So there's a progression. Fatal peril is the breaking point and is followed by a manifestation of objectification. Then there is a chase where the batterer and victim are in some way brought into proximity with each other. And then there is the decision to strike.
And there I was in the class with people who had gone through the whole progression. And they either had the police called on them, or they realized what they had to lose if they didn't get some help to stop their battering. I could identify being in some parts of the progression, but I never hit anyone. Why was it still applicable, why did I feel that there was a reason I was in the class? Why did I feel like a batterer?
"The kids would scratch themselves and make cuts and scars on their arms," Linda was saying over dim sum. We had to meet regarding the storytelling project and we decided to have dim sum. "They would scratch themselves and it's like a manifestation of a pain they're feeling inside. They feel pain inside and no one can see it and so no one knows it's there, and so they scratch themselves so that they can point to it and say, 'Look, I'm hurting."'
I nonchalantly tugged my sleeves down my arms a bit. Her observations were uncomfortably astute. My brow furrowed. I kept silent so as to not show it was a topic I knew up close and personal.
"They're creating proof of something that's intangible and so difficult to show. But then I don't know, it's just some theory someone had, I don't know if it's right or wrong, or if I believe it or not," she added just in case she wasn't getting through. She got through, more than I was about to show.
The frustration is huge these days, not a thing to do, not a thing to say. It's just myself and being trapped in my mind. I'm just alone. I think of Amina and I could just burst into tears no matter where I am.
Sometimes I have moments of euphoria. Hearing a certain song, or seeing a double rainbow. Beautiful sight. I could feel a bubbling of joy and see the lights dotting the mountain sides and the brighter stars in the clear skies overhead. Anything. It's only that much more difficult to have this emptiness right next to it.
It's all the same, all borne out of the same thing. Why did she do it? I just feel like I'm getting more and more confused every day. Every day just gets darker and darker and more and more lonely and futile.
