14 March 2009



note to self: can’t get there from here!




“kate, what the hell is wrong with that kid?”
“who knows,bob? – just who the hell knows anymore anyway??? – he’s just off in his head again – don’t pay any attention to him!!!”
brad was off in la-la land again --- his sister loved to tell people shit like that when he was caught up in his head and soooo removed from all the folks around him – she also said that he wasn’t wrapped too tight, that he was many few facets short of a good cut diamond, and all the rest of that crap that nine year olds spout off about before someone puts the brakes on their yap ---
today his uncle had said to him - and not for the first time - that he should have gone the way of his older brother and wrapped his cord around his neck before he landed on deck --- something that would have suited him straight down to his socks reverberated in his brain with an unending and irritating boing! boing! boing! --- they say you can never go back, but what if i could??? --- wonder if i would? – maybe a do-over wasn’t such a bad idea when you got right down to it!!! – maybe i could use that cord after all --- what a bittersweet idea!
he had no real memory of being as yet unborn – but some things he knew just as sure as he knew that stephen king was creepy – he knew that he should have done as his uncle said, he knew that his folks were not parent material, and he knew that by the time his little twirp of a sister was his age, eighteen, that she’d be off in her screwed up head, too!!!
secrets were as much a part of gestation as growing fingernails - that was one thing he knew even if he couldn’t vividly recall any of that time – when he rambled around in his head it cemented certain thoughts that became increasingly upsetting, thoughts that now were kept under a veil of secrecy as well and drove him starkers!!! --- it was supposed to be safe and warm as you lay there curled in innocence and becoming increasingly cramped for space – but he knew it couldn’t possibly have been a secure harbour – he tried to talk to his “mother” about the pregnancy and his early years – no satisfaction there – she cooly told him him he had coloured on the blinds and cost her a shitload of money – that the pregnancy brought more trouble to an already troubled marriage --- GAWD!!! – she had so many ways of making herself his victim and he hated it – he was her victim all along – why couldn’t she wrap her head around it???
he was at the mercy of her moods from the moment he was a fertilized ovum – what tipped her canoe threw him into a chemical storm against which he was defenseless with what had to be overdoses of adrenalin and god only knew what other hormones and chemicals --- by the time he stupidly let himself get popped out alive he was such a sensitive wreck that everything set him off – still at the mercy of her chemical maelstroms and their fallout, he had been an infant who was extremely high strung – coupled with a mother who lacked the skill set to be what he needed, things just went from bad to worse day by day, year by year, until here he was bouncing around in his own head again like a berserk mexican jumping bean ---
a part of him “got it” and realized she couldn’t offer what she never had – a much bigger part was filled with resentment and anger and sadness even after an epiphany of insight – and it was the sadness of it all that prevailed when he went off in his head - a sadness he could no longer bear ---
he had been doodling mindlessly on a writing pad and without warning he discovered that he had done more than doodled, he had written --- he guessed it would do, because regardless of what he wrote, they’d never get it in the end anyway –



as yet unborn with a top secret life
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of secrecy
overcome by chemical vagaries of
maternal mood and influence

born unvolitionally - overly sensitive
no available boundaries
just the innate skill of survival
overcome by the unskilled caregiver
maternal mood and influence

growing up – withdrawn and awkward
no available boundaries
just the innate knowledge
to be seen and not heard
maternal mood and influence




he cried - oh shit! how he cried!!! - and he rifled in his closet for the cord he needed ---

12 comments:

anthonynorth said...

That was most original - and deep.

New Prompt & Prompt News Post

Tumblewords: said...

Well done - lots to think about -

Jay said...

Powerful stuff! I liked it.

What we do to our kids, huh? Sometimes - you're right - it is out of our control. Some of us try, a lot don't.

In the end our lives are ultimately in our own hands of course. And some of us try. Some of us don't.

Jay said...

Oh, by the way. That link won't take you to my Sunday Scribbling contribution. I need to add that to my redirection page.

You'll need to go to http://www.fiction.thedeppeffect.com or use Sunday Scribbling's Mr Linky. :)

TJ said...

growing up – withdrawn and awkward
no available boundaries
just the innate knowledge
to be seen and not heard
maternal mood and influence

WOW!

UNPLUGGED!
TJ

Tanya Gwen Minnick said...

wow- great writing kiddo- you always blow me away with your stories.
great work!
t

americanising desi said...

may i also say i was blown off my seat :) at least for teh moment i read you!
well done!

Tammy said...

That was so moving Danni. Well done!

present said...

I love the discovery of the unconscious doodle and this, "still at the mercy of her chemical maelstroms and their fallout, he had been an infant who was extremely high strung – coupled with a mother who lacked the skill set to be what he needed," ..." until here he was bouncing around in his own head again like a berserk mexican jumping bean ---"
Reading this makes me think my own daughter could/would relate to the story's reference to unborn, born and growing up influences of her mother's (intentional or not)"chemical maelstroms".
Great post danni! Honest and true.

Beth said...

Thank you for visiting! Your post is very moving and evocative of the hurt family comments can bring, especially when boundaries are not respected and in those vulnerable times when we don't understand ourselves. I loved the poem and found it so powerful. But I still hoped for a happier resolution, that we're not doomed to live out the expectations of others.

Giggles said...

Danni,Wow this was an amazing piece of writing...right to the heart of the issue. You always use the best metaphors. Such a skilled writer. Sadly I suspect the mother is a narcissistic bipolar... so deeply sad this tale of abuse.
"puts the brakes on their yap "
"secrets were as much a part of gestation as growing fingernails" "what tipped her canoe threw him into a chemical storm"

You have such a gift of getting the point across...when is your book coming out??? If you haven't started....get crackin!! Love your writing...truly!

Hugs Giggles

missalister said...

Super-powerful writing and message! There was a delightful abundance of really slick word combinations, as others here noticed, too.

I love the kind of attention you gave to the overarching concept that the womb is not necessarily the peaceful place it’s touted to be, such that one could emerge "a sensitive wreck" with a lifetime of trials, tribulations and secrets already.

And I like the parallel I found myself drawing between the womb and the head, going there, floating around in there, to work things out as one might have floated and worked things out in the womb; and this, on top of battling all manner of chemicals, natural and otherwise, and being in that interchangeable place aware of making life and death choices.

This is a lot of really great, hot stuff, and your treatment of it—fast-moving, entertaining, intelligent—was exceptional and so enjoyable!

An A+++ from Miss A!