Exhaustive Time Out

I have been struggling with who I am and the things I have done to others. I can say, "Well, it was the alcohol and the drugs."

That would be a lie, and it is uncomfortable to sit with the realization that it is who I am capable of being sober or not. I am me and I am bits and pieces of those who have harmed me. I've gathered my own toxicity along the way.

When I was a little girl, I would put myself in time out when I felt I had done something wrong. I'd be way ahead of the adults in my life, maybe as means of survival or avoidance of the wrath that would surely rain down on me. I'd head to my time out chair, my bedroom, or the closet. I'd punish myself.

Is that what I'm doing now? Have I put myself in time out for being with monsters and being a monster myself? When can I come out?

Most days I don't want to return to society, but then I have these moments of heavy loneliness. My therapist has been trying to teach me about intuition and trusting myself, while also stating that I have a negative outlook on others. Who is left to trust when those who were supposed to protect you instead harmed you? Where can I turn when those I have loved and been completely devoted to, have manipulated that love and devotion?

That struggle has entered into my recovery. There is a correlation between substance abuse and Narcissism/Sociopathic tendencies. There are manipulators, users, and predators in the room. They've replaced alcohol and drugs with people. They appreciate the hierarchy (which we are gaslit about the existence of). They find a usefulness in a system put in place by white men for white men. It is in the language of everything we are supposed to read and devote ourselves too. For obvious reasons, I withhold that devotion. I've been there before, many times.

I wish there were a different way to find healing within recovery. A way that doesn't involve placing myself back in the very cage that causes harm.

As I come closer to reaching one year without alcohol, I can honestly say coming back from my relapse has been hard the entire way. I wish I had never picked up that drink in June of 2022. This time around I am unwinding myself from programming that began the moment I took my first cry in this world. It has involved a lot of pain, anger, frustration, and sitting in the discomfort -no matter what-.

So yes, I suppose I am in a self-enforced time out, because not only do I not trust others, but I also do not trust myself.

Get Out of Me

I signed the invisible contract of his
In small writing it read that my hair was too wild.
He hated it frizzy.
Flannels were meant for donation and not for wearing.
I wasn't in the world to make friends.
I wasn't funny anyway.
My laugh must be quiet or not at all.
I give people headaches.
My taste in music must not be shared.
I sing the same 5 songs, oh come what may?
My writing wasn't real so that must be halted immediately.
I swallowed my words until they exploded within me.
I was to be grateful he chose me.
I couldn't show I questioned him choosing me.
I wasn't like the other ones.
Was I pretty enough, or just enough mystery?
I would look forward to saying yes.
No must mean yes.
My voice became silence with no remedy.
I must give up my happy thoughts;
Turn them all into a future enemy.
I can't feel energy.
I can't move freely.
Repeat the cycle unquestioningly,
Tell my therapist it is me who is not thinking clearly.
Choking meant love,
bruising meant joking and loyalty.
I could be part of the family, but not be the family.
I was an odd duck in a room full of heavy dishonesty.
The monster was allowed to devour me.
I must say thank you and sit on the couch.
Accepting my crazy identity.

Tory Talbot Hall

We were sitting outside of your mom's back door drinking beer. You had somehow convinced me that you'd finally accepted we would "just be friends" so I came over to hang out. It had been a bit since I had pulled away. I remember laughing and joking, and me asking you where your other friends were. You had said you'd be having some friends over, yet I was still the only one there.

You texted some people and they started showing up not very long after. Were they ever actually coming? When did they leave? How did you get me into your room? A room you normally shared with your little brother.

I'm still confused about what I drank and how I ended up so completely lost on time and location of my body. Was it the beer? How many did I have? I don't remember having that many. Did you convince me to take a shot? Or was that another night? How did you get me into your room? Your little brother was at your dad's house that night.

How long did it take for you to undo my pants and start touching me? Was it before or after you began touching yourself? How long had you been touching me before I woke up? Did you expect that? Did you think I'd find the strength to stand then stumble my way down your hall?

The note on my car, when I was home. The roses on my car, when I was at work. Did you watch me? Plotting until you could make me yours.

Why were you so worried about me waking your mom up? Would she have been so easily able to explain this away if she had seen me? Does she still explain you away?

You tried to cry. Were you aiming to confuse me further? Making me think you cared about me, and that I had it all wrong? You were the victim after all; things with me were different and you just wished I could see that. Why can't the girls you love ever see that? Those things you would say about her too. Did you rape her? How many times have you done this since?