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Wednesday, November 07, 2007

my earliest childhood memories

Please note that I am not here to belittle the sacrifices my parents made to have me as their daughter. They are the best parents I can have. I am doing this to help me understand my depression and anxiety so that I can save money on therapy and get myself off Xanax, (which I find myself getting resistant to, which signifies the beginning of addiction.) Earliest childhood memories probably explain a lot of things that are, now. It was used in James Frey's A Million Little Pieces regarding his inexplicable anger. It seems telling in Lionel Shriver's We Need To Talk About Kevin. So I will do the same here. Tell me if you have any advice.

I remember sadness. But I thought it was either normal or I was just being troublesome and attention seeking. I remember missing my parents so badly because they were at work and I was at home without them. I remember missing them so much that I took out photo albums and cried over my parents' pictures. My parents finally come home at say, eight in the evening, and I run to my mom crying and hugging her but she felt I was being childish. I was never allowed to cry because crying was wrong. The first time I cried guilt-free in front of my parents was when I was seventeen years old.

I remember simply not feeling like playing with my neighbours one day; I locked them out of my house and refused to answer while they kept calling me to let them in as was our usual afternoon playtime tradition. My maid asked me why and I just told her not to let them in. I shut my room windows so they wouldn't see me.

I remember once in kindergarten I was really happy that my mom stayed home from work because I was ill. It was one of the best afternoons of my life then.

I remember not being able to sleep. I faked sleep. I forced sleep. I stared into darkness for the longest time, imagining I was climbing my cupboard or flying in space. I stared, awake. It felt like an hour like this, every night.

I remember my dad and mom locking me in the bathroom once because I was disobedient. That was my most horrific punishment as a child. Worse than the time they threw me out of the house when I was ten.

These are my earliest memories. Sadness is normal. Happiness is an anomaly. Joy is a blessing. Laughter is a relief. Sadness is my norm.