The Secrets of the Walk-in Closet

Shhhhhhhh.

The only way in.

The only way out.

Overwhelming suffocation of not knowing when to leave. Knowing staying may kill any sense of self. The stareful attacks and sideways glances keep you right there. Frozen. Unmoving. Faking a smile just to survive in one piece. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” The lies start before we even know why.

The safety closet gives way to,

Get me outta here. With now way out.

When to leave the cycle of soft violence and quiet violence. Verbal slings and arrows and all things sarcastic and insulting. Not knowing when or if to,

Get out.

Get lost.

Get with the program.

Because when the rules take on a blood thirsty life of their own. So do the secrets. There is a strange sense of loyalty afforded the bully. Huh. How in the heck is this allowed.

After all these folks who dumped you in are designed to protect, Right? Isn’t that the way it is supposed to be? While,

Staring at the four walls, in the dark. Wondering if this is “normal.”

Listening. Just. Listening.

For the footsteps. Eyes darting in the dark trying to crane. Trying to tell and hear whether they are coming or going.

Toward you.

There is nothing else in there, ‘cept the floor. And you.

All alone. With the secrets of the world.

And.

Ya cannot tell a soul.

Not one single soul.

Sitting there with the memories of times past. Bad ones. Other’s ones, too.

Sharing a dark place of space with the secrets. Secrets.

Secrets become the lies we tell others. Protection is the name of the game. Secrets take on a life all their own in the dark box of four walls. Held against our will at the whim of someone considered better. In charge of us. The boss of me.

Whimpering for someone, to come and set us free.

Set me free and finally let me out of the prison of someone else’s problem. Problems. The truth is much to painful to admit. To any other human. One that can speak and repeat anyway. Because then,

others may find out what has been going on. At so and sos house. “They seem like the perfect family. Stand up citizens.”

Kids can be so mean. A family’s name is oftentimes its greatest and only asset. To keep the gravy train going. That is. Unless and until awareness shows up and smacks up side the head. The cycles destined to continue unabated, unchanged.

Until the next time.

Forced back in, by agendas and innuendos of grubby little fingers in other people’s pies. (dh)

Silenced.

Again.

With the deepest regret that you dared cross them and them alone. You are back where you do not belong, doing time for someone else who would not or could not admit guilt. Maybe, they are unaware of what they do.

Maybe not.

Neverthless. The claustrophobia is the only thing that gets you through. In the distance the slamming doors is all that can be heard. Jumpy, you close your eyes so you do not hear.

Startling.

Stunning.

Hurtful.

Gunning.

The wide world feeling of having the feeling everyone is after you.

”Don’t tell anyone.”

Ot they will say I am crazy, cut me off.

From what you wonder. My time in the closet? Give me a friggin’, friggin’ break.

Please.

Continuous conviction has a first place finish in principle.

Logically.

Illogically.

Why would you, or me, want someone or something that is not ours to have? Forcing the secrets back into the closet because one day the true factual verbal will sink a ship? We ask permission when we want to learn how to belong, not when we a forced to. Belong.

I do not get it.

Haven’t for a long time.

There are boys.

There are girls.

Do you consider yourself as equal as you perceive yourself to be?

In the closet, or out of the closet. The choice to run is always yours.

No one else is gonna take care of you unless you take care of you.

Manipulators love you when you’re playing, even if you do not realize you are,

playing.

Sometimes the only way through it all is,

Through. It all.

Taking the onus on oneself is an exercise in strength beyond full measure. Ruler, Yard stick, Football yards on a field. Footballs yards on or off the field.

The release may never, ever come.The release from the tight grip of the bullies and their frenemies. Sometimes, it is better to just be alone. Unforced by the errors of someone else unable to come to terms with the way and the ways. They behave and react.

Principled discipline may be the name of the game.

Punitive protection in the hands of an angry bully is dangerous territory. Money grabs are a grab for a reason. Selfishly so.

Mistakes are what teach us how to grow. Our minds wander out of our heads as a habit of coping skills to forget what we do not want to remember. The attacks come and the attacks go. The soft violence of a word push and an abrupt shove. Makes little difference the tactic du jour.

Subtle cues and signs we do not measure up may stick with us for a lifetime of closet time outs at the hands of our protectors. Why is it the negative is more often than not remembered more than the positive. I dunno. Some people really, really hate to lose. Others take the struggle on as a challenge. Come out better persons, too.

It begs a good question of where our collective minds may “be at.” What is normal for one may not be normal for another. Conditional conditions conditioned upon personal responses?

Baby and bath water stuff.

Unforced error.

Unavoidable error.

Life is seldom that simple.

Getting rid of something good or of value to elimination—when trying to get rid of someone or something unwanted? Happens to the best of us closet dwellers.

Abusive.

Mean.

Admitting there is a problem is the first step up or down to beginning to fix it.

None of us are immune.

Not one of us.

The best we can hope is to keep it together.

”And if true, it is important for us, in reference to this Negro Question and some others. The Germans say, “you must empty-out the bathing-tub, but not the baby along with it.” Fling-out your dirty water with all zeal, and set it careening down the kennels; but if you can keep the little child!” (Thomas Carlyle wk)

The struggle is real.

The struggle of equality.

Is not anything new or sexy.

The struggle is for all to equally believe in the fact that in His eyes we are all created equal.

And.

Do no harm.

Will the real man please stand up?