The Place She Used To Hide Out

The Place She Used To Hide Out

There used to be a time when her bedroom was the the place where she used to hide out.  It was her sanctuary, her reading nook, her place to regroup and to escape all of the bullshit that life had thrown her way throughout the day, the week, the month.  She knew that no matter how hard work was that day, when she got home; she could count on going upstairs, kicking off her heels, shedding her bra, putting on her most comfortable muumuu and closing the door to her inner sanctum.

There used to be a time when she could enter her room on a Friday night, and not leave it for the whole weekend.  She had an attached bathroom, so there was no need for her to leave.  She could order food to be delivered, or have someone just bring her a plate from downstairs.  That was a benefit of having older children.  Sometimes, her room would even be the place where her children chose to hide out.  And she didn’t mind that.  Her children seemed to love the peace that the room brought them just as much as she did.  She could be laying in bed, and one or both of them would come in, light an incense and just curl up on the bed with her.  Content to wrap an arm around her leg, or rest the head on her arm.  Or they would meet her at the door after she got home from work, with mischievous smiles on their faces, holding a giant Walmart bag of junk food...letting her know it was going to be “Girls night in Mummy’s bed”.   And they would all curl up in their pajamas, eating their favorite ice cream out of the cartons, watching trash tv and eating ridiculous amounts of candy until they all fell asleep still laughing. 

After the tragedy, the bed became the place she hid out for different reasons.  She didn’t want to face the world.  Couldn’t face them.  She hid out in her room, hoping to disappear forever.  But her friends wouldn’t allow her to do that.  Tiffany and Tee would sit quietly by the side of her bed, watching over her.  Nobody spoke the words, but they didn’t have to.  They wanted to make sure that she didn’t hurt herself.  She said no words.  Just rocked herself in between fits of crying.  Eventually, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.  Tiffany and Tee turned into Michelle and Mani.  Michelle became the Mother she had so needed her own to be in her life.   She dedicated herself to being a daughter and a sister.  And then…..tragedy.

And after tragedy, heartache, anger, hurt, confusion.  And then a new life.  And suddenly, the place she used to hang out became a place for new life.  There was no way to hide out anymore.  There was this beautiful new life that needed her and smiled when she was tired and ready to give up.  And then there were two new lives.  And the place that she used to hide out was no longer her place anymore.  Now the two new lives had taken over the place.  Now there were some nights, she would actually get up and go to sleep in the living room, just to have a few moments of quiet time to herself.

And then the final straw.  She was finally happy again.  Living in a brand new place.  Loving the new space that she could call her place to hide out.  And then she was attacked.  In that space.  Violated in the space that she needed to feel like she could go to be in her sanctuary.  And she was destroyed all over again.  But this time, it was temporary.  She worked through it, reclaimed her space, rearranged spaces and renamed it.  And now it is “The Place She Calls Her Sanctuary” and “A Place of Love”.