anything at all.
Oh, girlfriend. My heart breaks. You are so strong, but you will have days like this where the voice finds its way in. Crying is a release that, while painful and sometimes annoying, will relieve some of the tension. Hang on to the next day, because it is coming, and it will be better.
Stacey recently posted..The here and now
You’re so much better than that voice. You know that deep inside.
I’m sorry you’re going through this. Times like these are tough. But we’re all here for you.
Kim recently posted..Open Letters Friday- Volume XXXX
I know it’s loud, but the voice is wrong. You are a beautiful woman, beautiful writer, and as ‘D’ said above, need to allow yourself the space to grieve through the transition. You ARE beautiful.
doniree recently posted..Perfect Timing
Been there.
Parents split up when I was 5, dad got custody ( mom was screwing around on him ). Remember, when I was around 13, my dad in tears asking us to say we wanted to go live with our mom. dad drank alot. mornings waking to yet another beer opening before work.
There were alot of times that I was pretty sure that noone loved me. Times when I asked who would miss me if I wasn’t there. Wet the bed till I was in 7th grade.
that was 26 years ago. i met a wonderful girl, and ended up with two perfect children, a son and a daughter. Sometimes I look at them and think about where I was when I was their age.
I’m totally happy with my now. My back-then I’m forgetting.
Just keep your head down and keep pushing. your wonderful future of complete contentment is just ahead. Set a star to sail by, and just keep moving.
Point in your favor is that you recognize this. Many would feel the emotions but be unable to focus on them, and become sour and defeated without realizing it.
i know that voice. will kick it’s ass for you. and send hugs in its place.
one breath at a time, chica. xo
emma recently posted..Let Them Eat Cake
Yup, I’ve got one, too. Just keep trying every trick you know, as you get older you may be able to subdue her, as some of us have. My mother’s trick was to tell her voice to go eat worms, which made her laugh, which made her remember that there were good things to be happy about. Journaling helped me, don’t worry about what to write, just write until you beat down the demons. Breathe, hang on, breathe.
gail recently posted..automotive seduction
There’s not a lot more that I can say that everyone hasn’t already said. The voice is wrong. You know that deep down but it doesn’t stop it popping up every now and again. Push it away. Smile. Shoulders back. Move forward. Breathe. Write.
nuttycow recently posted..Scruffy
Everything in your life has changed so dramatically in the past year that these moments of just being overwhelmed with it all have to be normal. Hopefully the crying is cathartic and you feel better on the other side. I do wish there was a way to shut the voice off – she talks to me too, far too often. As I am starting a new job that will make me confront some of my fears – the voice is telling me how I will fail and how no one will buy anything from me.
Tricia recently posted..Just a quick update
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