And I remember being so proud of myself anytime I got hurt and didn't cry. And I remember not being able to cry and how suddenly that wasn't a good thing. I remember not crying for over six years.
I remember not going to the doctor for over six years, and how, when I finally went, there were all these potential problems I'd had no idea about and that suddenly there were all these surgeries I could have.
I remember hating the hospital and the nurses and not hating that one nurse, but finding out later that was because she was a children's nurse and one of the nicest ladies in the building.
I remember the needles and discovering my veins are very, very, very bad for IVs, and how doctors and nurses don't like dealing with my veins.
I remember when the jokes about the meds were just that. I remember when I used to think my family was normal and it wasn't until later that I learned how weird my family was.
I remember when I learned he was going to therapy and I still don't know why. I remember asking him about it and him telling me, "You don't need to know, there's no way you'll ever be in a place as dark as I was." and how badly I wanted to slap him and him not getting why I was so mad afterwards.
I remember the awful year with that lady who shall not be mentioned and my mom's mental breakdowns that followed.
I remember when my mom left my family for awhile. I thought she was never coming back and I remember being so scared that it was all my fault.
I remember when my dad scared me so bad I cried and wouldn't look at him for awhile and how sometimes I still flinch.
I remember a few weeks later when my friends told me they loved my parents. I remember smiling and not saying anything.
I remember when the shaking started and the doctor telling me it wasn't a problem. And wondering how my world vibrating could not be a problem, but not arguing because he went to medical school and I didn't.
And I remember not knowing which hand was left and which was right because I wrote with both, until my kindergarten teacher yelled at me for always coloring with both hands. I remember not arguing with her, either, because she was an adult.
I remember when I stopped believing in adults and when I suddenly turned seventeen and in just a year I'd be one of them.
I remember that terrifying me, almost as much as college does and almost as much as being patronized angers me now.
I remember every word to Shania Twain's, "Man, I Feel Like A Woman" because when I was five, I used to dance and sing to that every day and I'd belt it whenever it came on the radio.
I remember when I never doubted God and how I always thought he was so lonely, so whenever I prayed, I'd ask him to bless himself before anyone else. I still think he's pretty lonely.
Mostly though, I remember sneaking out just to sit outside, before he got caught sneaking outside and my dad started paying attention.
And I remember when I thought everyone spoke to the stars.
And I remember when I thought everyone spoke to the stars.
