i remember events from childhood if they are rooted in pain. I can’t tell you the specifics of a really fun day or an event that may have been light. I can vividly recall the assistant principal calling me out of 5th grade to his office and asking me if I was ok because he knew my mom was away getting help (alcohol treatment). I was past the point where any kind witness or protective figure could get in because all I felt in his office was utterly embarrassed. I had tears well up and said I was ok with my head low. Someone else knew my private shame and I know he meant well but I felt humiliated that I had a drunk mom. Now the school knew she was gone for 30 days. For a moment I realized I was important enough to be called to his office; they wanted to check on “me.” A brief moment of importance and special attention born out of the chaos, yelling, assault and dread that I lived in for years. It was impossible for a special person or a kind witnesss to ever find me because I was told I drove my own mom to drink, I was bad, I disappoint and the amount of shame surrounding me meant the neighbors didn’t like me cuz they knew my mom drank and I stayed too long at their houses to avoid mine. I also was hyper and loud. There was no way to reach me because I’m not about to tell you anything because you may hurt my mom or take her or you’ll dislike me more. I may get in trouble.
It was my life, my tiny life of dread, shame, fear, confusion and rage with a cute exterior that felt ugly, too embarrassed and knew there was no one who could really help because it was ok and no one could care that much