"I thought I was going to die." My mother, 9 months pregnant was waddling through the parking lot of the mall. "It was June. In Houston. So humid. I lost the car. I walked and walked. I thought I was going to die." This is the first story my mother tells of my existence. Notice a few things here: 1. The focus isn't on me. 2. The story involves inconvenience, discomfort and a general sense of misery. 3. The story doesn't end with, "I found the car. I got in the air-conditioning and felt so much better. I was so happy." There is no happy ending. Ever. That basically sums up my mother's perception of the world and life. Both hers and mine.
"I was sick. I mean, I was really, really sick." My father recalled the night before I was born. "I was in the waiting room and it was obvious you weren't coming that night. So I went home. I was really sick." This is the first story my father tells of my existence. Again, notice a few things here: 1. The focus isn't on me. 2. The story involves inconvenience, discomfort and a general sense of misery. 3. The story doesn't end with, "I went home and got some sleep. Early the next morning I came back to the hospital and there you were. I was so happy." There is no happy ending. Ever. And even if my father felt there was he would of been told by my mother he couldn't have a happy ending. Too bad.
So armed with depression and anxiety my parents brought me into the world. This is my story. It is a story of love, struggle, determination, success, failure, sarcasm, music, humor, friends and family. And guess what? There IS a happy ending.
No comments:
Post a Comment