Here I am drowning in misery asking why God gave me this life.
Here asking God why and 11 years later, still asking why.
Just woke up from yelling at my two brothers who made a rumble of noise across the room from winning some battle they were playing, having my mom yell across the hall, “Be quiet or I will call the police.”
Waking me up from bed and opening the door, I yelled back at them starting the argument our mother started about calling the police and realized that my now 29 year old brother looks back at me and gives me that look as I close the door.
Then I woke up.
Was this really a dream?
It felt so real.
As I realized my surroundings, I was back in my room.
Waking out of bed and realizing that I am here in my room this whole time.
Then I realized it was a triggered memory from another dimension.
I grew up in a dysfunctional home and became a victim of domestic violence.
What is behind the red door is what saved me from the outside world.
Another sheltered home.
It has been 11 years later that I am now looking around and started staring at the pretty little fish as everyone else is sleeping.
He is still broken.
He has not died yet.
As I am watching this pretty little fish dying, I realized how short life really is.
He is trying so hard to survive as I tap the fish tank.
He moves slower every time I tap.
One day he will finally stop moving away from his misery.
My roommates and I made jokes about the poor pretty fish and wrote “The fish is broken.”
It is broken because as a 4 year old fish, his life was leaving his body day by day.
Broken and bended sideways at the bottom of the tank, he is struggling to move until his dying day.
Should I put it out of his misery or should I let it live?
That question alone is sad to say.
I continue to tap and he stopped moving but struggles by moving his tiny mouth.
He does not have much time left.
I say this as Sunday becomes morning.
Soon everyone will realize that the fish is dead.
It is about to be 7AM Sunday morning.
I put the fish tank back.
I made a mess, water everywhere.
Getting paper to clean up, I take a note from the Hope Jar.
“I am not my circumstance.”
Not satisfied, let me pick another one.
Oh is a personal note I wrote myself:
Stress less
1. Dance it out
2. Go for a walk
3. Talk about it
4. Breathe
5. Go to bed earlier
6. Focus on what you can control
7. Reminisce about good times
8. Ask for a Hug
9. Look for opportunities in life challenges
10. Smile
I wrote this to feel better.
I am still not satisfied.
I have not felt myself since I was 19.
11 years later.
At 19, I was in a good place in life.
I finally had friends and I was the leader of my own circle.
My college beginnings after school, I hanged out with my circle and did not have to work a full time job.
In year 2005, I just graduated from Lynn Classical High School and ended up going to North Shore Community College.
I felt freedom at last.
It is 2008 and finally lost control.
11 years later, I am starting to put the pieces together.
I can write this letter about how I lost my son, when I really mean to say I really lost myself in the illusion of having my son.
This moment alone is a tragic event that broke me into pieces and every year I put my pieces together, the puzzle is never completed.
I write this letter to myself.
I need to forgive myself for what happened.
I need to find ways to feel complete.
Now my health is at risk and I don’t want to be that dying fish waiting for his last day.
Sad to say, broken heart-ed.
