Welcome to my closet. I want to take some time here. I think a lot of my feelings are caused by this event. As I write this blog, I will try to be there in my thoughts. It is a bittersweet entry.
My room was narrow. One long wall was my single bed. The opposite wall to that was a closet.With my whole self, I am going to take the time to go in the room. Looking at the closet and entering the closet, my question is why was I going in there? I am not able to put my feelings of why I felt safe there. Was there something going on in my house that scared me enough to enter? Why was sadness so present? When I wrote letters to my Dad on that typewriter, was the tears really cause I missed him? My mind bounces all over the place when I try and bring this together. Entering the closet will be a mystery of why.
Climbing up has no memory. Being in there is so quiet. Again, the safe feeling is big. But my question to myself is, why are you in there? Why are you needing to feel safe and hide in a closet?
When my older boys were young, at bedtime I would keep all the lights on in our house. Lock every window and door and also put a chair against the door of the room we slept in. I would sleep in that closet in the room we were all in. I lived with so much fear. It was hard for me to be a brave Mom at that time. I was under the age of 20 years old. There would be times I would sleep in the playpen with the baby. I remember shaking inside and sweating in fear trying to sleep. Every morning when I would wake up, it was a relief of making it thru another night. The mystery is beyond me. I remember begging my mother to stay with me. Begging her crying at her feet as she walked away and got into her car and drove off. Is there something that I did so wrong? I would have nightmares about my mom being murdered and left for dead under the big window at the house we lived in. Every turn of my life has been living in fear and withdrawn in life.
There is another broken memory from my bedroom as a child. There are years that are blocked from me, but there is a moment I think about all the time. When entering my room the bottom of my bed was by my bedroom door. I recall this blue itchy dress I wore a lot. But this memory is me laying at the end of my bed. But my back was to the end and my legs are being held open and up. I feel frozen in this memory. There is a male figure that comes to this memory but I can’t put a face to this person. Why does my memory close my mind on this broken memory? So after I watched the show, The Girl in the Closet, it was relatable to my heart. She too has had a rough walk in life. Not being able to trust anything. Many things about what she is going thru today I can relate. I just want to have a chance to be told I am not the blame for my feelings. I am worth something in life. That I am loved and worth loving. But it causes me to question if I can. Can I be like most? I am a single Mom, withdrawn from my life. I have dreams and those dreams have been shattered by the nightmares I live every day.
I hope as I unfold all of this closet life, I find freedom in me. I can prove that no matter what I have been thru, I can still walk thru life and give my kids a home and all they need. But emotionally it has been rough
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