My title is a reference to my favourite author Kurt Vonnegut, who often writes about characters who become “unstuck in time”; they find themselves flung from one time in their life to another, in no particular order, pattern and for no obvious reason. This has resonated for me in adult life. Now, I’m not claiming that I have become temporally detached from my timeline like Vonnegut’s characters, but it can feel like it sometimes. I’ll try to explain.
There was this moment in my life that was so powerful that I sometimes feel I’m physically right back in it. I was quite young, a teenager of maybe 13 or 14, and I’m in my bedroom. My Dad, who is an alcoholic, is sitting on my desk chair in my room. There are tears streaming down my face as I desperately plead with him to leave us, he’s causing us pain with his abusive behaviour and we’re not coping. I tell him that I’m suicidal, that my therapist is concerned about me. He looks back at me with his glazed, puffy eyes, his expression completely unchanged, and tells me that maybe I should leave, maybe I’m the one causing the pain. I can’t argue with him, I’m too upset and now I’m terrified because my father is telling me I should leave my home.
He gets up as he’s left fish cooking in the kitchen. He always cooked fish when he was drunk, even though he knows I have a fish allergy and the smell makes me feel sick. He says he’s coming back. As he walks away down the hall, I’m panicking. I’m scared. I don’t know what to say to him. Is he going to tell me to go? He doesn’t even care that I am suicidal and I don’t know how to speak to him if he doesn’t care. I think about running down the hall and out the front door, but there isn’t time. Instead, I squeeze myself inside my clothes cupboard, making sure the door is completely shut. The clothes cover my face and I have to hold my legs tightly so that I don’t move the cupboard door. I hold my breath as I hear him come back into the room and hear him mumbling under his breath. If he finds me, what do I say to him? He’ll see me cowering inside a cupboard. It’s pathetic.
At that moment, I hear the front door open. It’s my Mum. My Dad walks down the hall and says something to her. My Mum sounds panicked and starts calling my name and as she approaches my room, I leap out of the cupboard into her arms.
This is a moment of time that I keep finding myself in. Sometimes I will be back inside the cupboard when I feel unsafe or threatened, sometimes the sound of a floorboard or a key in a lock, or the feeling of clothing will send me back in there. Sometimes, there doesn’t seem to be a reason.
This isn’t the only moment I find myself bouncing around in, there are others too; each with their own unique emotional footprints. While I am a sci-fi fan, I can’t pretend that this form of time travel is one that I enjoy, but neither did Vonnegut’s characters. Vonnegut often related his “unstuck in time” narrative style to post-traumatic stress induced by his experiences in the second world war and that makes a lot of sense to me. You find yourself drawn to other times and places as soon as you experience an emotion or sensation that relates to them.
I wanted to share this as it is not something I have shared openly before and writing this has felt liberating for me. Maybe someone else who is unstuck in time will read this and feel less alone. Time travel can really suck sometimes.