Silent Cave Mode

I’ve spoken about Silence and I not being friends before. Silence scares me. I’m the type of girl that has the radio, TV, ipod and microwave going all at once, just so that the silence is shut out. Silence is scary. It makes you think. Thinking is dangerous for my health. It’s easier to be busy and distracted than it is to sit in a corner and wallow…

Once upon a time there was a girl.

She grew up way faster than she should have. Despite going through various different stages of challenges in her childhood, and abuse later in a relationship, she became a survivor instead of a victim. It was a good thing she had skin as thick as two planks, because she could’ve been dangerously close to suicide in the really bad times.

Then she fell pregnant & her baby girl kept her going for a long time, having someone else to take care of was easier than taking care of herself.

But then that baby died, and she nearly wanted to die too.

She became reclusive, staying at home instead of being with her friends, lying to her family, just to be alone. Having the curtains drawn 24hours a day in a room that had locks on the doors and windows, just so no one could get in, this provided her a solace she had never known. This was her safe place, her freedom, her cave mode. A place where no one could get in to hurt her, yet the demons from before would never be allowed to get out & escape this way either. A catch 22 situation. Never good for anybody.

One day, while watching a documentary on TV – something macabre made her laugh. Something so disgusting and cruel and she laughed. And couldn’t stop laughing. Her family looked at her as if she had finally cracked after 6 months of being an absolute zombie. She just couldn’t stop laughing. I think she had to laugh, because if she didn’t, that would mean she’d cry, and to cry admits defeat, finality, end, death. She couldn’t accept death. Death would not do.

She wakes up from a dream she can’t remember, except for a voice telling her it was ok to forget, to forgive, to cry. To mourn. Finally, she weeps. Bucket loads. It was to be her baby’s first birthday, and instead of blowing out candles, she was blowing her nose. A friend arrives with cake as a good gesture, and instead of feeling grateful, she feels ill. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

To her hearts content, she empties it all out and never once takes a second to think about how she shouldn’t, couldn’t do this. It wasn’t her. She lay in bed at night and practiced being unbrave. During the day she was numb. Numb was safe. But Safe was dull though, and no matter how hurt and angry this girl was, she was not, and would never be, dull.

It took a while for anybody to break her shell, and when she finally did let someone in, he hurt her too. She lost a best friend, boyfriend, lover and partner all in one person, all in one day. He lied to her heart, he robbed her soul, he killed her trust. All in a moment, her life as she knew it, changed. She changed.

Eventually, though, she decided enough was enough. Enough emptiness. She got out of bed, got a job, went out for a coffee, saw a movie, went home and smiled in the mirror.

I’m proud of that girl. I’m proud she had the balls to get up and live again. I’m proud that she laughs again.

I’m even prouder to call her me.