Her Father’s Chair

She got a call, her parents’ home is now, foreclosed, and, the individual who’d called her told her she could come, and take whatever she’d wanted out…

She’d, entered into, that darkened living room, the lights won’t turn on (electricity’s disconnected???), and, she’d, fumbled around in the darkness, and, stumbled across something that tripped her feet, and it took her back, into, her childhood (after all, that was the home she grew up in!).  She saw that chair, in all of its, older glorious days, how the velvet was still, unfuzzed up, how it’d looked, brand new, where her father, used to sit, with her, on his laps, after supper, patted down her hair, cuddled with her, told her countless stories!

Her father’s chair, that was, all the memories, she had left, of him, she couldn’t, recall, anything about her, other than, in the “presence” of that chair, like he’d, never existed, outside, the realms, of that chair for some unknown reasons.  Her father’s chair, it’d carried, that deep, dark secret, inside, the cushions, it’s the place, where her father, loved, playing that little game when her mama’s off to her book club, cooking class, or whatever the HECK it was her mama was into, during her childhood years.

the monsters in her father’s, chair…found online

As those memories all came, flooding back up, she’d, felt that chill down her spine, she’d, wanted to, escape, out of the room, but the room suddenly, closed down, and she became, trapped in.

Her father’s chair, it was, not a, good place at all, she couldn’t, remember any of the better moments she’d spent, with him, in that chair of his, and, she’d remembered how, he’d, used to, put his hands down her blouse, and, patted her tiny little, nipples, and, she’d felt, aroused, then, she was, overwhelm with, guilt!

Her father’s chair, she’d decided, to BURN that piece of memory down, and, she’d had the movers come, hauled that piece of dead furniture, out on the lawns, and, she’d, STRUCK a match, and, everything went up in smokes, and, she’d, burned the whole house down with it, and she’s still, NOT charged with arson, in fact, the city should be grateful to her, for, ridding the neighborhood of that, eyesore!!!

The Lies of the Ninth

The memories of trauma, suppressed, because the individual, was way too young, and, something DID happen, maybe, just not the version of the story that this person had told, to her/his, adult counterparts, translated…

There was something that happened when I was younger, that impacted me, something that’s, a part of, my chaotic memories…

At nine, my mother wanted me to test into the GT classes of an all-star elementary school, that’s, farther away from where I used to live, I’d gotten in, and, she’d, transferred me there.

On the first day of school, as I arrived home, I’d told her, that I was, almost, abducted by a bad guy, there was, a woman in a covered up motorcycle helmet that told me she’d brought the lunches for my mother to me.  I’d told my mother: back then, I was playing outside the gates of my school, and the woman asked me to go with her, I’d felt that something wasn’t quite right, because mom wouldn’t do that, and I’d, run scared, back to the school.  But, I wasn’t, acquainted with my new school yet, it took me, a long time, to finally, get back into my class.

As I’d told, I’d, started crying scared.  My mother was shocked, the very next day, she’d, called up the school, as well as the Department of Education to, we’d, almost gotten the case on the press; within a week’s time I was, transferred, back to my former school again.

But actually, this, was a story I’d, made up.

illustration from UDN.com

There were, two primary motives of me lying: to find a justifiable reason for me heading into school ate, and find a way to go back to my former school, that’s not based off of “I don’t want to go to my new school”.

Two years ago, with my deep-rooted guilt, I’d, told my parents this truth, admitted that I was, lying to them from back when in the family therapist’s office, and I’d, made up the stories, from an illustrated book my parents bought for me, “I Have a Way”, and, the details of what the woman whom I’d told had, tried to take me away, came from the illustration of a person in a helmet, trying, to take a child away in the pages.

Because my story was, fully-thought out, without any flaws, to the point, that my parents, as well as the staff members of the school all thought it was, true, for almost, twenty years.

Do children who read, really behave themselves?  The knowledge I’d gained from reading, taught me how to commit a crime.

And yet, up to recently, I’d felt, chaotic of this memory.

There was a part of me that felt, that might there have been, something that’s, happened to me, even though it may not have been, the version of the stories I’d told?  How else, would I come up with, the specific details, including what the woman sounded like, what she was dressed in, what her scooter looked like…………

The me at nine years old, I’d, watched the scenes, played on in my mind, as I’d, “retold” my mother what had, happened (and if I remembered correctly, the highest scoring section of my G.T. exams was in the “thinking skills in space and images”).  And, I’d, started crying like there was, no tomorrow, to the point I was, trembling hard, if I were lying, then, how come I had, such physiological response?  Could it be, that I’d, fooled myself into believing?  Or, had there actually, been something that’s, too awful, too shocked, for the me at age nine to accept?  So I’d, forgotten, and, altered this memory of mine, to make it, fictitious?

Several years ago, I’d gone to a hypnosis therapy session, to deal with the problem of ‘feeling a ton of pain, but I can’t cry”.  This was, completely opposite to the me at nine, who’d, “made up a story, that’s, false, and cried like it actually, happened.”

And yet, at the physical classes, I’d shown, the “reflexive response outbursts” in crying, as the coach helped me to relax my diaphragm, I’d, started, wailing hard, it was, a sort of cry, from the depth of my body.

The coach told me, that the diaphragm is a place where, “unresolved emotions are, stored”, so, there may be, some sort of, very deep trauma from long ago, that’s still, not yet, entered, into my consciousness, stayed still inside of my body.

I’d instinctively felt, that in the lies I’d told when I was nine, there might have been something, that’s made me stuck, as a twenty-nine year-old, grown up right now.

So, something definitely happened to you, because of the physiological response of your body, and this sort of a response only comes, when the body had, experienced, something that’, extremely, traumatic, so, maybe something HAD, happened to you at age nine, just not as you’d, remembered it, being almost abducted by a stranger, maybe, it was, something else, that’s, more serious, because the body, it, NEVER lies, and it’s, up to this individual, to dig even deeper, if s/he can, to find out exactly, what had, happened to her/him in his childhood years, and resolve what happened to her/him, piece, by piece.  And, until this person resolved everything, s/he will, always, have that thing that’s, blocking her/his path, from reaching her/his, full potential.

Some Moments, You Work, Really Hard, to Forget…

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t.  We all, have these moments, in our pasts, that we’d done something awful, hurt someone, when we never meant to.

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t, these are, the moments, that will, stay forever, IN your mind, haunt you, for life, and, there, is NO way you can, EVER, just, SHRUG it all off!

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just, can’t, like that night, that you should’ve gone STRAIGHT home, but instead, you’d, hit the bars, and got, picked up, by some LOSER, and, after a few drinks, the room, it started, swirling, turning, and, it all just, went BLACK…

Some moments, you work, really hard, to forget, but just can’t, those, are the moments, that imprinted themselves, onto your GUILTY conscience, and, your guilty conscience will, ALWAYS, keep these moments for you, even IF, you worked, your ASSES off, to block it all out.

Those Blurred Out Memories

There’s that file folder, or maybe, a file cabinet, maybe, with those, blurred out memories, that you’re still keeping for reasons, I wouldn’t know.  Those blurred out memories, why you keepin’ ‘em?  In hopes, that one day, they’ll all become cleared up, without the fogs surrounding them one day on their own?

Those blurred out memories, no use trying to remember their contents, they’re unimportant, that, was why you’re minds “deleted” those files, but just, hadn’t gotten around, to clean out the trash yet!  Those blurred out memories, what, do you think you’ll find, when you’d wiped the dusts away, when they’d become clear again?  Are you looking for forgiveness, to be delivered from them, the way that believing in god would deliver you away from your sins?

Those blurred out memories, let them stay blurred out, because, IF you wipe all those fogs away, what you find, maybe too shocking for you to accept, so, just leave it well enough alone now, you hear!

Those blurred out memories, what, do you hope, to achieve, by making them clear again?  And, are you, ready, to ACCEPT the consequences, of finding out what, exactly it is, that they entail?  Are you ready, to discover, what actually, lies beneath???

Memories of Pain from the Childhood Years Carried Over

Because during those childhood years, your brains are still, under development?  Which makes you that much MORE susceptible…

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, and spilled into your adulthoods, and, it’s like that oil rig that leaked in the Gulf, that managed, to trap all those water fowls?  A HUGE mess!

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, and, there’s NO way you can, rid of them all, even IF you’d managed to, block them out of your minds when you’re awake, who’s to say that they won’t come back, in the midnight hours, and disturb you, in your sweet dreams?

Memories of pain from the childhood years carried over, because in childhood, your brains are still developing, which means, that things can easily get imprinted, and, you’ll carry those scars for the rest of your lives.

Memories of pains from the childhood years carried over, there’s NO doubt, and, because you got NO clue, ‘cuz you didn’t want to know, what exactly happened to you as a kid, that, is why you’re still currently, rolling, in that god DAMN, snowballing VICIOUS cycle, and, you will, keep on rolling, rolling, rolling…………

His Nights, Consumed by the Shadows

His nights, consumed by the shadows, and, he’d just, pull those way too not thick-enough covers over his head…

His nights, consumed by the shadows, and he has absolutely NO recollections, of WHEN those shadows started showing up in his nights, and now, they would, pay him visits, every single night, and, he just, couldn’t fend them off at all.

His nights, consumed by the shadows, it’d become, too grueling, for him to cope now, and, in order, to NOT let those shadows into his mind, he’d forced himself, to stay awake, ALL through the nights, and, during the daytime, because he couldn’t sleep at all at night, he’d become, lethargic, and, couldn’t do anything REPRODUCTIVE at all!

His nights, consumed by the shadows, there’s no way he’d found, that he could use, to effectively, chase all those nightmares away, after all, they (the nightmares) were all, sown down, into the field of his mind when he was real young………

Childhood, Hauting You

You don’t know why, but, you’d been, haunted by those childhood days from so very long ago…

Childhood, haunting you, because you’d NEGLECTED to pay enough attention to that damaged child that’s within you, and now, s/he is coming back, night, AFTER night, gnawing you, making you feel her/his (depending on your gender!!!) pains.

Childhood, haunting you, how, do you get rid of it?  You can’t, unless, you can find H.G. Wells, and have him build you that Time Machine, so you can go back, and change things, but, H.G. Wells is already DEAD!  Childhood, haunting you, how can this be, you’d wondered to yourselves, I’d left my childhood, so very long ago, and I’m already, an adult, so, how come, I’m still gnawed, by these painful sensations that I’m, just, remembering now???

Childhood will ALWAYS haunt you, as you were, just like me, ABUSE and NEGLECTED by those two PRIMARY attachment figures in your lives (hello, hello, hello???), and you still have NO way out, of that messed up state of mind you’re still currently, STUCK inside of!

The Darkened Corners of My Childhood

There are those, darkened corners of my childhood, that I’d not dared to, venture into, alone, on my own, because of the monsters that were said, to live there…

The darkened corners of my childhood, where every single NIGHTMARE, NIGHT TERROR, along with all those suppressed memories of the past were kept locked up.  The darkened corners of my childhood, I was drawn in to them, I heard those corners, called out to me, in an enticing way, that I couldn’t keep away, just like those sailors couldn’t kept away from those dangerous rocks where the sirens sung on top of?

The darkened corners of my childhood, they will never, see the light, because they were hovered over, kept locked up, out of everybody’s knowledge and sight, but, I knew of their existence, I’d still hear them call out to me, from time to time, it’s just that I’d gotten better at, IGNORING those sharpened, painful screeches is all.

The darkened corners of my childhood, when, will they all get brought out to the broad daylight?  Never?  Someday?  One day?  I feel, those darkened corners of my childhood, yearning, wishing AND hoping, to get out, and I want to try to help shed some light, but, I don’t know where to begin………

When Your Childhood Became “Disabled”

And no, you still claim DISABILITY on that childhood of yours, once it’d become, DISABLED…

When your childhood became “disabled”, do you NOT recall when, or even HOW it happened?  Of course N-O-T, you’d worked, WAY too hard is the thing, to put those FUCKED days behind you, and, you ran, the first chance you got, away, from that place you were raised, that place, with the memories that haunted and hurt you like hell.

When your childhood became “disabled”, there’s NO way, to help it get rehabilitated, because it’s not like that twisted ankle, that broken wrist that will, eventually, heal back up, with the right kinds of medical treatment processes.

When your childhood became “disabled”, there’s NOTHING you can do, but to sit with it, as it weathers, through ALL the pains and sufferings that it’s due.  When your childhood became “disabled”, you may work, real hard, to get it to, function properly, but, you will NOT be able to, because, those days of your youths are, long, long, L-O-N-G gone, and, you have, absolutely NO way, to TURN back the hands of time, do you?  Nope, so, you’ll forever, LIVE, with a disabled childhood…

How We Spent Our Childhood Nights…

Memories, from, the GREAT BEYOND here…

How we spent our childhood nights, remember?  Oh yeah, we’d spent our childhood nights, waiting, endlessly, for our parents, to come and kiss us goodnight, but, they NEVER did, we were the ones, to give them the kisses and the hugs, remember that?  How we spent our childhood nights, waiting, for our parents, to read us those bedtime stories, but, we’d waited, and waited, and, where the HELL were they?  In the living room, arguing, about HIS infidelity toward her, and, they both thought, that we were asleep too, but, we weren’t, instead, we’d pulled, the covers UP over our young heads, and just, sobbed, gently, because we’re afraid, of our family, falling apart.

How we spent our childhood nights, fight hard, to keep those monsters underneath our beds, and inside our closets, LOCKED up, so they won’t come out, and SCARE the SHIT out of us, and, where the FUCK (and no, do NOT pardon me here!!!!) WERE those people who called themselves OUR “parents”???  Too busy, fighting about HIS infidelities toward her, that we got totally, IGNORED, and, we were, taken, by those god DAMN, scary-as-HELL monsters already!

How we spent our childhood nights, nobody knows, because, we’d all, worked too hard, to BLOCK those, long-ago memories, OUT of our god DAMN freakin’ minds, thinking, that if we don’t acknowledge what happened to us when we were younger, those EVIL things that actually happened, really didn’t happen, but, ARE you sure, that they NEVER happened?  Are you FUCKING shitting me here!!!