The Closet

I'm crying out, I'm breaking down,
I am fearing it all,
Stuck inside these walls,
Tell me there is hope for me
Is anybody out there listening?
-From the song "I'm In Here" by Sia

I used to hide in closets. This isn't metaphoric, I literally would go into a closet for a period of time, just because I wanted to. I didn't do it because I was in any sort of danger (though I was told to get into a closet when there was a tornado warning, but that's completely different).
It started when I was around 3 or 4 years old, and I know this because I have very fond memories of the closet in my bedroom at that time. I shared a room with my younger sister, and we had this closet that looked like a typical swinging door small closet, but it was highly misleading. When you stepped in and looked to the left, there were a series of shelves that went towards the back like steps. To my incredibly tiny 4 year old self, I thought they were steps for a giant. When you got to the top shelf you could look back down over the height to which you had crawled with the satisfaction that I imagine a mountainclimber would feel. I would take certain things up there that I liked; a favorite doll, stuffed animals, blankets, my rainbow cased pillow were just a few of the things that I would surround myself with. It was my space, and in it I played and imagined the things that my 4 year old mind could.
I don't know exactly when the closet became a safe place for me. I'm sure it started in that bedroom, and carried on throughout the moves we made. No matter where we lived, or who we lived with, we had a closet. The things I took in there with me changed a little as I grew. A favorite stuffed bear I received from a friend when I turned 8 remained a tried and true friend, but the rest went away to be handed down to my sisters or friends of the family. I started taking a flashlight in with me; not for fear of the dark did I need the light, but for aid in reading words on the page of a book. Often it was a place I felt that I could pray, that it was somehow closer to God.
I don't know if anyone knew about my closet hidings until I told them, and most people who know only found out recently. In fact, I only say that I used to hide in closets because it has been nearly a year since I sought solace in one. Yes, this habit carried over into adulthood. After my granfather and grandmother passed last year, I would take their pictures into the closet to look at. When I was rooming with three other people in 2009, I picked the room that had two small doored storage areas not because they reminded me of Narnia (which is what I told people...it was like 1/2 true), but because one of these areas was carpeted and I pictured a nice retreat for myself.
I say all this because I've been wanting to sit in my closet lately. I know it sounds unbelievably immature and quite strange, but I feel like it would make me feel better. It's like the world evaporates around me and I'm in some sort of safe cocoon. I found this feeling with a human being only once and with God quite a few times.
I guess want I want is to feel safe, and I feel drawn to things that I think will give me that feeling. I don't know how to ask someone to let my lay my head on their shoulder for a while. I'm not sure how to say, "I want you to hold me." I'm afraid of the answer if I were to ask someone to just sit with me while I finish a task.
So I go to a closet. The closet has never left me, told me I was too much to handle, ignored me, coveted another, or any other negative. I want this with a man again, and I want this with God again. I know that with God, I need to remind myself of the truths that I know, and that just might be enough to push the need for the closet away.