It was a dark and dimly lit hallway.
Dead light bulbs hadn't been changed in a long while, and the ones that remained were mostly older and looked like they were about to meet the same fate as their companions.
The carpeting was flattened and pulled up in places from careless passers-by. It had probably not been cleaned since it was first installed, and certain places were molding, matching the leaky water-spots in the ceiling above it.
The rooms that this hallway accessed were all back-doors to places that could have been anything. Walking through a doorway might transport you across the continent. It was always a chance he took.
The man expertly traversing the dirtier parts of the carpet looked like he didnt belong. Much older than his well-designed clothing, he had the suave, yet ruthless way of commanding attention when he appeared on the scene. No flashing accessories made him stand out, apart from his demeanor, yet he obviously knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do there.
He marched over to his chosen door and knocked sharply. It made rather little noise, considering how quiet the hallway always was. He waited a moment and then in a smooth, practiced movement, he pulled a single key from his vest pocket and opened the door.
The girl inside the room had heard his knock. She was waiting for him to force his way in, as he always did. No matter how many times she tried to change the lock, or move to a different building, he would somehow find her and weasel his way into the room she tried to hide in. Somehow, the rooms all looked the same when he came in. Bare, colorless, and almost sharp-edged. The color would shrink from the furnishings and the lights would fade, like he dimmed them with his sheer mind power. A general grey hue spread from the door as he pushed it open and engulfed the room. He didnt seem to notice as he greeted the girl with a sour smile and called her by name.
She didnt look up right away, focused sadly on the patch of floor he was standing on. When she looked up, her eyes were sad and voice tired.
"I thought you forgot about me. It has been a few months."
"How could I forget one of my favorites? I am your Old Standby, after all." His voice just as syrupy as his sneer.
Her voice was quavering when she managed to whisper out her reply:
"I was hoping you wouldnt come back."
He laughed in that terrible, heart-wrenching way of his. It struck fear into your very soul.
"There is no way you will ever be rid of me, dear," he growled as he strode across the room and glared down at her. He bent over and gripped her chin firmly and made her look into his eyes.
"You tried last time and remember how THAT turned out?"
He let go of her and her shoulders fell and she couldnt help but cry. It was true. No matter what she did the lurking shadow of Depression seemed to have access to her....
April 20, 2012
April 13, 2012
The Constant Loss
I had intended to write more last month. In fact, I had a lot planned, most of which got lost under the trampling footsteps of everydaylife.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
I have been working this week on 'getting over' some old issues (stuff never seems to go away, ALL the way). I was very worked up one night this week because I read through some things I wrote/said a long time ago. Somehow my mother got mixed up in all this and I spent a good bit of time very angry and crying.
Walls are very understanding and good listeners.
The things that is hitting me now is the constant feeling of loss. Total, complete, and overwhelming loss. As an MK, when you move, or change countries, or schools, or mission agencies, you lose precious things. People, places, memories, special pets, climates..... the list is long.
When you experience serious changes in yourself, or in your life, especially in my case, you lose again.
You lose friends and whole portions of the family get lopped off like an arm infected with gangrene.
You lose your position in society, or your connections, because vicious rumors get spread around (in my case, I apparently cuss like a sailor) and people assume they are true. All because you changed.
Loss is like a phantom arm (that got cut off because it was infected with gangrene). You can still feel it even years after it was removed. People and situations remind you of this constantly. I had a customer greet me with: "Howdy!" just this Tuesday. I asked him if he was from New York, and he had just gotten off a plane, he said. My mother often uses that, and whenever she talks with her relatives from up there we kids can tell. Linguistics is another thing of hers that some of us kids got. I can hear faint elongations of vowels and I have started a couple nice conversations asking people where they come from and about how people talk.
I get barraged every day with all kinds of families that pass through the store. Some obviously hate eachother; like the old couple where the husband pushed the wife's food aside in order to grab some silverware, or the wife being rude because her husband spilled some rice on the counter. The children who order expensive drinks because they can and the parents rolling their eyes and grumbling at the kids under their breath. Some obviously are trying: like the mom who stopped talking to me and informed her daughter that right now she was busy, but in a minute she would give her a fruit smoothie. The daughter was about 8 months old, so I dont know how much of the message she got, but it worked to keep her quiet another couple minutes.
I am continually seeing signs of hurt in the children, like the one daughter who spilled soup onto her lap. She started crying (of course) but her mother refused my help (and the paper towels I had) and scooped the hot soup back into a cup and told her daughter to stop crying and eat. I am remembering and hurting with these kids, and wishing I could do something for them. I also remember my parents treating my problems with equal nonchalant-ness and curtness.
People with money troubles who ask their parents or grandparents for help leave me remembering that I have to stay healthy and not make any mistakes because I have to take care of myself.
People who talk about their childhoods and favorite locations in Charlotte, cartoons, childhood friends, music, etc remind me that it would take about 2,000 dollars and a lot of time to go visit the place where I grew up.
People who talk negatively about 'foreigners' dont know it, but they remind me that I have lived more than half my life in a country that was NOT the USA.
I try not to dwell on it, I promise.
But sometimes it catches up to you. The total, overwhelming loss of so many things that are (or were) precious to you.
And loss is a problem that is not curable.
Stress you can cure with a hot shower, a massage, chocolate or other good-feeling-enhancing foods, and by talking or exercise.
Pain you can take care of by R&R or ibuprofen.
Sickness can be helped with a bit of garlic and perhaps a prescription.
Anger you can take out on a punching bag, a friend, your pillow, or with a good cry.
:Loss is something that is not fixed without going back in time and/or effort on the part of many people that would be the equivalent of pulling the Grand Canyon back together.
I understand that it is part of life and everyone deals with it in differing degrees and blah, blah...
Right now; I am dealing with long term, constant loss.
Give me some space to weep.
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