Monday, December 7, 2015

Safe Place

When I was a little girl, I had an irrational fear that someone would shoot me through my bedroom window. I have no idea what precipitated this fear, some combination of movies and neighborhood violence and my always overactive imagination. But in my mind, this was something I needed to be deeply concerned with. And concerned I was. There was no amount of reassurance, no house alarm or locked door or drawn curtain that could convince me I was safe.

And so, every night once my mama turned my light off, I’d create a wall of stuffed animals between me and the window to all my worries, pulling myself as closely as I possibly could to the wall, stacking rows and rows of stuffed animals between me and whatever evil might befall me. As I grew, it distressed me that I no longer had enough stuffed animals to properly insulate my lengthening body, and so I hoarded new ones whenever I could. And when that didn’t work, I took to just protecting what I figured were my most important places- my head, my heart- because I figured if I was hurt anywhere else it wouldn’t be pleasant, but I could survive that.

Figuring out how I was going to survive on my own was an early fixation of mine.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if I stop moving I'll fall apart.

So, I don't.