I was having lunch with a friend today and we were discussing my blog post from the other night. The one titled Voice of the Throw-aways. We got to talking about emotions and all that goofy stuff.
Before I go on let me give you the picture. We were sitting in a restaurant, I was sitting sideways in the booth so my back was up against the wall, and my legs were stretched out across the bench. I was in jeans and a tank top and having what I think is a good hair day. She was dressier because she was on her lunch break. She sat normally at the table. She, as she says, wears her emotions on her sleeve. Me, I do not. It actually takes a great deal too illicit emotion from me unless it is anger, frustration or the like. The more sensitive or as we, the throw aways see them, 'bad' ones hurt, fear, insecurity, sorrow, and others, well those do not surface often at all. This person provokes me to think deeper for understanding or ways of explaining than most do. She challenges me with her naivety of her grasp of a throw away kid. The phrase alone can bring tears to her eyes. She knows we throw aways’ exist in her head but it hurts her heart to know it at the same time.
Throw away kids have been conditioned to not allow those bad emotions to show because they would always be used against us and at times in some of the vilest of ways. So we teach ourselves how to walk around with a blank stare on our faces, or just plain mean and angry. That way no one can hurt us or take advantage of our most private thoughts and feelings. We already are made to feel blameworthy and condemned for what we do show. If we cry it's too much, if we explode in anger it's too much. If they only knew that the little they see is not even scratching the surface of how deep and powerful those sensations or passions are. They only see the smoke that burns off the top of the stack; it's only a diminutive amount of all that lies beneath, it's the part we cannot contain or control anymore and needs to be burned off. The cauldron of emotions the power of all of them never make it to the surface. How could they if the little that escapes the stacks is viewed as too much.
So we teach ourselves to not feel the pain, you can't get hurt if you don't feel the tenderness of pain. We can't get disappointed if we don't get excited or happy about anything. We can't get sad or grieve if we don't know all we are really missing, and we can't believe that everything in our life is not our fault if all people do is blame us for everything. We can't achieve confidence if the rug gets pulled out from us at every turn. We can't gain success if we do not know how to feel proud of ourselves. We cannot begin to trust if everyone always fails us. Yet, we are afraid to show it if we do something that we are proud of because someone will point out even the smallest of mistakes we may have made to get to that miniscule proud moment. Those never last.
We won't make the first move with anything. We wait for someone else to make it and then watch very closely all the reactions. We can't learn to trust if no one trusts us. We can't learn not to duck when a hand comes up to pat us on the back or give us a hug, if all we know hands to do is to hurt or hit. We won't tell you what we are thinking because we know you would not understand it. We don't try to explain how we feel or what we need or want because not only will it be used against us, but you may see us as weak, clingy or demanding attention. When that is exactly what we are doing but we don't do it through all we say or do. We do it by saying can't you see me? Can you even hear what I am really saying underneath this bravado? Can't you see all the marks? Can't you see something in us has changed? Are you blind to the fact that we are dying right before your eyes? Do you even care at all? Do you believe you can try to love a kid back to life? I don't right now but I would be willing to try to be brought back to life, will you try? I am right here waiting! That is all said in the silence of things left unspoken, but passed along through the eyes, by that throw away taking a step closer to you than before, looking at you in the eyes even for the briefest of moments, a coy smile or smirk, or even an all out fit or rage for no apparent reason. It all speaks the same language. It is the poetry that describes the sensitivity of the throw aways’ inner soul, the prose of their life and their raw thoughts and feelings
That is where the truth of who we are resides. That is where you find the core of what we are. Where all the skinned and bloody emotion, the reality of our private world dwells, and where the foundation of the walls of protection we build are formed. It is in the silence where we feel all those emotions that others wear on their sleeves. They are intense and strong, sensitive and natural. It is where all the sorrow resides beneath the anger and rage. It is from this place where we wish to be seen and heard, but are too afraid to poke our head out of the sand long enough to stand in the power of our emotions. So to break the muted tension we look at you and tell you we are fine, I’m OK. With that you move along your way never stopping to wonder if that is true.
It’s not that we want to lie to you; we have to lie to you. Even if we as throw aways’ have a mild level of trust with you and have allowed you to inhabit some small corner of our inner sanctum and we tell you the truth that we are not fine or OK, we are terrified of being physically touched in that very real and weak moment that our armor is failing us. Our skins is thick and sore to the touch our spirit bruised and aching, and as much as we silently plead for that compassionate, warm gentle touch we fear it more. In that instant we are at our most vulnerable point. Our trepidation is that if you get too close or reach in our soul too far and we will rupture. We fear we will begin cry and will never be able to stop, that our dejection will envelope us and we worry about you and what others think of us at the time, or if our emotional wash out is too much for you. Even in those moments we are still worried about you, taking care of everyone else but ourselves. The throw away is concerned our weakness will be exposed, our secrets revealed. What makes it worse is the terror when it’s over you will walk away from us and never look back. What will happen to us then? We go back to the trash heap we crawled out of. While all this is going through the throw aways’ mind and the silence is deafening we are also inaudibly beseeching you to do just that. Touch us, hug us, put your hand on our back or head let us know you are still there. Help us find a safe place to land to eradicate the overwhelming tide of emotion surging through us at that time. Be that safe place for us to fall if even for a second, tell us it will be OK, and that it is alright to let it flow because all the throw away hears in their head is this in not good, pull it back, pull it back, control control this is not good reign it in fast. I am weak here and am not able to defend myself; I am going to get hurt if I don’t stop right now! That voice gets louder and louder inside until we do regain composure. Look past our barricades and take the chance. Reach out to us; we need it at the time to know if we are still alive and breathing in that second. We can’t ask for it, the words will never surface for a throw away. We don’t feel worthy of any form of compassion. That kind of touch we shy away from because we don’t know what to do with it.
It's the silence that speaks louder than any of our tantrums or screaming rages ever will. All you see from those are the things we can't control anymore. Those paroxysms are never about anything substantial and often seem to be trivial or about something so insignificant to others they can't understand what the big deal is. To the throw away it is a huge deal. It allows them to blow off the stream or raw emotion without fearing giving up their secrets that could get them trouble. If we didn't do that we would look for other means of release and we are usually our own victims.
Those who try to talk to us throw aways after the incident we usually will say we don't know why we did it, or what we were feeling. That is true; we are not lying when we say that. We don't know. Those 'bad' feelings we carry over time become just there. Meaning they may still be there but indistinguishable from the others. They roll into one and no longer have names. We teach ourselves and have been taught by others that our feelings just like us as being humans do not matter. None of what is a part of us is worth knowing or understanding. That would take an effort on their part and energy expulsion. No one wants to spend that energy on throw away kids because they think it is wasted energy. So they don't invest in us on any level and we slip through yet another crack. We fall onto the next conveyer belt of the next person in the assembly line until we fall through the cracks or off the end of the belt altogether. No one looks back to even notice we are no longer there.
Our worth is tied up in how or when people need us for something. If they ask us to do something we are elated, and feel wanted at least for something. After all we throw aways' know from the moment of our conception we would not be wanted. We were born to serve, please and fulfill every desire man or woman kind may have. We don't have a voice in those decisions it becomes part of who we are. Across our foreheads is an invisible stamp that reads we are here for your pleasure all of your pleasures. Please feel free to take and do what you wish from us and don't worry about leaving anything behind for us to grow or learn from. Our lessons will be learned in the words you say to us, the way you treat us, and trash heap you throw us away in when you are finished with us. Proving the throw away kids hypothesis of their life is true. We are born to serve, please and fulfill all people’s needs no matter the cost to us. That is our purpose, that is the job we are here to take, and we know that for one reason or another it is the punishment we had coming or one we are taking to spare one of the 'good' innocent ones the misery and certain death. You can't kill the soul or spirit of a throw away kid when it has been taken and beaten down by those kids, those adults we should be able to trust, teachers, parents, so called best friends, strangers we meet along the way, or even by those we willingly gave our hearts to for love a long time ago. We do not see ourselves as victims at all. We see ourselves as saviors of sorts. The 'good and worthy ones' will never feel the touch of malice graze their virtuous countenance as long as there are throw away kids walking this planet. That is what society calls on the throw aways to do. They say to us in their silence protect the wholesome 'good' ones you discarded, loathed, not fit to be in our presence using our air throw away kid you.
Throw aways’ are saving all the 'good' ones from the torturous dreams that wake us screaming in the night and haunt us during the day. They will never know what it's like to weep from the unfathomably desolate caverns where the sound of silence is the only thing that reverberates off the walls from the abyss throw aways' call life. Those 'superior ones will never have an idea of what it feels like to lay on the cold damp floor of our private hell and scream with every ounce of our throw aways small bruised and broken body for help, begging and pleading for anyone that will listen PEASE HEAR ME, PLEASE SEE ME, I AM HERE I might be worth salvaging won't someone try? A throw away will never tell you but what we silently yearn for more than anything in that moment is a liberating hand to grab a hold of us and yank us to a safe place, protect us, put salve on the wounds and guard the ones you can't see until we are strong enough to stand on our own again.
They need us to be there when they must release pent up emotions, even if it means through violence, we will stand and accept it as our created destiny. It does not matter what form their need may take. We believe that we were born to gratify every whim and fancy, regardless of how evil and putrescent or harmful physically or emotionally their urge is. We will endure it all the while saying to ourselves this can't hurt me nothing can hurt something that is already gone. Let me break that down a little: Nothing can hurt us anymore then we have already been hurt in any form. We grow accustomed to what pain is and train ourselves not to feel it. For example if you have a cigarette snuffed out on your forearm the pain does not last long. It only hurts when the top epidermis layer and half way thru the second dermis layers are being burned, and even that the pain does not last long. Once you get past that halfway point and into the subcutaneous layer there is no more feeling. It is from this subcutaneous level that we live our life from. When we fulfill the needs of others willing or not we feel human, good for something wanted even if it's violent. It does not matter what form the need presents itself to us. In the throw-ways’ thought and emotional stand point it is a chance to acknowledge to ourselves that we do matter to someone. At least in that moment anyway.
We won't cry about it were you can see us. We will take it, keep our chin up and keep surviving. We will not let you know if we suffer, are wounded or injured in the least. That too is uttered in the hush of our voice but is palpable in the vacancy of our eyes and lack of spirit in our bodies. We will not let the normal average 'good' people know if we feel violated, desecrated, hurt scared. Why would we those are the same people that pass us everyday terrified to make eye contact and pretending to not even notice that we are even there. All that throw-away kids throbbing pain inside and out remains translucent. To a throw away kid it is during those times we have learned the definition of love, and what it is like to be wanted or worthy enough to stand in your presence. We feel validated and worthy that we are needed at all for anything even if it hurts us. That is what a throw away interprets as self worth.
To the throw away kind expressions or comforting gestures are foreign but that does not mean we don't crave them. It just means we don't know immediately what you want from us to deserve those kind and soothing things. We don't want you to give up trying to help us understand them but we need you to be patient with us as we try and find your true meaning behind them. We are always searching for the ulterior motive. So when there is none and they are genuine we struggle to grasp it. We try and figure out what we did to deserve it, what trouble did I get into to illicit this response. It is so out of whack for us we assume we did something wrong. At first sometimes if feels like we are being punished when the good soothing things are said or expressed. We need to see if you really mean it or if you are just trying to get something from us for you own satisfaction, and then try to figure out what you will take or do to us to achieve that. We won't give up trying to understand but we need you to keep trying with us.
Some will try to tell us that none of it is our fault. The majority tell us it is, we tell ourselves it is. It is the only way it makes sense to us. For those that tell us it is; these are the same people that are too afraid to share their oxygen because we might breathe too heavy and take something that 'good' ones will need or want. Oh it's OK to breathe but only in short shallow inhales and exhales, which they know will inevitably cause us to pass out and fall to the wayside. However, the majority must be right because their record is the loudest and most frequently repeated.
Those that tell us it is not our fault they don't have the volume to overtake the soundtrack that plays in our head. Their voices cannot be heard over the clamor and battle that rages inside when we hear that. If it is not our fault and we did not deserve everything than we are left with the question of why? Why did those things happen? Why us? Why just the throw aways? We do not like to entertain all the whys because it sounds like pity. We don't want pity; we don't need anyone feeling sorry for us. We need someone to speak louder through actions, but while not stopping the words to convey the message of no blame, guilt, shame or fault. We need someone to overtake the record and be willing to stick around long enough to help us rewrite a new track. We need you to have patience with us. This mindset may have taken just a few years or a few decades to settle in and we may know your message intellectually but that 12 inch drop from the head to the heart is a long one and the hardest to achieve. At times you will get frustrated with us and feel like we are just not getting it or listening to you. We are trying to understand why you believe what you do. At other times you will see the understanding in our eyes and the whys begin. To us the only thing that answers that question is because we asked or deserved it. That is when our silence may be seen on the outside through the eyes, even as they struggle to hold back the Niagara Falls of tears. It is in that moment where the hearer will understand all the things that have been unspoken by the throw aways' heart.
In those silent moments between the rage and being fine is where the child waits. It is from that position our hearts will speak the loudest. Where our truths as we know them lay. It is there where we keep our secrets our sadness, regrets, hopes and fears, it is there they reside. It is that place we try to keep as small as possible so there is not more room for anyone to steal or hurt us. We don't visit it often because we know we can't carry all of that on the surface and it is too hard to disguise.
We long for that safe person to reach in and touch it. To let us know that we are more than our experiences with life. That we are more that what others say about us in the hallways, behind closed doors, secret meetings, or whispers in the dark. That we are worth more than being a servant for others satisfaction or gratification. That we matter to someone. That we are not invisible to the rest of the world even if that is what we are trying to be. We need someone to help us feel safe.
Safe from all harm physical and emotional, safe to let our silence speak for us, safe that if you tap into our deepest emotions and learn all our secrets that we will not be judged for what we did or didn't do. Safe that we will not have to carry your guilt of not knowing soon enough or not doing enough, safe even though we know we are damaged goods and not worth the dirt you walk on that we will not look up and see that on your face. Safe that if tears roll down our face we will not get hurt or hit for it, safe that you will stop and think if this was my child what would I do.
Safe that we can trust you will help protect us once you hear our silence loud and clear. Protect us from all those that are so afraid we will taint the genetic pool of humanity with our kind of shame and diminish the resources for all those that so want to safeguard the 'good' of civilization.
Those that don't believe we will ever amount to anything will never know we are capable to loving deeper, seeing the world more vibrantly, caring for others to the point our heart bleeds, learning how to reprogram our thoughts to hear the spoken and unspoken but mostly understanding the silence of the other throw aways.
If only more people would be willing to be a champion, like my friend I had lunch with today, to a throw away kid by just being that brief rest stop on the highway of that child’s life, knowing they made more of an unspoken difference then they may ever know.
If only someone would take the time to listen to the silence of the throw aways..
It’s the silent if onlys that continue to echo in the throw-aways mind.
If you listen and want to hear our still silent voice you will hear.
If only.........
I ask myself almost daily "where does that part of my heart go now?" Recently I had a discussion with a friend of mine and confessed that I don't love Tally the same as Sasha. However, it's not that same love I had / have for Sasha. I can't explain it, but it left a hole in my heart. I don't know if I will ever be able to re-write the message to myself since the fire "...Sasha saved my life and I didn't save hers..." Yes, I tried the police reports confirm it, but the fact remains I DIDN'T. She died without me to comfort her, albeit I was prepared to go with her and the other pets, it's not the same. People try to comfort me by telling me to remember the peace I felt last and know that is what they felt. I want to shout YES, AND I REMEMBER THE PAIN IN MY THROAT, LUNGS, FEAR, TERROR I FELT BEFORE I FELT THAT PEACE!!!"
