In memory of Jill D Ponto-Milller
Falling
I come out of an unremembered dream with a start, eyes opened, ambient light coming in from the corners of the closed curtains.
I let my fingers feel the texture of the sheets, coming out of a partial paralysis and aware – I AM AWAKE. God damn this life. It holds me captive, a prisoner, destined to relive every single new day just like the one before and the one to come.
Try as I might, to end this cycle and close my eyes one last time, move on to the other side where everything is peaceful and happy, with no more desperate attempts at trying to fit in, be normal, be happy, be satisfied, feel whole, understood, loved… I keep losing the battle and wake up from dreams just to begin again, breathing and pretending to be okay in this nightmare.
Yes, my family loves me; some would say they love me, but they do not necessarily like me. I have always felt like the black sheep of the family and, often, among friends.
They think I am doing fine.
They think I am strong. So they lay their problems at my feet or on my shoulders, unaware that I trip over my own problems. The weight of my troubles are too heavy to carry. Yes, go ahead and lay your problems down and make it more impossible for me to break through my own troubled thoughts and, while you are at it, place your sadness and negative feelings upon my shoulders, I’m sure I can balance it with my own selfish feelings of inadequacy.
Sometimes the negativity laid upon my shoulders gets so high that it blocks out the light and I find myself walking around blind, feeling my way, hoping to find some light.
Sometimes, I am not blinded by the problems circling my head, but by closing my eyes against the light. You see, the light hurts my eyes, hurts my head, hurts my heart, hurts my soul, is too painful to feel… I am falling… falling down a dark hole. I feel safe here. I sometimes feel afraid, but I still safer here than up there, in the light. I understand the contradiction so well, but how else can I explain the duality of my existence?
I fear losing my soul somewhere in the darkness. I don’t want to lose my soul, I just don’t want to feel anything anymore. Life is painful. Opening my eyes each morning is absolute torture and it is tearing my mind into splintered piece that cut like shards of broken glass. My thoughts flow in and out of brain matter; thickened blood hardening like cement around each synapse making it harder and harder to think. I wonder if there is a place where I can keep my soul safe from harm. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. Can I separate one from the other? God knows, I try.
There is another kind of dark hole, and if you aren’t careful, you could find yourself falling through and into that horrible abyss. I can only describe it as a blackness so black that it sucks the breath out of you. You cannot cry or scream. The air is so stagnant that it feels like everything is closing in on you and you begin to feel this intense sense of claustrophobia. No matter how much you claw and fight to climb up and out of it, your efforts are for naught. The blackness will have its way with you and then spit you out, back into this place, this realm, this miserable life.
I fear there is no place I can go to escape the hauntings inside of my mind.
On good days, I can see her.
There is another me, or a part of me, that exists inside of here, inside of this body, this mind. She is happy. She is self-assured and confident. She loves herself, so she does not need anyone else to love her. She is open to being loved, but it isn’t necessary for her to feel gratitude for this life.
I see her in my dreams and sometimes, when I am awake.
I like her. Every night I think, she is everything I hope to be if I ever wake up again. Will I wake up? Will I be able to find her there in the light?
I look for her. Where are they hiding her? Why can I hear her calling my name, but I cannot find her?
Will this be a good day? I sure hope so. I don’t think I can bear another bad day. I am tired of fighting the monsters and losing. I am worn out from running from that black-ink hole that will erase me by covering me in that sick fluid until I blend in with the rest of the souls hidden there. We become part of the abyss. Again, I begin clawing and fighting to climb back to the light. Again, it swallows me and spits what remains of me back out into the light, back into this… life.
I cry myself to sleep. Please, no more pain. Life here feels like hot coals burning inside my veins, the smoke begins to escape through my pores until it is so thick that it burns the cornea of my eyes and suffocates me. I surrender. I have no control.
That’s when I hear her calling my name.
“I’m here!”, I cough out as loudly as I am able. “Help me! I’m here!”
I feel her wrap herself around me and lift me, like we are flying, upward… upward, back into life. No more hot coals boiling my blood. No more sulfuric smoke to choke me, just this colorful, beautiful radiance of light.
I turn to see her, but she is not here. Where in this hell do they keep her? Why does she hide?
I struggle to rise off the bed and stagger into the bathroom where I look into the mirror. My hair, a tangled mess of knotted snakes create a frightening contrast against this pale freckled face. This face was once a happy child, filled with sunshine and laughter. When did it become so disillusioned and sad?
It wasn’t her fault.
Then who is to blame?
Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of her. There she is, closer, closer, until I can see her standing right behind me, looking in to my eyes as if she can see the damage done.
All masks are removed. I am laid bare. She sees through me and I can see through her. Closer. Closer, she comes – until she becomes me, and I am her.
A tear escapes from my eye and runs down my face before it falls into the sink and down the drain, then another and another. I am numb as I watch each tear circle the drain before falling… falling… falling into that endless abyss.
I hear her say to me, “Your nightmares are my dreams and my dreams are your nightmares.”
I answer her, “Then, let’s promise to never lose our way.”
I turn and float back into my bed, lay my head on the pillow, unaware of its softness caressing my face and I pull the sheet up to my face to dry the remainder of tears that have miraculously stopped now. “Promise, we will never lose our way. I am ready now.”
She wraps her arms around me and surrounds me in a rainbow prism of light.
I close my eyes.
Falling…
falling,
falling,
falling,
falling!
down a dark hole.
Losing…
losing,
losing,
losing,
losing,
pieces of my soul.
Down,
spiraling down,
down,
down,
into this –
this abyss.
No handholds…
No footholds,
nothing to stop this clawing,
screaming dark hole drop…
No awakenings…
no quakenings,
nothing to stop this freefall dreaming,
screaming…
STOP!
Thought I understood,
calling,
calling
calling –
what did I miss?
Lost my way,
lost my mind,
lost my footing,
falling,
falling,
falling,
deeper.
Will I ever wake up?
ever find...
…searching,
searching,
searching –
where do they keep her?
My blood steams
on charcoal…
Eyes streaming
on red smoke rising.
Sunset…
smothers in Samhain's
damp bowl,
All sizzle,
Cornea drizzle.
These bad dreams,
the title role…
their scheming,
choked uprising
Unable to breathe and then,
no control
became too much
I felt her touch…
And flinched.
then punched her backward,
steady stead.
Fly me away now,
chariot,
sweet poison berries.
This lifeless trench.
My reflex awkward
in my head
I simply don’t know how
to forget… and,
cheat chosen paries.
Salve her with succor?
Or roughen her with suagaro?
Worthy slut or holy crow?
Heal her in her sleep
toughen her,
teach her to weep,
nothing clear cut,
nothing left to know.
The image looking
into my eyes,
wears no mask,
no disguise.
I am in her and she in me,
this is how it's meant to be.
My dream is your nightmare
and yours is mine.
Let us not lose our way again,
never again cross
that line.
Collaboration with Jill D Ponto-Miller and M Teresa Clayton.
Suicide Hotline: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Phone Number
1-800-273-8255
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