The Hole Within

CHAPTER 6

I was fourteen-years-old when Linda and I reconnected through church. We became best friends though there was always an undercurrent of something more. Being more rebellious, I now wanted to rekindle our short-lived exploration. I was fiercely attracted to her, though I would not have been able to name the feeling then. When I stayed the night at her house we both struggled with our desire for each other and our fear of sinning. I was now more willing to sin than she was. Arms wrapped around each other in bed I would try to convince her that kissing was okay. That it was practice for boys. That if we both felt bad about it we would stop. I would say anything to get her to relent. And she did, for a while. Until she became involved with a boy at school.

I was deeply hurt and insanely jealous. I felt stupid for loving her, for allowing myself to be vulnerable to hurt. I punished myself by slamming my fist into walls. The sharp pain in my hand felt delicious. I write:

You are my soul

A bird? or A Stone?

You hang around my neck

My hell or heaven

You alone decide –

I alone feel.

I was moody, depressed and was wary from living a split existence. I was the good Mormon. Responsible. Taking care of the household while Mom worked and being a good student. But behind my bedroom door I took pills, listened to metal, withdrew and explored the darker parts of myself. I wrote dark poems about death and suicide. The dichotomy served to fuel my ever-increasing self-loathing. I felt unlovable. Like I was not a good Mormon or a good daughter. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect I spent most of my time praying for forgiveness. I knew taking pills was wrong but the lure of the reprieve they gave was too strong. I became consumed by guilt. The more guilt I felt the more I wanted to escape. The more I escaped the more guilt I felt. A vicious cycle pulling my life down a drain. I tried to punish myself even more by whipping my arms and legs with stinging nettle.