I remember being tiny, playing frog in a pond-themed kids' area in a mall. I remember slipping, falling, lying on a bench, unable to breathe or remember how I got there.
I remember being little, having a friend, a "friend", and a stuck-up brat. I remember ignoring Barbies and Bratz in favor of creating worlds in chalk on my friend's giant drive-way. I remember learning my first swear word. I remember forgetting it a few days after, only to remember learning it the next time I heard it, years later. I remember the first time I gave up on another person. I remember being teased, though I don't remember for what, by my "friend" and the stuck-up brat I remember leaving without telling anyone, walking the half-block home, being missed immediately. I remember my mother scolding me for worrying the brat's mom, only to stop reprimanding and start hugging when I burst into tears. I remember telling her, being told, very gently, to ignore her and the brat would stop, but to never leave without telling anyone again. I remember being coddled for the rest of the week.
I remember being homeschooled through fifth grade. I remember the first—the only—"D" I got on a report card. I remember realizing that I wasn't as smart as my siblings. I remember knowing that it wasn't going to be as easy for me. I remember the disappointed look in my parents' eyes. I remember realizing that they thought I hadn't tried. I remember promising myself to work as hard as possible so I never had to see that look again.
I remember Friday afternoons that stopped when I was seven or eight. I remember my Daddy coming home for lunch. I remember wrestling in the family room and people sandwiches on a golden couch. I remember learning to ride a bike. I remember falling, crying, being cheered up, getting back up and trying again. I remember Daddy-and-Me Days and Mommy-and-Me Days. I remember one day every four months, going out with one of my parents, doing whatever I wanted. I remember Atlantis and the Rain Forest Café and riding my bike through forests. I remember being happy.
I remember my big brother, the oldest of the four of us. I remember Weird Al and "Stairway to Heaven" and secret stashes of chocolate in his desk. I remember being teased by the brother between us. I remember my biggest brother sticking up for me. I remember the neighborhood boys teasing me, just because I was a girl. I remember both my brothers sticking up for me. I remember being loved.
I remember second grade. I remember getting bitten by my friend's dog over the summer. I remember going to Oregon, a single stitch still in my knee, unable to wade in the ocean with my siblings. I remember waking up one early September morning, not understanding what was going on. I remember trying to comprehend what was happening. I remember being seven and not getting it. I remember the "friend" and the stuck-up brat moving, getting a new neighbor, making friends. I remember that spring, going to New York with my Daddy for my Communion trip. I remember driving past the ruins of the World Trade Center, not being allowed in the Statue of Liberty, roller skating in Central Park, turning down a play on Broadway. I remember going to Washington, D.C. afterwards, meeting the rest of my family. I remember learning to read that summer. I remember yelling it down the stairs to my Mommy. I remember, "That's nice. Go back to bed." I remember running to my big brothers' room, yelling that I read a book. I remember a noise of disinterest, and "You probably just memorized it." I remember being crushed. I remember my older friend moving away. I remember getting closer and closer to my new friend and my little sister.
I remember 2003. I remember learning that my mom was going to have a baby. I remember my brother upset about the due date; it was six days before his birthday. I remember an emergency C-section almost a month before the due date. I remember her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck and could start choking her at any second. I remember being nine and not knowing what that meant and just being excited that we were having a baby! I remember my not-so-new-anymore friend being jealous but loving my baby sister to pieces.
I remember summer 2004. I remember drama camp. I remember acting in Annie. I remember a terrible night. I remember reading late and hearing shouting and my oldest brother's fist in the wall and him slamming the screen door as he ran away. I remember my mom crying and my dad shaking. I remember sitting with my other big brother and learning about what "drunk" meant. I remember being thirsty. I remember crossing the kitchen. I remember my oldest brother on the ground, handcuffed, shouting and swearing at the police. I remember my friend's dad coming to stay with us for the night. I remember Auntie taking over after that. I remember milkshakes that were supposed to make everything better. I remember the pact to keep this from the littlest two at all costs. I remember not being allowed to talk to "other people" about it. I remember translating that to "don't ever talk about this." I remember bottling everything up after that.
I remember starting regular school. I remember not knowing what to do. I remember not having a thick skin. I remember changing what I could so I would fit in better. I remember wearing skirts—even though I hated them—and pressuring my mom to let me start shaving—even though I didn't understand it—and starting to play sports—even though I didn't care about them. I remember still being teased for being the smartest, for actually reading when we were supposed to do, and even when we didn't have to do, but could if we wanted. I remember the best thing was the teachers. I remember wanting to get the hell out as soon as possible.
I remember my first crush. I remember not understanding it—why was I thinking about a woman like that? I remember being scared that something was wrong with me. I remember creating a fictitious crush and letting that leak so that no one learn how I was thinking about my teacher. I remember watching Tin Man and feeling the same way about the lead actress, Zooey Deschanel, and wondering what on God's green Earth was wrong with me. I remember hearing about "gay". I remember Googling it. I remember crying from relief.
I remember freshman year. I remember my brand new best friend on 22 April, 2008. I remember Doctor Who over the summer. I remember a hell of a car-pool and getting closer to my brother and the housing market crash and having to leave private school at the end of the year. I remember lying and keeping secrets. I remember leaning on my new show, praying with my wavering faith for a madman with a box to come rescue me. I remember my big brother leaving me.
I remember public school. I remember swim team and a determination not to make friends and a cold silence broken by a Doctor Who joke. I remember opening up to my team, finally telling someone about my sexuality, being accepted at face value.I remember coming out to my private school friends. I remember bullshit and fuckwittery and poor communication from everyone—including me. I remember everyone leaving me—or maybe it was me leaving everyone. I remember the fifteen minutes after every practice when we could just be stupid and laugh our asses off. I remember getting up every morning just for that. I remember my best friend coming back and the two of us wondering if we could ever again be what we were and healing our relationship and being stronger now than ever before and my promise never to go back. I remember becoming best friends with my little sister. I remember learning about my baby sister's mental health issues.
I remember my own mental health issues being identified. I remember being hurt and self-destructive. I remember my parents swallowing my lies. I remember when they finally didn't. I remember being promised that they had seen it before, that they just hadn't known what to do. I remember saying that it would have been so much better had they just called me on my bullshit in the beginning. I remember thinking that, at least then I wouldn't feel so goddamn invisible anymore. I remember starting to sort it with my parents' help. I remember not being able to talk to them. I remember they never made an effort to keep communication flowing. I remember, six months in, they figured I was okay and everything went back to "normal". I remember "Let's pretend this never happened." I remember going on without them. I remember having my friends to help.
I remember starting this blog. I remember longing to leave. I remember my first girlfriend. I remember why that didn't work. I remember my first boyfriend. I remember how much that didn't work. I remember getting my tattoo, my permanent reminder of love. I remember leaving. I remember leaving the hell my parents' house had become, but leaving my two best friends, too.
I remember finding my home. I remember making my new family. I remember the bliss of the summer, tainted only by what I didn't realize was an emotionally abusive relationship—though it was long distance. I remember refusing to put up with shit, even before I realized what it was. I remember breaking up with him in the worst fucking way possible. I remember starting moving into my dorm. I remember starting classes. I remember falling in love with my campus, with my professors—yeah, even the boring ones—with my social group, with my friends. I remember getting even closer to my big brother. I remember the first time my anxiety was accepted by an adult without need of proof or disappointment. I remember having problems and breakdowns and cry fests. I remember being happy anyway.
I remember my life tonight. I remember what I have done, what I have gone through and what I have gotten through. I remember that it could be worse. I remember that that's never much help. I remember all the scary things I still have to do. I remember my friends, my campus family, my big brother, my little sister, my best friend. I remember my own strength. I remember my strength when supported by all these people.
I remember that I can do anything.
Five days from nineteen, five days from the beginning of the year that will truly make me an adult, and I am not longer afraid. I store away the fear, though, and my subsequent vanquishment of it, for the next time I must remember.
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