The Confrontation

There is a little me inside that has no name and craves for a voice. IT rises to the surface during times of stress and retreats to the safe place when questioned. That entity , that manifestation has existed from my first cognizant moment and remains dormant and resting; biding IT’s time. IT chose to go nameless as a perfect camouflage. Why would anyone attack something that is unknown? Why would I think that IT existed when It’s thoughts blended so seamlessly into my own. IT only really acquired a name and shape when I was hungry, or so I thought. But I got crafty. All the books that I had been reading all held the same unspoken cardinal rule: CONFRONT THYSELF!!

I forced IT to come out in a time that hunger did not exist, to realize why IT had to take over when I was eating. I had made a pact to lose weight in the most healthy and effective way possible but my whole person was not on board. This was a must for my immediate and long term success. Misery loves company and IT was miserable. IT was angry and felt betrayed by my obvious showings of disapproval. How dare I make such a decision without a proper consultation. Well I had damn it, and I told IT that IT had to suck it up or kick rocks altogether. I was making moves for me, and if IT only chose to exhibit anger by making me try to eat things that would make me feel horrible about myself then IT definitely wasn’t going to be making anymore appearances. It had been twelve days, and I had been secretly journaling. I knew the signs/ triggers. During times that I felt low I ate. During the times when I doubted myself and needed to do something to pass the time, I ate. But I had new strategies.

Darnisa Amante was moving like she had never moved before. I was a force, with a silent gushing wind: able to leap streets, avenues, boulevards with a slight nod to my New Balances. I was more powerful than your average 375lb person because I understood the path that I was meandering on. I was plowing through streets like I was an alphabetic map.: Albermarle, Atlantic, Bedford, Bushwich, Cleveland…. Lorimer. By the time we had our infamous conversation, I was working on the L’s. It was then that I knew regardless of how much walking I did, I had to battle that inner beast. Brooklyn, for as much as I loved it, could not smother that inner voice. IT began to vocalize while we waltzed through Brownsville. We noticed tall Brownstone buildings mingled with playgrounds with broken swings and accompanying monkey bars that had rusted from countless rainy days when a memory was triggered. Memories of trying to swing on those same rusty monkey bars like I was Lightning from American Gladiators playing Rings, and falling down. I remembered the way the other children laughed when I couldn’t support my upper body strength. I remembered my white and pink pound puppies with the Velcro straps. I was so proud of them back then. I was only seven. I ran home with my grandmother trailing behind me to escape the laughing and picked up a zebra cake and then a honey bun. Twas the birth of IT. I began to really prod and poke IT as the sun gently kissed the sky and when twilight crept into our peripheral.

IT had been hurt, pained and self-ridiculed. IT was nurtured in a place where a little black girl felt like she was the only one; where she was the only saving grace. IT became the miracle worker so to speak. And to deal with the pressure of the memories that kept me back from achieving my goals, IT became. I had split myself into two: Darnisa and IT. IT was reminding me of why it even existed in the first place. IT was not the demon but the martyr, sacrificing itself by not giving itself a name in the sake of preserving the larger. IT was screaming at me by this point. The silent battle that could never be logged in any historical journal waged onwards, because it happened in my head, circa June 14th 2006.

In my head IT shrieked for self-preservation and explanation:

What do you do when everything that you’ve done is to prove a point, and to prove someone wrong? Are you really doing this for yourself or to prove that doctor wrong? I have always been here for you whether you realized it or not, but I will not leave you be. To be you is to be me. How can you be successful without me when I am the reason that you are successful. I am not just here when you eat, I’m here when you refuse to cry because I make you not be able to cry. I am here when people let you down and if you start to work out who’s going to save you. Hm? Whose going to make those memories go away? Not me that’s who, because those nutrition books are striving to erase me! I will not let it happen. So go about what you need to but if you need me, you know where I will be. Right here, under the surface, biding my time until you need me to take the reigns again.

I was battling with myself only to realize that I had created another persona to justify my actions. Is this common? It was I that had done this. IT didn’t want to tell me IT’s name because to do so would give me power. Much like cultures that do not give their names as a way of maintaining their presence, IT would not be cast out. IT would not allow me to call it out like an exorcism. IT was afraid that I would exorcise IT by exercising. I wasn’t sure of how much weight I had lost in the process of walking and journaling but I did know that we had to get the UN into this conversation and reach a compromise instead of a constant stalemate.

We did reach a mini agreement that day. IT told me It's name. It wanted me to call IT…. myself.