My Prom from Hell.

Check the Twitter thread. The night (in 1998) consisted of fuckboys (or, my boyfriend at the time who, for unknown reasons wouldn’t go to prom with me, and seemed unfazed when I told him about the resulting debacle that I had experienced), presumptuous men, bad judgment, and lucky stars.

It was wild. And all things considered, I was very fortunate that it didn’t end worse for me. Read: sexual assault.

Agency, Silence and Closure.

“Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”
– Toni Morrison (Song of Solomon)

One of my friends tweeted this last night.

It spoke to me. It was what I needed to read, even though closure is a loaded topic that triggers me. It’s something I’ve been denied. And three years later, I’m still not over it.

That said, perhaps a trigger stems from the lack of agency that I feel. Because when it comes down to it, I suppose closure is personal — the ball is in my court– it’s not something I should be expecting from someone else. And like a fool I’ve been waiting for it. It’s something that I’ll likely never get (for many reasons). Plus, I’m not owed it (because a truism that I’ve come to accept is that the world owes me nothing).

But I need it. I’m tired. I feel stuck.

So, today I came across an essay on my Facebook news feed about relationships, words, silence and closure (or the lack thereof). It’s interesting, because the article isn’t new — it was written by an author named Rania Naim back in October for Thought Catalog.


I wonder if it was meant for me to read today. Energy, the universe, divine intervention and all of that.

In any case, it spoke to me. It spoke to my soul. It encapsulates much of what I am feeling right now. It reads, to me, like an open letter of sorts. An open letter that I need to write to someone. I’d like to share some of the excerpts here. This beautiful essay serves as the open letter that I am too tired to write. I just don’t have the energy anymore.

“Don’t worry when I yell at you or when I blame you. Don’t worry when I throw tantrums and send you long essays explaining why I’m mad…Don’t worry when I cry at night because of something you said.

They’re all displays of love, they’re all cries for your attention and they’re all exhibits of how much I love you.

But worry when my messages become one word answers, worry when I no longer fight with you about what you say…worry when I stop crying, when I stop talking and when I stop reacting.


Because my silence is more dangerous than my words, my silence can destroy much more than my words ever will.

My silence means you’re no longer the one who’s occupying my thoughts and you’re no longer worth the noise.

You see, I love words, I live for words, I can keep writing words forever because I can feel them, because they come from my heart, because they represent my depth and because they’re honest.

But I hate silence. I’m not comfortable with the words left unsaid, with feelings left unattended and hearts being neglected.

My words are my love, my silence is my departure, it’s the beginning of the end.


So don’t fear my heated arguments, the ways I try to show you who I am, the tears I can’t hold back because you mean the world to me. Don’t fear them, appreciate them, they’re all the ways I want to stay, they’re all the ways I try to fight with you because I want to fight for you.

But fear the day it all stops, fear the day when everything goes quiet…”

Silence. I’m out of words. This author captured my sentiments with words I no longer have. I’m tired.

Door Slam. For Good?

Perusing Pinterest yielded this gem; it’s spot on.

I’m an INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging — Introverted Intuition with Extroverted Feeling) if you don’t know what this means, look it up. In any case, it’s a rare personality type (based on the Myers-Briggs personality test — its framework based the work of psychologist, Carl Jung), and I was taken aback when someone, who I was only casually acquainted with (at the time), quickly (and randomly) called it out. This person happens to be a mental health and educational professional, so her observations had credence to me.

The conversation quickly shifted to something called the “INFJ Door Slam”. I had never heard of the term, but upon learning about it, **and further research, I completely see this defense mechanism manifesting in my life. As I think about it now, it explains so much about the very extreme (and painstakingly drawn out, yet final, at their resolutions) choices I’ve made (and am making) as it relates to personal relationships (context will be provided when I am not as emotional).

According to the Introvertspring website:

“The decision to resort to a Door-Slam is one of the hardest moments an INFJ will ever face. This is our last resort, our absolute limit. When we do it, we don’t look back. At that point, we are done. This is our ultimate defence mechanism.”

Case in point, be gentle and conscious with the INFJs in your life. Respect our boundaries and our emotions. The boundaries to which I refer are emotional boundaries. If you truly know your INFJ, you know how we tick. You know what sets us off, or more importantly, what we just can’t sit with. Respect that. Our only resort, when we’ve exhausted all other recourse (second chances, trying to rationalize emotionally disrespectful behavior, tolerating spirit vultures, etc.), is to slam the door. For good.

** Trust me, I am not suggesting that the internet — moreover Wikipedia — is reliable research; it just provides context.