“My boys are twins and both severely autistic. They can’t have a job, make friends, or drive a car. But we noticed early on that they had a special gift: running. My husband and I thought, ‘Why are we standing on the sidelines watching them? We want to do this, too!’ Their excitement was contagious.”
“I hid big, dark, angry, broken feelings from the world. If I acknowledged their legitimacy, that meant I had to acknowledge that my husband–the megachurch pastor–was my abuser. And I was his victim. No, thanks! I’d much prefer to pretend everything is fine and our family is blessed.”
“I went to open my mouth to tell her exactly how I am not a lazy parent and she can piss off, but instead, I smiled. ‘Why do you think it’s lazy?’ Shocked, she replied, ‘Well instead of actually doing things, parents don’t have to parent – they just give them mind numbing devices. Children grow up not normal,’ she said, ever so smugly.”
“I’ve said goodbye to perky boobs and stretch mark-free legs. But THIS. It’s one of MY things. We all have them. The little pieces of ourselves we give away so passively when the world isn’t looking. We talk about the big things we give up—our careers, the way our bodies look. But we also give up what make us US. Tonight, I mourn the loss of something I wanted in my life, in exchange for something I want much more.”
“Maybe my mom thought I wasn’t smart enough to hear what she was really saying: ‘My daughter is broken, how do I fix her?’ I was working out. I was doing everything right, wasn’t I? ‘Why am I still fat?,’ I asked myself. I was 10. Eating 500 calories a day, no cheating. But it was there, in that despair, that my life started to change. I came across a plus-size woman’s account and was… blown away.”
“During 5th grade, at my father’s office party in some big hotel, I went upstairs to play hide and seek. A completely drunk stranger started following us. When the rest of the group hid behind the sofa, the man pinned me down. After he was done, I ran downstairs to my parents. We were all crying and pointing upstairs. All the adults searched for the man, but he had left the premises. I packed more than 33 pounds. They would warn their kids, ‘Stop eating. Do you want to look like her?’”
“My brother makes me a sandwich when he sees I didn’t eat lunch. My bones poke up under my skin. ‘Please eat it,’ he begs. ‘You need to eat.’ It is so sweet of him, so I eat a few bites. But when he leaves, I give the rest to the dogs. They leave no evidence. Nothing in the trash for my dad to find when he empties it, nothing to clog the toilet. I have become clever in the ways of secret self-destruction.”
“One night, my wife couldn’t lift her legs up the two steps on the front porch. She was carrying a bag with a t-shirt in it. The weight of it was enough to make her fall. I went out to find her hunched over, completely unable to move. She stayed there, crying and yelling, ‘Just leave me out here! Let me die!’ I knew something was wrong. In the freezing cold, I dragged her. ‘How do we tell the kids?’ The numbness was unbearable.”
“I gasped. I ran back to the garage, flung open the safe, and patted my hand. I felt the plastic sandwich bag. I pulled it out. And there it was. Two perfect pins. The real pins. Not only that, but his nameplate was in there, too. Tucked away. For the right time. Entrusting a stranger with something so personal, so sentimental, was like entrusting his body with the funeral home. I received the call, drove to the shop, my heart racing. ‘Stunning,’ I thought. When my 2 girls opened the jewelry box together, their collective gasps spoke volumes.”
“I collapsed over her body that no longer held the warmth and softness of a newborn. Nothing was going to bring her back. She was finally healed. Safe. Free of pain. I kissed her forehead. A final goodbye. My husband was escorted out of the room by the funeral director. I saw my daughter’s body leave forever, safe in her daddy’s arms. Stop. Stop. Stop the car. I can’t do this. I can’t go home. He rubbed my hand. ‘Let’s go to a hotel…’ We slept hard that night and awoke to a new day. A new, unwanted step we had to take without our baby girl.”
