“They come from a really, really hard place. The kind of abuse you think can’t be real. They duck for cover. You’ve heard of fight or flight? There is also freeze. One of my kids responds with ‘freeze.’ Her eyes grow wide and her voice silences. It’s how she’s trained herself to survive. My kids need to know you are safe.”
“My father took his own life when I was 5 years old. I remember sitting on our front porch, hugging my mom as the paramedics wheeled him out of the house. I remember living at my grandparents’ house for a while after ‘he left.’ My family decided to keep what happened a secret. I continued to believe what my mom would tell me.”
“At 19, I was dating a guy who sold drugs. We were at the mall when I felt a cold chill come over my body. It wasn’t something I was familiar with. I knew people who ‘had’ to use drugs to feel normal – I was not one of them. I wasn’t that bad off. ‘If you lived the life I’ve lived, you’d get high, too,’ I justified. I told my boyfriend I didn’t feel well. He looked at me. ‘You’re going through withdrawal.’ This moment changed everything.”
“There were still no legs. All I could picture were two tiny baby legs floating around in my belly with our baby girl. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They didn’t fall off. They just never grew.’ They laid her on my chest. ‘She’s here, she’s okay,’ we said through tears of joy. Our beautiful girl was here. All I could think was that we’d be able to go get mani-pedi’s together when she was older; but you better believe I’m not paying full price for one hand and two toenails!”
“I was put on a plane and sent to the live with them. I assume it was easier to ship me off then to actually address the dysfunction I was surrounded in. The divorce had sent my mother into a tailspin and when she wasn’t out partying, she was suicidal. My father did his best, but with his newfound freedom and new girlfriend, no one really wanted me. All my fears had been confirmed.”
“Working, having a family, being active, or doing all the things a normal 30-something-year-old should do are no longer an option. But although pain may be inevitable, suffering is optional.”
“While driving in the car with the boys, I smelled something RANK. Like, totally disgusting, something died in this car, what the heck is that smell? RANK. I assumed it was my tiniest munchkin digesting his McDonalds, but I was also genuinely concerned for the butt that was making that incredible smell. When we turned into our destination and I finally had the chance to get a good look, I saw it.”
“Fate brought them together. They live in this bubble where they only have eyes for each other. They cannot bear to be apart. People doubted them, said it was ‘disgusting’ they were allowed to get married. 29 years later, disability or not, anything is possible with love. I think most of us could learn a thing or two from them.”
“I loved him more than to ever enable him. I loved him more than to ever give up on him. I love him more than to allow the guilt I feel over his death to consume me. I love him more than to lie about the anger I feel towards him for leaving me alone in this world, only to remember he did not leave me by choice. I love him more than to let people forget him.”
“I waited daily for the phone call that would tell me my daughter was dead. I planned her funeral. I did not sleep the entire night for years – always waiting for the ring of the doorbell. 18 months ago, she was living in the dumpster area of Taco Bell. She had sold her car for drugs. She weighed less than 100 lbs. Mariah celebrated a year sober yesterday. Do I trust her? Not fully. But she is sober. She is productive. She is happy. For today.”
