Lockdown

I've gone back and forth on whether I should write what I'm about to on my blog tonight, or whether I should just type it in my personal files. I'm still unsure, but here goes...

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In the movie "The Brave One" with Jodie Foster, there's a scene where a kid was asked to describe what she looked like, since they were on a subway together and two guys were later murdered just before the kid got off at a stop. He said to the sketch artist at the police station, "Oh, wait. There's one thing I remember. She was on lockdown." Then it cuts to the scene showing her and she is stoic, staring ahead, without feeling.

Throughout the movie she struggles with and talks about how there is this "stranger within" her, how she can't go back to who she was before the incident where she and her fiance were brutally attacked and he was killed. In the movie, she also says to her fiance--with great anguish--as she imagines him still in their apartment, "You left a hole in me!"

This movie, the character's sentiments and these specific scenes resonate with me. Especially now. I feel like I, too, am in lockdown mode.

I haven't had my fiance murdered, nor have I taken up arms and started killing people in cold blood. But I get the feeling she experiences of tremendous loss, of not knowing how to identify with the rest of the world, and wanting to avenge something to address the "hole" in my heart.

When I go to my church--which is a wonderful church full of good and kind people--I immediately go into extreme lockdown mode. I have been in this mode at church for several months--I've lost track of the time. People say "hi" and ask how I'm doing. It's all I can do to keep that pasted smile on my face and say "fine" and just keep it to that and ask them how they are.

I do this because I can't bear the pain...I can't bear the pain of people trying to get close to me when they have no f*cking clue what I'm going through. I know that they care. But when someone asks, "How are you?", I don't feel like I can honestly divulge all the sh*t in my life because it would just leave them (a) with their mouths hanging open and thinking--but not saying--"Holy sh*t!", or (b) giving me that condescending look of concern and saying, "Wow, I'm so sorry. I'll be praying for you. That must be tough."

There's a single dad at my church who has--as I've only come to realize within the past several months--been interested in and pursuing me for a few years now. (I have absolutely no interest in him. He's nice, but not my type at all.) Today he asked me a simple enough question, "So, Amira, you ever take your kids to the movies?" Again, it's a simple question, it's small talk, there's nothing wrong with what he asked. But so many people go about their lives doing what they do, paying for things without worry, purchasing without a second thought--like going to see a movie. People who lead "normal" lives. My real answer in my head to him was, "No, J___. I struggle with trying to figure out how I'm going to buy shampoo or soap or toilet paper on a weekly basis. I haven't been to see a movie in the theater for about a year. I try not to talk about any of this to my kids and even though my daughter is sitting right here next to me, and she begs me every single day to go do something fun that other people take their kids to do, I have to stuff it inside and tell her, 'Another time, sweetie', and hope that she doesn't get anxious about money after I say that because she's so consumed by and talks about how poor we are, when I strive not to give that message to her."

My out loud answer to him? "No, we usually rent movies from the library and watch them at home." And I smile that smile I've become so good at.

Lockdown mode. It's a survival technique. It's something learned when you're trying to guard yourself against the dam of emotions breaking.

Another family at church today announced their very good news: the husband had been falsely accused of white collar crimes five years ago. They have been through the ringer, the husband and wife, this whole time...miscarriage, their son diagnosed with autism, unemployment, in and out of court and him risking imprisonment, financial drama...Two weeks ago, the husband was acquitted of the charges and he is finally free. It was, indeed, very good news and worthy of great praise and celebration. The wife is a former friend of mine. I was grateful for them, truly I was. But I couldn't help but feel wistful.

And then there are all those people who have gone through pain and difficulty in intimate relationships that ended in divorce, abuse, separations, break-up's, you name it. Those same people are now in amazing and loving relationships and they are thriving, happy, flourishing. And I, again, am wistful. Genuinely happy for them, but wondering, Will I ever know the same?

I fully realize that in putting my hand out in "Stop!" mode, and keeping people at a distance as well as hopes and dreams, I don't lessen my pain. That is my intent. It does not mean I am succeeding at it.

What I am really attempting to accomplish is to protect myself: I don't want to let anything in that might mess with the system...cause a fuss...create a greater clusterf*ck. I don't want to feel something that may just slip right through my fingers again...as has happened with intimate relationships, as has happened with the desire to know what it is to be a family, or to know financial security...all these things that I once tasted ever so briefly, and then had the decadent plate and even the fork yanked away from me. I see others now, with these things, and I feel like the observer--watching, but never knowing. Like a homeless person walking by a restaurant and seeing the opulently dressed patrons inside, eating, laughing, without any cares, and knowing that he or she can only watch.

Loss is a sentiment--an experience--I am all too familiar with. Loss of love, loss of relationships, loss of control...what does one DO with constant loss? How does one NOT grieve continually? How does one take each day and say, "Yes, I have lost. Now I WILL find joy even in the midst of it."

I know this is my challenge--to find the joy in this life as it is. Things--hopefully--will get better. Hopefully, I will know love again, as well as financial security, lasting happiness, and even physical health. The dreams are not dead, nor are my desires. Do I genuinely believe that I can and will receive all of these good things? Yes, I do believe. Do I believe that I am worthy of receiving them from Him? Some days I do, some days it is a struggle to believe.

But sometimes, I do go into lockdown mode. Just to get through a moment, a day or a week.