Monday, August 1, 2011


Something startles me awake.  My eyes are wide open but there is not light enough to adjust to any kind of sight.  My small body wriggles beneath some kind of constraint.  Above me there is a wall.   As I move my hands to each side of me the realization begins to sink in that I'm in a box?  It is hard and very quiet.  Unnervingly quiet.  I can't hear anything, nor see anything.  There is a faint odor of pine and my fingers can lightly brush and sense that this must be what has become my tomb.  I am trapped.  As I lie there my mind moves from panic, to exhaustion, to anger, to fear.  I scream, but I can't tell if anything is coming out.  I feel like it is my voice, but I can't recognize the tone or intonation.  The voices creep in, silently, then more bravely and with conviction.  They replay themselves over and over again.  They start as a whisper, but get louder as my mind begins to race.

"slut", "bitch", "fat", "whore", "ungrateful", "liar", "spoiled", "selfish", "mean", "loveless", "lazy", "irresponsible", "ugly", "vacant", "entitled", "crazy", "delusional", "bad", "wrong", "broken", "loser", "failure", "dirty", "nothing", "rotten", "insecure"....   over and over and on and on.

I begin to pray silently, my mouth is moving and I assume there is something coming out.  I pray to Jesus.  I have not been baptized.  I don't know who He is or what He can do for me, but I don't know what else to do.  Jesus, God, Lord Almighty, please stop these voices from destroying what is left of my mind.  I don't know where I am.  I don't know what to do.  I am too small.  Help me.  Don't leave me here to listen to this.  Please save me.  Do something. Anything.  I will die.  I can die. Just. Let. Me. Die.  Amen

I scream.  In an instant I wake up and look around.  My eyes transition with the light of the morning sun shining down on me from the window above my bed.  I hear my husband showering in the bathroom.  Someone rustling around in the pantry, most likely on the search for some breakfast treat.  The dog whining from the living room to be let outside and the cats scratching to get in.  The hum of the computer next to the bedroom anticipating my daily morning check-in.  All familiar sounds.  All familiar noises.  It was just a dream.  I am not trapped.  There. Are. No. Voices.  There are no voices.  I am (not) trapped.

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