When I was 6 years old, I would sit in my grandmother's rocking chair, looking at plaster smears on the walls. My parents bought an Old Victorian for a song, it was a bikers' den. There was shitty graffiti on the walls. A fixer-upper wouldn't give credit to it's abuse. A home, with gorgeous bones and structure, abused, the crown molding was kicked in. The stained glass windows, smashed. A victim of the swift kick of suburban sprawl, yet dignified. Her bones were never broken by the misplaced anger of the brutes who strove to be pirates...but she kept those memories in the rafters, her windows always rattled. Strong and broken. My father, fresh out of Vietnam, fell in love.
My mother says they bought that old grey Victorian together, but it was really my father's white whale. There never seemed a job to big for this giant, this 6'5 marine with hands that could encompass the moon, as far as I new. He worked on that house all seasons, all weather, and I sat, drawing pictures in the dust with my toes, happy.
There were days, I felt so safe. So enveloped by this enormous house. I found comfort in the smells of fresh paint and sawdust. When I turned 7, something changed.
It began when I convinced myself I was going blind. It was a thought that wouldn't leave. I had to check. And check..and check. I started to fear rust. I was told I needed a tetanus shot, as one needs one every few years, but it was my first. A regular round of shots. I asked my mother why I needed it, she proceeded to tell me about tetanus. I was horrified, but entranced.
I made it a mission to explore diseases. More to find, or try to find, peace of mind. There was nothing. Just pain and death.
Time went on, and I entered adolescence. I was confident, a thriving member of a community theatre company, and it happened. I was struck so hard, I felt my mind go...my hands shake...the room looking as though it was an Escher painting.
For the first time in 4 years of theater, I couldn't go on. I felt death approaching, strangling and crushing. My life changed after that day.
I seek solace in the future, but I know I have a disease. A hormone imbalance. I need medication to function. Everyone has a story under the mask. This is mine.