What exactly does that mean? For me, it means that I cannot move one step ahead, one foot above, not even one step back. I am literally paralyzed. I don’t even feel like I could fall backwards into the abyss. No, I feel like my feet are planted in cement. I feel like my heart is as solid as stone. I feel like my brain is mush. I feel my emotions taking over but it’s like that movie “The Serpent and the Rainbow”, I can’t move and no one can see my consciousness. I’m screaming and no one can hear me. I’m crying inside but I can’t will those damn tears down my face so that someone, anyone can see them. I can’t move. I am completely overcome with helplessness and hopelessness. I am so sick of being here, in this emotional state. I feel like it’s “Groundhog’s day” everyday! Have you ever felt like that?
I was cleaning up over the weekend and came across a couple of letters that I wrote to my beloved. I’m not sure if they were ever delivered, only one was found with an envelope. They were so simple, yet poignant in their simplicity. I was taken back to the exact moments that I sat writing those letters, tears streaming down my face (both then and now). My doctor has asked me recently, “How long have you been unhappy? Or, better yet, can you tell me the last time that you were happy?” Happiness is relative, I know. But relatively speaking, I was stumped. I didn’t have an answer. Finding those letters dated well over a decade ago answered at least part of that question. It let me know that I have been in this perpetual state of emotional instability for over a decade. I do not cry for attention. In fact I would testify on a stack of bibles that not more that 6 people living today have ever seen me cry. My therapist has yet to see me cry. There was a formation of tears trying to will themselves out of my tear ducts during one extremely painful session, but alas, I held them back. Those tears are not for her. Those tears are not for him. Those tears are not for them. Those tears are not for you, dear reader. Those tears, these tears, are mine and mine alone.
I have been hurt so much in my life in such a short amount of time. I forgive those that helped facilitate my pain, but I never forget. I can’t. I own that pain. I can’t seem to let it go. I don’t remember the physical pain of a blow to the body or the dull pain from a forceful “fall” onto a hard floor. However, I do remember the hushed voices of adults using derogatory terms to describe a child (me). I remember the look on their faces when they intentionally hurt me. I remember the absence of humanity in their eyes. I remember the sting of their nasty words. I still feel their phlegmy saliva spat in my face. And what’s worse than all of those thoughts running rampant in my head? Well, you know I’m a photographer and I photograph EVERYTHING. So, when I come across pics that depict my injuries and/or the look of hurt and shame on my face, it takes me back to those moments in time. Like Michael Franks sings “The Camera Never Lies”. Sometimes in life, you can push your pain and hurt deep down inside yourself and even make yourself believe that whatever happened really wasn’t all that bad or perhaps you imagined the whole thing. But those pictures bring every little nuance back and you’re in that moment again. Paralyzed by fear…
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AFRICAN AMERICAN POLISH PRINCESS 