Face the shame

Imagine you're in a room that isn't very big, say the size of a typical bedroom.  There's no furniture and no windows, but it's lit uniformly (from an unknown source), because otherwise you wouldn't know you're in a room.

Every surface is white and delicately soft.  The floor, walls, and ceiling are this way.  The ceiling actually sags down because of this, and the floor is heavily wrinkled due to the slack in the thick, virgin, organic membrane. 

There's a way out of this room but you're unwilling to create it.  And frankly, everytime you move, you apply pressure to another part of the floor and consequently, you feel it within yourself.  This movement makes you fully aware that you're stuck in here.  So you don't want to move much.  Better to simply stand in one spot and hope that your friend might come rescue you.  Unfortunately, you've been waiting a long while for that to happen.  All the while, you've found yourself pretending that you're somewhere else in an attempt to lessen the emotional strain.  The experience of believing yourself trapped in this room quickly became very hard for you to deal with. 

And understandably so.  At first, this was so very new to you.  Throughout your life, you'd known of this room and even been inside on occasion to sweep out the dustbunnies, but never have you found yourself living out day after day after day inside this centralized space.

Curiously since you've been here, you've been able to hear other people outside of the room interacting with each other, and some of them even interact with you.  You're not sure how they can see you, but obviously they can.  And you can see them as well, if you concentrate hard enough.  They're right on the other side of the wall, though carrying on a conversation with them isn't always easy because the fact that you're in this room is something you simply can't ignore no matter how hard you try, despite their demands or their individual circumstances.  You find that moving through your daily routine is possible, though it doesn't change the fact that you're stuck here.  Driving the kids to school, going to work, exercising, are all part of your day with the room in tow. 

Eventually, you do find yourself beginning to appreciate this unique space, though you would never admit that to anyone.  In fact, when you're really brave, you gingerly move your body over to one wall and lean in.  This allows you to feel the warmth radiating from the perfectly smooth surface.  You also delight in running your fingers up and down the organic bow, like you would the underside of a sleepy, well-fed puppy.  This experience feels both frightening and comforting at the same time, though also a little unsavory.

Eventually you've come to realize that what you fear most is how vulnerable this space makes you feel.  Knowing that any sharp object could easily tear into and ultimately rupture this cocoon with one swift strike terrifies you.  You imagine this leading to intense pain and suffering as bodily fluids and entrails would be released violently.  In fact, you've always been able to see these fluids moving through their patterned network right behind the veil following a rhythmic flow. 

At the present, the rooms outside of this one have begun to diminish in importance to you.  Now you are somewhat ashamed for feeling as you did when you first found yourself here.  This oft ignored space is no doubt very important.  You've become settled with the fact that you wouldn't have been brought here otherwise. 

But, you still don't know the righteous way to get out.  Eventually, you believe, you do want to get your emotional life back to normal.  If there ever was a normal.

So, you wait patiently.  And you pray.  And you hope for the best.

And you try to be thankful that you have a friend who was brave enough to come here with you. 

Though he's left for now, you find yourself thinking of him the most without worrying too much about his own situation.

One thing I failed to mention.  There's a sharp knife in your back pocket, though it isn't your own.  It belongs to your friend.  He used it to expertly craft an opening into this space, and you're beginning to believe that it may be the key to finding / making a way out.  You've ignored it up 'til now. 

You continue to wonder about when he'll return and just what part his blade will play then, if any.

What if he doesn't return at all?  Will I look for someone else to help me make a way out?

Must concentrate on the routine of my life.  This too shall pass, though I am determined to savor the shame.  And not face it alone.