I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

I know why the caged bird sings….

-No, I actually don’t.  I didn’t read the poem – or is it a book.

But if I were back in high school English and the essay topic was “Describe what the phrase ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings‘ means and how can it relate to you” I feel I could confidently get an A.

Because the goddamn bird found its beautiful voice.

I can only relate to the caged bird on an emotional level – I was never physically bound to stay. I had unclipped wings.  They could open and soar free at any time.  Emotionally I was a caged bird – but not a fancy hanging cage by a bay window where the sunshine would provide hope – no – chicken wire that poked and stung each time I outreached for hope.

I fell into an unhealthy pattern of love and loving someone.  What pattern would be unhealthy when it comes to loving someone else you might wonder – when you stop loving yourself.  I had stopped loving myself, my love for myself revolved around their love for me.

Whenever someone is on a path of destruction the common phrases “they have to hit rock bottom” or “you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink” are thrown around. I grew up in a house that used a lot of motivational phrases such as these. I’m pretty sure they came from my mom’s social worker background and used on her “clients”. And while they might be cutesy and buffers for deeper conversations they hold some validity.

Example: They have to hit rock bottom.

I’m pretty sure our friends, our family, and the overly observant Walmart shopper knew that my relationship was surface. We respected each other to keep our personal, raw business behind closed doors. We could walk into a party and dominate. (Ok not really, we live in a small town and we are nobody). I mean “dominate” in the sense we were a couple, we were in love, we were stable – 20 years – something to applaud. There had to be hard work, dedication, strength, forgiveness. Something for others to admire.

I always joke that “I know my place”, and I do. Not because of my significant other, because of my dad. He set the standards of respecting your partner, while he was always dominant in the household, my mom ran it – she was the queen. It was known in the subtle ways; holding her hand, pressing lightly on the small of her back, walking behind her – the small things. It’s a misguided conception amongst the Arabic community that the women are treated differently – and they are – and I will speak on this at a later entry – but I also know the women within the Arabic community are princesses and queens within the household. But “knowing my place” led to a facade of many years of unhappiness, sadness, secrets, and depression.

Looking back I’m sure there were mutual friends or couple friends we associated with that went home and dissected our relationship. We all can admit that our significant others are our favorite people to bitch and gossip with – even if they don’t care; they wanna know why Susie isn’t talking to Ann.

I’m sure the husbands sat there and said “she has to hit rock bottom” before she’ll understand.

……..

Example: You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.

I was told I was being cheated on.  On multiple occasions.  I did not believe them.  The water was there – I choose to be thirsty.

……..

It came full circle when the rug was pulled out from beneath me.  I had nothing.  I broke. So broken that the only way I could heal was to turn inward. To close off everyone and everything that could hurt me.  Everything hurt.  Talking took energy, energy I needed to be a mom.  Crying – I was so empty and dehydrated, I didn’t have tears. I had gut wrenching silent sobs on the bathroom floor. I had dry heaves of hatred. Anger – I kept that in, I had a reputation to withhold.

I knew my place. 

It has almost been a month. 30 days, 730 hours, 43800 minutes, countless seconds…. I have learned so many lessons – knowledge is a powerful tool.  One of those was the above mentioned “unhealthy pattern of love and loving someone”.  In the moment when I crashed and became loose gravel sifting away I had nothing to ground me.  I had sacrificed it all for what I knew love to be. I had therapists and prozac. But no one I could trust, no one I could feel 100% safe in confiding in.

But I softened. I reached out to those that had been a constant. The ones that didn’t walk away after the laundry was aired. I leaned to them. And slowly the cage loosed….my voice no longer silent.  It wasn’t naggy – it was clear, consciese. It had a purpose, a meaning. I have always said words carry power.

My words began to matter.

My voice stronger.

The tears flowed.

⁑ DISCLAIMER ⁑
Remember: you are reading MY “perspective” of given events.  These writings are MY feelings; whether they are present tense – written in the moment, past tense – drafted during the day, or anticipated – futuristic.  All information provided is what I know from the information I have been given. As with any and every situation there are multiple sides to share the account. It is at the discretion of the reader to which side they favor.