my first time
the first time i knew what happiness felt like, i was 5.
we would go to my grandparent’s house and read books. i would make a b-line to the bookcase, look up at the towering structure, and pick a few. i would go to the fridge to snag some of the snacks my grandma had picked up especially for me and add those to the endless pile of junk in my arms. i would find my cousin and pull him aside to the quietest possible room, lie on the floor, and have him read these books about animals and fantasy worlds to me while i chowed down on a carton of dib’s. i was at peace. away from all the chaos of the adult world that i could not yet understand. just me and these stories i wanted so badly to spend the rest of my life with. that was the first time i experienced joy.
the first time i knew what laughter felt like, i was 7.
i met the first person in my life i would call a best friend. i would go to her house almost every day and we would do cute sleepover things, like give each other what we thought were spa treatments, go sledding when it snowed out, dance on her bed listening to whatever the newest pop songs were, watch movies, and sometimes make some of our own. i experienced a lot of firsts with her actually. no one made seven year old me happy like she did. we grew apart eventually though. she moved across the country and i was too young to understand that we would never see each other again. i still think about her and the moments we had together a lot. that was the first time i knew how it felt to laugh until your stomach hurt.
the first time i knew what anger felt like, i was 9.
my parents started arguing a lot. i would wake up in the morning to the sound of yelling downstairs about how messy the house was. those feelings they had toward each other began to transfer to me and i often aimed it toward them, mostly my father. he got angry at me a lot after getting fired up and we never really got along after this. he would swear at me and i would cry out of frustration. i would run to my room, slamming the door behind me, which only pissed him off more. i think i threw a book at him once. that was the first time I knew what anger felt like.
the first time i knew what depression felt like, i was 11.
i stopped eating. i couldn’t even look in the mirror. i was 11 and i couldn’t even look at myself without comparing myself to other girls and feeling ashamed. i started having attendance issues because i never wanted to get out of bed to go to the elementary school that was a 4 minute drive from my house. i just pretended to be sick. my parents were upset with me, but i couldn’t bring myself to care. that was the first time i felt the numbness that was depression.
the first time i knew what anxiety felt like, i was 12.
i was pulled into the counseling office from my fifth-grade class along with 3 other girls. they found out through notes we’d been passing that we’d been cutting ourselves. the questions they asked were too personal. too detailed. just being in that room and hearing those voices made my heart rate spike. i froze up and didn’t even know what to say. i didn’t want to be there. i wanted to be anywhere but there. other kids around school started finding out why we were leaving class every day. they brought us to that room during class for a week until they told us they were going to bring our parents in and tell them. face to face. i still cringe when i think about being in that room. that was when i had my first anxiety attack.
the first time i knew what heartbreak felt like, i was 14.
i had always known my dad had brain cancer, but could never fully comprehend it or understand what it meant until he started falling around the house. it started out small, just him falling to the ground while doing everyday things and my small 130 pound self having to help him back up or call my mom to come home to get help. until one night, i woke up to ambulances outside of my house at 4am. it was thanksgiving. i spent the whole day alone. he would never come back home after this. that was the first time i truly experienced a broken heart.
the first time i knew what falling apart felt like, i was 15.
my dad moved into hospice care. the first time i visited him in the hospice home, everyone was crying and i didn’t know what to do. he couldn’t talk. he couldn’t move. he couldn’t do anything. my mom and i went into the room alone. she started talking to him and asked me if i wanted to once she had finished. “he can hear you,” she said, “he just can’t answer”. i didn’t know what to say. i started saying stupid stuff trying to be funny and lighten the mood. my mom started crying on me. “i don’t know how you can be so strong”, she said through her tears. little did she know in that moment, i felt the weakest i had ever felt. looking from my decaying father to my shriveling up mother, i knew i had to go along with it and be who my family saw as the strong one. we lost him a week after that. my mom called me from the hospice home. i was expecting to hear the usual “remember to let the dog out, do your homework”, but instead when i answered, i got “dad passed away this morning”. my whole body went numb. that was the first time i knew what completely falling apart felt like.
the first time i knew i had to turn my life around, i was 16.
about a year after the events of my father, i found myself in a bad place. a place of addiction and bottling everything i’ve ever experienced up within myself until i reached horrible breaking points. sure, i began taking college courses and started doing some community service, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like i had no worth. i picked up drinking. i picked up smoking. i took whatever i could get to make myself feel something. i tried to end my life. i felt ashamed, not for the first time. i felt heartbreak, not for the first time. but recently, for the first time, i feel like i can be more than the person i currently am. i can be the person i aspire to be. i can achieve whatever i put my mind to even if i have no idea what i want out of the future. i can turn my life around. i can be better than this. i will be better than this.
the first time i knew i had the courage to better myself was now.
