Tolerating is the same as Condoning.
Condoning out of a fear of being left alone. It was learned early on that control equaled respect.
Do as I say…Don’t backtalk…
Why not provide a reason?
Why not provide examples modeling proper argumentative styles to communicate effectively.
Is communication even taught in schools?
Why is this not in the core curriculum standards?
Sometimes the additional steps affect my progress in recovery
from an eating disorder I recently struggled to live through.
Rather than throw out Oaxaca cheese I brought you in July,
to allow for a small, segregated place
to house easy access food sources;
foods that had been premeditated
with the insight knowledge of my own triggers
and the behavior patterns that follow.
The garage smells like a 1970’s casino.
Just as the garage door cracks open,
the stench of nicotine from the lair permeates and surrounds me.
I am instantly engulfed into this gray ash
leaving me feeling like the ash lingering on the edge of a cigarette begging with anticipation and foreplay
to land,
crumble,
dissipate,
disappear
instantaneously.
I step through the film to the fridge triggering
with taunting rotted food,
unwiped,
unkept,
neglected from care,
mocking the amount of care put into
growing,
manufacturing,
and providing,
accepting its fate as stored and forgotten trash.
I take a quick glance back at the door.
I run the risk of being locked in the garage by the automatic door lock I do not know the code for,
thus leaving me only the option of
banging on the door
TRIGGER
and yelling for someone to let me out
TRIGGER
or rather let me in
TRIGGER.
Waiting, like the aforementioned ash,
my eyes lock on to the doggie door
primarily utilized as a cat door
– fun fact – it was a cat who in fact
taught the dog how to use it.
Used for years as my primary mode of entrance. Simply use the code for the outside garage door,
then crawl through the kitty/doggy door
…unless it too was locked.
Then I arrive back to the starting point of options – lingering like the aforementioned ash.
Ah – another option – the side door.
The door I am envious of
as the last few garages attached to homes;
I have resided in have lacked this accessibility gem.
This was the door leading to the area
where many of us gathered
as though we were having the festive feast
in that small space,
sharing community face to face.
This option, however, would require agile maneuvering
past the coffee cups loaded with ash
and overflowing with filters
and last drags never had.
Anything of holding capacity
is eligible to receive this fine ash
and stake claim to its new identity of ashtray.
Garbage cans filled with trash,
newspapers scattered
throwing out history,
saving to peruse more,
the sale ads.
I am now led to a canine interaction.
The smell and their sifting and shuffling toenails on the metal floors of their cages had already wafted me
the way my brother would waft me growing up. Never could I walk by him without the alerting stance
caused by deep fear,
intensity,
anxiousness,
heart beating too fast,
I walk past and waft-the brutal taunting slap across the back of my head.
Knot in my head-Is that a familiar phrase? Was it yet another amusing mockable tale?
Does anyone recall? At all?
These days knots in my head are simply cut out.
Immobile.
There was a time I could not get up and walk about,
a time due to my lungs
and a time due to my doubt.
Aching is all I felt.
Until I made a vow to conquer the cage that imprisoned me, keeping me down.
I knew once out I would end the drought.
An animal is an animal whether they walk on all four or upright on two.
I can hardly call some two-legged creatures ‘upright’
as if it were to refer to a compliment or term of endearment.
These creatures have a much lower status than that
for they are those who keep the cages closed.
Take away opportunity and choice, sooner or later develops foam at the mouth.
I heard a scream familiar to one heard before. I have an acute awareness
after witnessing such experiences as
a stuffed animal massacre,
dismissed as laughable
valentine card destruction
mocked-I should have known better,
a canine ripping through me
to attack the neighbor
who would through the window,
taunt and instigate.
I too know how that feels.
In my human mind of judgement thinks
perhaps this was in fact,
God providing a lesson.
A shriek jolted my already alert sensations –
emotionally spent as I face yet another new direction,
I ran to open the door to the lair
where there I witness
a frantic and assertive fight to return a dog to his cage
that dog breathed the feeling of ‘out’.
The shriek still curls in my ear, she screams of the “stuff” getting ‘messed up’ and destroyed.
The other shrills justification
“He was just trying to get to her”,
her being the one in the cage next to him.
The one who emits pheromones
recently cycled
he has remained next to
and felt
and begun to crave.
Parts of this event put the infamous Cullen family in my thoughts.
Unfamiliar? Think Twilight-Edward the vampire and Bella the teenage girl with a monthly cycle.
Proactively speaking, if her flow were heavy enough to affect poor Edward from his attendance,
when the remaining high school girls did not,
there ought to have been a follow up PSA (public service announcement)
to direct girls to proper medical care.
And to add to that reality ticker…what girl would be at school with a flow that heavy?
You know she has done this before.
What has been different between those events and the events leading up?
In my experience, waiting in anticipation for an enjoyed activity
creates an inner craving, not just for the activity but for the bond or connection it will provide.
To have no power or control or say as to when this activity is taken away –
To one with cognitive reasoning deficiencies, it feels punitive.
Reason given or not, this factor will NOT absorb in the mindset of this individual.
How does one without a voice scream for help?
Now imagine an individual who cannot think through the fog.
Driving the back woods of Georgia when the dew has fallen,
and fog is so heavy the clouds cover the yellow lines intended to guide.
Trying to best perceive where the middle of the lane is
or where the oncoming vehicles lane is…
and can they even see me through the fog?
Warmth is needed.
Warmth clears fog.
The fog is yet another cage.
Trapped caged animal wagging its tail for the gatekeeper.
“Not my dogs!” bellows oud from the voice being blamed.
“It’s not my dog!” “She won’t let them run around the yard!”
An evening of special purpose.
Incidents and circumstances and situations and degradations were never brought to light.
Silly fungi brough it all out.
Research seeking catharsis,
a success without a doubt.
Truth-you are both accountable and responsible for what you are aware of.
Increase this when it is also under your roof.
My boundary was expressed.
Abuse tolerated is abuse condoned.
Why is abuse looked away from?
And WHY does a voice ever
SILENCE when
PROTECTION is NEEDED,
EXPECTED
PROMISED
DEDICATED?
Detaching does not protect; it is not the safe way out.
