Blue Screen Mode

Do you remember way back when computers first came out? When one caught a virus or ‘died’ the screen would turn blue. Back then, they called it the blue screen of death. The computer was still alive but couldn’t actually function. It was just “there”. That’s how I like to describe the way I moved through my younger years of childhood. I call it “Blue Screen Mode” I was there. I was alive but I wasn’t functioning. My parents didn’t just fight, they went to war. The house was a battlefield. They screamed until their voices cracked, hurled insults and objects with the same force, shattered things that could never be fixed, and slammed doors so hard the walls trembled. There was always something breaking… dishes, furniture, trust. The air was thick with anger and fear. It wasn’t just loud; it was chaos. Every sound felt like a warning. Every day, I braced myself for the next explosion. I remember being little and having so much anxiety and fear (especially at night when I was in bed) hearing everything and just knowing that something bad was about to happen. I would tip toe outside their bedroom and listen. I remember distinctly tiptoeing as close to the wall in the hallway as I could because that area didn’t creak. Sometimes I would meet my sister there so we could trauma bond together. Not sure why I did that. Maybe to have control? If I heard everything, I wouldn’t be so jumpy and scared in bed? The physical act of standing up, giving me the ability to have the fight/flight response? Who the fuck knows. For now, I’m just putting it all down. I’ll figure it out later.