i was little isabelle again, 7 years old, holding onto mommy’s legs and begging her to stay. but she had her bags packed and her keys in her hand and dammit, she was leaving, even if it killed her. she was ‘escaping’, because she couldn’t handle us anymore. i wailed and screamed and cried so hard i started throwing up. i was terrified. how could a mother just leave? i felt so abandoned and she hadn’t even stepped a foot out of the house. i cried and yelled and begged and promised and prayed she’d stay, she was everything to me. i couldn’t live without my mommy.

jump to halfway through 8th grade, tuesday night, algebra test in the morning. bleeding nose, a black eye, and a broken heart. just try to picture it. my mother, bloody knuckled, yelling in the living room at her husband. “too fat”, “too lazy”, “too fucking stupid”. not just him, all of us. my brother sitting in his room trying to keep the attention off of him, even though his mistakes caused the fight. now imagine a weeping 13 year old, ice pack to her cheekbone, tissue to her nose, and blood on her shirt. betrayed, angry, sad… more than willing to hand her mother the keys and let her leave. hell, she’d hold the door open for her and start the car if necessary. i was so frustrated and so surprised and so disappointed and i felt emotions i couldn’t put names to. i wanted to cry and scream and die and a lot of other unhealthy things. still with me?

now cut to second period advanced communications. the class is laughing because someone picked on the class clown, the teacher is laughing because he’s glad someone said it before he did, and i’m crying in my seat, trying to dry it up before anyone notices. 

repressed memories are great.

..until they come flooding back and drown you.