The Trap

Locked in a room I don't want to be in, 

searching diligently for a way out,

I lied, but the door locked tighter,

My face grew hard and I pretended not to care,

but the walls pressed in. 

I silenced my voice, but the door remained locked. 

I was vigilant for opportunities to be nice,

but still the lock persisted.

The longer I've remained stuck, 

the smaller I've tried to become,

the less I've tried to need, 

the quieter I've learned to be,

the slighter I've shared the real me,

until the only person who knows I exist is the man who shares my life and bed.

None of it worked. 

No matter what I did, the doors remained closed. 

The more I tried to solve the problem, the more it stayed the same. 

I could hear the crowd outside laughing and enjoying a party, 

but I was locked inside. 

I can't remember when or how I came to be trapped,

and I can't remember whose fault it is. 

I've asked for and received help, 

but I was still trapped. 

I attended "How to get untrapped" meetings, 

but I was still trapped. 

I hired a professional de-trapper,

but I was still trapped. 

I wrote in my journal, 

but I was still trapped.

I've gone for a walk, taken cold showers, and seen my doctor,

but I'm still trapped. 

I've become a pro at processing feelings, 

stopped telling lies and 

grown in a million ways . . . but I'm still trapped. 

But I'm still trapped inside this closet. 

Is it my life's work to get out of being trapped?

To be the person God intended me to be?

Or is it my life's work to figure out how to make the best of being trapped?

I don't know.

My next step is to cut off one of the things that I think is keeping me stuck. 

It feels like I'm getting closer to be free.