Honey Bee

the thing is. i chose wrong more than once. when you have been _____ed, you are told that you are attracted to the pattern that has already wounded you. coyote, you mistake the snare for a tree swing. you love it, don’t you? you feel comfortable with the burning, because you understand it better than peace.

the first time it happens, others are sympathetic. sometimes the second time too - you were young, you didn’t know _____ could shift and wear different clothes. you didn’t know gender has nothing to do with it. you didn’t know that ____ers can wear foxskin and sheepwool equally. they have no singular shape; shadow puppets on the cave wall, joyful and cackling.

but you can’t mess up too much. you can’t keep choosing the wrong person - after a certain point, aren’t you the problem? didn’t you learn your lesson? why spend all that time and money on therapy if you never really meant to listen?

here’s something i just learned: you can make the same mistake twice. you can make it as many times as you need to. you can hit rock bottom over and over and over and over. in that space, you see yourself in the mirror - are you there again? are you slipping? my therapist tells me not all experiences are lessons. sometimes, people are just cruel.

i knew something had gone rotten and i sat on my hands. if i stayed very-still, i could get away with it. i used to drive over to her house with a specific playlist, my brain in a mantra - today we’ll have a good day and i’ll behave and we won’t get into an argument. i promised myself i would just never bring up any of the eggshell conversations and i would remember to not talk too much and i would control all of my reactions. i would be so wonderful as to never stir her ire. she would love me again, full and entire.

the first ______ relationship i was in happened four years before i even met her. it ended up being a major plot in my book. my father read a draft the other day. he wrinkled his nose while eating a grape. “raquel, i want to feel sad for your experience, but you did stay. how am i, the audience, supposed to feel bad for a choice that you repeatedly made?”

what a good question. i’m still looking for the answer down a well. i’m still looking for the answer in lighterfluid. i’m worried the answer has already been spoken and i just can’t look at the letters or shape. i’m worried that the answer is already painted directly into my DNA.

but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.

you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.

and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.

you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?