I don’t fake anything. That’s why I had left the house open Friday…it was method acting and simply trying to get away from this place…where I have been scrambling to impose a rule of sense and tolerance and where every room still echoes with old insults and images, almost as if from above of a woman being hit by her children, her voice gone calm because what else can she do…

If the shift in tense is confusing, well I apologize. Sometimes when people are hurt badly and repeatedly in ways small and stabbing sweeping a child’s finger pointing at her mother, “GO HOME!”

…well, they learn to think about things from a less personal perspective…I think it’s called ‘dissociative disorder’ – but, really it’s just emotional survival mechanism…shifting your heart around to keep it out of open fire…so, yeah…

And the saddest thing is that it all has no reason. I didn’t do anything. The things that people perceive I did are tragically unclear, “We got concerned.”
“You left your house open.”

I left my house open because in an effort to escape the repeated trauma of life as we know it around here, well – I did some imagining, some inquiry into possible explanations and chose the most delightfully far-fetched one…and the ideas came together with a force that was brilliant and a bit overwhelming. I felt as if I had finished a climactic chapter in a book. Which I had…experimental narrative non-fiction…I guess. I don’t know. It’s all true. I was terrified. Because the implications were so staggering…because I had tried to…I don’t know…I got tired and so I decided to go and check in at the Residence Inn. The thought of clean white sheets and dull hissing air that carries only the slighest pleasant odor…a pillow cool and immersive…

I figured that since I was going to check myself in…not at the psychiatric institution, which was the preference for my family…apparently…

Nope. I was just a lady who was sick of seeing her children from a window, or briefly in a field…a woman who was tired of staying at home and answering the questions that everyone asks, but that noone really wants to know the answers to.

I wished that maybe someone had been paying attention to me. Following my line of reasoning…fleshing out the story in ways that could be real…

People imagine all sorts of things…I knew that it was an imagining. However, when people disinvested in me…well, I figured: “What do I have to lose?”

I wanted to see what would happen. I hoped that I would come home and all my files would be missing and there would be people taking care of everything that needs to be taken care around here. I knew that it was unlikely. However, I reminded myself, I do have proof or evidence or something that could answer a lot of questions if the material was perceived as being the product of a clever, if not a little desperate, seeker…who seemed to find some points of connection…

Synopsis:

“Hello, Mr. (VP of Programs and Exhibits) this is Faith and I just wanted to let you all know that I just finished a really big project and I wanted to thank you all for understanding or…whatever…ANYWAY…I am going to go check into the Residence Inn for a couple of days. I left the house open in case anyone needs to come by and pick anything up. I know (former co-worker) was really excited to come in a help me get rid of some stuff. I’d be honored if (former co-worker super-file-wizard) would be in charge of my files. Yeah, I just wanted to say thanks. It’s a really great story, isn’t it? So…Viva La (Museum)”

The reason I called them was because I KNOW when this story is appropriately synthesized and pieced together, well…I would really like to help the museum to get the funding it needs to provide supplemental health and science education to public school kids. And I miss teaching and once the chips all fall…and they will…because there is so much wrong: ethically and now…legally…

Well, I thought it might be funny if I could somehow persuade Mr. Beck to let me use his show to do a Life Patterns 1 (sex ed.) class…the notion just cracked me up; I laughed out loud. I like to keep myself well entertained and also aware of the foundations I lay down…all the little experiments…

While I was calmly resting at the Residence Inn, police were called to my house, because people were “concerned”

I wish they had just called the hotel and inquired about whether or not I had checked in…was I okay…did I seem in crisis…if people had done that perhaps that would have delayed this current situation, in which my children have been withheld from me and I am powerless and my hands are tied and…

Still, I never really did anything too terribly wrong. I guess I did get hyper-focused re: writing…but, not really. Most of what was interpreted as instability was simply emotional duress…

Yesterday I, for all practical purposes, lost my children…I also lost my father…my mother is in a terrible position. I can’t even think about the children without my throat closing.

I will work this out. I am sorry if it “causes too many people pain” – yes, psychological abuse and the manipulation of childhood emotional responses under assumed authority…yes, it does hurt a lot of people…too many for too long…please keep an eye on us…

Folks, one last time: I am not in a state of crisis or delusion. I am just trying to do what I promised my son I would do…which was to work things out with his father so that I am able to exist and so that he understands that he cannot impose his perception on others and declare a state of total familial authority…so that my son can talk to him about how he feels when his father makes his mother fall, or turns her a distracted and shaking figure who walks on numb feet and whose voice is not motherly at all…it is scared and small and trying to simply…

help.

will update and edit later…

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