Just when I thought it could not possibly get any worse, boom, there it is. My bedroom, once my sanctuary is no longer. Unbelievably they have managed to squeeze their poisonous tentacles through the cracks and crevices of my cream-colored door and cause havoc from within.
More so than usual that is.
I have been met with another ultimatum slash rule. I am no longer warranted to switch on my pretty smoke hued Eames bedside lamp nor any lights in my bedroom for that matter. Regardless of if it is pitch black and night has fallen upon us. No. Not at all. They are concerned about their power bills. Apparently my humble bedside light containing an energy-saving globe is what is causing such a ruckus for them these days. Never mind that when my brother was still living with us he would spend all hours of the night with the computer turned on, doing whatever he did with the light turned on also. Or spend the rest of the day playing with his Playstation on his big LED television. They had no qualms about power bills then did they. Now the golden child is no longer here well it’s a different story isn’t it. Everything is bugging them and causing strife. From electricity to telephone usage, even the damn internet.
It is all a huge inconvenience. And one caused by me.
Their logic is that when they go to bed, usually around the eight-thirty or nine-thirty mark I should also seek slumber at that time too. No lights to be tuned on, ever. Despite my augments that I can hardly fall asleep these days well after midnight let alone such a ridiculous hour it makes no use. Her condescending tone and uneducated hypothesis is that I can’t sleep at night because I spend the entirety of the day sleeping already. The truth is I have become somewhat afraid of the dark now, uneasy being engulfed in darkness and shrouded by shadows. Suffering numerous panic attacks and a possible self diagnosed cardiophobia makes it difficult to find rest when the imagined pounding of ones heart rings in your ears like the banging of drums. My mind racing a million miles a minute, lost in passages and stories, ideas and pictures as only a creative mind knows how. But they’d never realize such things nor care to. So caught up in themselves and the golden boy. Oh and if I feel the frivolous need to read at night well I can do so during the day when the sun is out.
Reading is not for bedtime in her house.
And sure I can somewhat see their point, wanting to save money and all but my sympathies run dry when I see and hear them spending their precious money on my more than capable brother. Gifting him expensive household items for your home; paying his rates and insurance. Dropping $300 here and there for pointless crap he doesn’t want nor need like a portable clothing rack because it can hold king size bed sheets while the cheap plastic one he attained does not. And yet here I am, stuck on welfare with a dream that could send me to the moon and back.
Though this foolish ‘rule’ of theirs has been in play for a week or so now last night I felt their inane demands hit hardest most which in turn also manifested into a thirty minute battle with mini panic attack episodes. I’d adjusted to this moronic logic of theirs, going up to my room as I usually do at around eight at night, turning on my ceiling light so I can quickly change into my sleep attire then turning it off and settling in for the next few hours with some mind numbing television. Lights off but TV glaring and my trusty laptop opened up in front of me. When all was done and dusted I’d proceed to prepare myself for sleep, turning on my bedside light and getting myself comfy, willing sleep to somehow fall upon me and saying my nightly prayers for a better tomorrow, for which I am no longer at liberty to do in the dark considering my first panic attack transpired while I was doing that very thing. So I’d turn my light off and turn on my iPhone flashlight and gently fall asleep that way.
Last night I did all that, though I wasn’t given sufficient time to complete my usual ritual. As I was laying there, halfway through my prayers I heard a rustling from the room beside mine followed by her screeching voice to turn off my light. A light which had only been turned on for a feeble five minutes mind you. They both continued droning on and on about this, about how I didn’t care because it is they who pay the bills and how much of inconsiderate shit I am. Crushed I obviously caved in and turned it off, seeking shelter in the bright white glow shining forth beside my head from my life saving iPhone.
Honestly they can not bear me any longer then why don’t they just kick me out of this God forsaken house already?
It was then that I suppose I truly woke up and really took stock of everything around me. Here I was, wide awake and laying in the dark, frightened of what I could and could not see beyond me. My pillow rapidly becoming dense with my tears. And I realized that this room was no longer ‘safe’ for me. It had become much the same hell hole that was this house in general. I could no longer retreat here for comfort because they’d come and successfully lain claim to it.
Taken the one place I had always been able to crawl and hide away into.
I used to enjoy coming here, jumping onto my heavenly firm mattress and planting myself dead in its center. Talking to myself or immersing my cluttered mind in some beautiful tunes. Coming here at night with my light on, television set glaring and my laptop beside me, opened to Net-A-Porter’s new arrivals page. Fantasizing about acquiring that new pair of Alexander Wang heels and adding items to my wishlist as if it were in fact the cart itself and all while adding another coat of two to my once perfectly manicured nails. Signing off for the night by reading a few pages here and there from a beloved novel which also seemed to quiet my mind. Now I get to enjoy such a pleasure by squinting away at dark pages by the light of my cell. Allow my mind to consume itself in ideas and mumbo-jumbo. Fleeing this room, dashing into the bathroom when I feel the onset of another panic attack because in there I can turn those lights on. Though in fleeing it does not help to calm my adrenaline fueled body.
So there it is. The sad tale of a twenty something gal left with nothing and slowly being killed by the poison of others around her yet unable to escape somehow. Stuck. Lost. Insecure. Having forfeited her one and only place of refuge and now a new battle ensues with the darkness around her. Relying on the bright blue beam of light shining forth from the standby button on her TEAC flat screen television and the flashlight from her iPhone to keep sane and from sinking further into something more clinically heinous.