SEPTEMBER 10, 2020: “When Real Was Just 3 Doors Down” …

Dear Brad:

THIS credit is LONG overdue!

Thank you.

APRIL 8, 2008: “The Real Life” …

IMG_1471 ~ by The Phoenix Collaborative Project ~

THE REAL LIFE

I wanted to find somewhere to hide, and I opened up and left those fears inside. And I wanted to be anyone else, only to find that there was no one there but me. But I woke up to real life and I realized it’s not worth running from anymore. When there was nowhere left to hide I found out that nothing’s real here, but I wont stop now until I find a better part of me. I let those hard days get me down, and all the things I hate got in my way. I could have screamed without a sound, I found myself silenced by those things they say.  But I wont stop now until I find a better part of me that’s out there somewhere, and it cant be that far away. That’s where I’ll find myself, and I’ll find my way out. That’s where I’ll find out.  {3 Doors Down}

Well, perhaps actually penning the words to a complete and total stranger was the just the pin prick my heart valves needed to effect the slow release of toxins from my system. I mean, so much of what I wrote to her was true, but then again, so much of it was a lie! Everything about her and what I could gather from her story showed me that somehow, somewhere, there is a light at the end of every tunnel. Could it be that my resurection is much closer than I know? It truly feels as though I am getting a little closer to bridging that proverbial gap. My “surface level only” policy where relationships are concerned is fast becoming a sham and I desperately need to make the words therein my letter to her real. In the meantime, I’m still alive, though not-so-well here in my beautiful ivory tower as I continue my rule over a magical kingdom where everything appears to be perfect. “Queen Catherine The Perfect”; Perfect life, perfect family, perfect house, perfect car – perfectly happy, with all the perfect things that accompany my perfection. I’m the envy of every woman I know, covered in diamonds from head to toe, with a loving husband by my side at every turn (or so it seems). I play this perfect role so that my family remains happy and blissfully unscathed by the secrets in my past, and so the painful memories I have yet to leave behind don’t interfere with their lives in any way. Despite the seemingly perfect, bright and sunny existence I awaken to each morning, there’s a storm cloud hovering above that follows me everywhere I go. I’m beginning to think that maybe I haven’t cried enough these last 16 years and the “cloud” in my atmosphere is all those unshed tears. The storm is coming fast thoughI can feel it on my skin!  But will there be a rainbow afterwards?

It seems like only yesterday when a stranger took my innocence, and since that moment Fate has continued to rape me. It’s been just about a year since I entered that hospital, spirit broken, but body still somewhat whole. One week later I walked back out, leaving behind the last remnants of what once made me a woman. The physical scars that I wear now are now clear and tactile proof that I am nothing but an empty shell. These years were not imagined – they were real! At night sometimes I cry, grasping my pillow tightly so the precious baby girl sleeping beside me doesn’t hear. Then in morning I awake and prepare myself for the day that awaits and walk out of my bedroom an illusion. My children greet me with their glorious smiles, ignorant to my pain, and this is the way it is. Despite the seemingly outward perfection, my soul is hollow, and I feel alone, abandoned and sick, if not “a cancer” to the entirety of mankind. The mental camera in my head just can’t seem to help itself from constantly flipping back and forth through all the erosion, toxicity and filth inside my mind.

Each day that passes is drawing me closer to something spinning hopelessly out of control.  My day of reckoning is fast approaching and may be just around the corner. I can feel the ripples just beneath my skin as reality is boiling to the surface. The unrelenting knot in the pit of my stomach and heart is getting tighter with each day that passes and it’s getting harder for me to breath. I am shaking, anxious, and, oh yeah, a total fraud!  JUST OVER THERE I can see the front of that bridge, but how can I make my legs move across it? If I actually make it across, what there will I find? Are there secrets about myself and even my “seemingly perfect childhood” that are still yet for me to discover? We shall see. Dearest Catherine, “Queen Of Perfect”, surely you can perfect this dance.