Saturday, December 29, 2012

Confessions of a Scared Child

I am a scared little girl most days, trying my best to fill each moment with noise and activity.  I am not sure people understand exactly what it feels like to be confused and impotent.  I find myself taking odd little personal habits to keep myself in a false place of obliviousness.  I stop talking to people I love, I cocoon myself inside of myself, and most of all I lose patience for most people quickly.  It seems to me that most people do not really understand what it is like to live with a gun pointed at them. 

One of the things I do and I am so ashamed of is hide.  I don’t call or text my family because if I am distant I do not have to deal with it.  It is not something I have to think about if I keep my distance; it is extraordinarily cruel to both my father and to myself.  We both deserve better treatment.  Some days my head is so filled with the past that I am terrified if I spoke with my dad I would shatter into tiny pieces.  So rather than face my demons and do the honorable thing, I act out in pure cowardice.

It is in that cowardice that I find the bitterness I have towards some people and their behavior.  I understand that the holidays bum a lot of people out.  It is bothersome and horrible to feel alone, to not have a job, or just to miss the sun.  I understand but I have little sympathy for most people who are down right now, part of it is that I don’t have any emotional space left to give a damn.  The other part is that I almost feel like the show of it all is more important than the emotions the person goes through, if that makes sense. Let’s be clear, there are a few people who can get away with emotional cutting in my eyes right now, people who truly are going through the worst life can give you.  I think it is being a bad friend to shake a friend yelling “If your dad/mom was healthy and with you through the holidays, take your bitching elsewhere!”

I hope the people in my life will understand what I am going through, and be there on the other side.  I carry my phone religiously just hoping and praying that if it rings it will read “Daddy”.  It leaves me so raw that I fight tears back at anything slightly sentimental.  Hell I cried during the Macy’s Parade because of the song about fishing with dad.  I sleep well some nights but increasingly I wake up thinking that it’s too late and in that moment I am haunted….
I am sorry; I am a scared little girl