I forgot our anniversary

And that may be a good thing

Half my life we’ve been together.

Half.

I don’t fully remember what it feels like to not have you in my life.

I think I romantisize everything that came before, especially the good stuff. It’s all very flowery in my mind.

Seven years after we met I prayed and prayed you’d leave. Seven is supposed to be the number of completion right?

Not.

In this case.

Maybe 10 years would prove luckier for me.

Nope.

But every year after October 2001, I mourned our anniversary.

Around that time each year since, I asked all the questions:

why me? what have I done wrong? why can’t I be a normal teenager? why can’t I be a normal young woman? why is my faith not moving this mountain? is my family ashamed of me? am I better off dead? how will I live like this forever?

You started as a seed that I didnt know was planted in my mind by genetic predisposition.

You grew, and my silence watered you.

And together we worried, panicked, peeled our cuticles raw, agonised, cried, and smiled to cover it all up.

And you thrived.

My anxiety. because you are mine- you are part of me.

You’ve lived rent-free in my mind for half my life.

But I will make you pay your dues!

I will drain every ounce of knowledge I have gained to leave a positive mark on this world.

I will wring your neck till I am satisfied that I know how to help others survive in spite of you.

Do you see? October 2016 came and went, and it didn’t even occur to me that that was the point when I’d lived my life with you just as much as I’d lived without you.

It only hit me today. In November.

And there’s more: I am getting help. And I’m saying your name out loud without the fear that you will beat me down in punishment.

And I know you aren’t a punishment for anything I did wrong. That’s not how faith works.

And I know that we will likely reside together till my time here is over.

And I know that there will still be times when I have to pull back from everything to take a few deep breaths because you’re clawing away at me.

I will still have to ignore you when you throw accusations at me.

But today my questions have changed. I am now asking:

how can I cope in spite of this? how can I make sure my family and friends know that I won’t cover up from them any more? how can I help others? how can I collaborate with others to set a new course of hope for sufferers?

So you see, it is now me who is thriving.