A sheer blue hippy shirt with silver beads

It caught me by surprise in the closet
…that’s the shirt I was wearing that day…
Finger tips remembering the seams they scrutinized,
those tiny beads and the slip of the fabric
as my mind congealed and went blank

I wasn’t even in danger; a public place with a friend
Me sitting frozen like a cartoon lizard
memorizing crumb patterns on the worn carpet,
victim of an unwanted stress response
simply because I had resolved to be completely vulnerable.

I don’t remember much of the conversation.
Just the loud rushing of my own beating blood,
bright overexposed tunnel vision
a body made of stone
and the inability to think

And over it all, mortification at my dumbness,
sensing frustration from across the table
Genuine, caring questions met with blank stares and monosyllables --
Why had I asked for help if I couldn’t even receive it?

But today I see the shirt and I understand
how my body first learned to freeze
when fight and flight weren’t options
and numbing of emotions kept the peace
while I waited for the confusion to end.
I wasn’t wearing it then – it would have been much too big.

It’s been a useful skill, that feigned indifference, always keeping me safe,
until that day I wanted love more than safety,
when my heart cried out for touching but my system still screamed danger,
and I sat immobilized
in that stupid shirt