A baby was born to very young parents who couldn’t afford to bring her home. The hospital required ten dollars. Although there wasn’t ten dollars in the account, the clerk suggested the father write a check – he did and they bundled the baby home.
There wasn’t a crib yet, but the baby was very tiny (as newborns tend to be) so a dresser drawer was just snug enough.
Probably about 46 years ago.
At a very young age, I realized, “Everybody’s got something.” The “something” is the hidden battle, the hard bits, that may or may not be public. A secret, a trauma, a disability, a hardship, a “something.”
When a was, I don’t know, like 10…? Two neighbor kids “played school” and taught me my home phone number. Yes, 10.
I was a conundrum. My family often described me as “7 going on 30.” I was cynical and had an early mastery of dark comedy. I was a thinker. Yet, I struggled with some very
There was a time when I lived in chronic physical pain. This pain caused a battle between my body and mind. My mind rebelled by slowly killing me.
The war inside of me waged, gradual and nearly invisible…until it wasn’t.
I think of that time like a lifetime behind this one.
When I am reminded of the triggers that prodded me in that life, I am still affected, but differently. Like a reverse acupuncture.
Those winters full of pokes and pain, fear and unworthiness, sit like one long winter in my memory. Scars flare under my skin. It’s an odd sensation, a burning
