Prologue                                                  U2: With or Without You

I am lucky to be alive today, given the life I led. Given what was done to me and what I, in turn, did to myself. It saddens me to look back, to see myself as a small child, a child consumed by fear, fear of loss, and fear of abandonment.  Or as a teenager filled with angst and with anger, hovering constantly at the edge of a steep cliff, poised at any moment to dive deep into a dark abyss. Or as a young adult so full of self hatred and self loathing that she would give anything or be anything to be accepted, to be wanted. It scares me to put myself back in that place where I felt so utterly, completely alone.

It all started with my father, who checked out of my life even before he checked out of life in general. His absence during my formative years impacted my development more than his DNA did, more than the genes he would have passed along to me in my creation. When my father abandoned me and my family, he robbed me of my childhood, of my sense of security and personal safety. He left me raw and vulnerable, full of sadness and full of guilt. He forced me to grow up overnight from a naïve child to a battered and bruised mini-adult before I had even lost my first tooth. Before I had the skills and the tools to play the poor hand I was dealt.

Unfortunately, the losses didn’t end there; my father’s departure was only the first in a row of dominos toppling down, one on top of the other. By the time I reached puberty, I had become an expert at loss and losing loved ones. I had been forced into more “adult” situations than any one child should have to face, and I was thrust into this sudden maturity unprepared, ill equipped to deal with the ramifications, the feelings these traumas produced. And worst of all, I struggled through all of this alone, with only my fear and my angst as my companions. Yes, I interacted with many people, and yes, there were others in my life who helped shape me -relatives, friends, teachers. But despite the best intentions of those around me, I felt cut off from the rest of the world. Isolated in my grief, my worry, and my remorse. In order to protect myself, in order to safeguard my feelings, I was forced to build a wall of self preservation around myself, a large brick wall that would allow no one else inside. I figured no one would understand what I was going through anyway. Or care.

Even my mother had no clue what was going on inside me. She had her own demons to battle and by the time her war with her emotions was over, I was too far gone to need her any longer. I had already withdrawn deep inside myself, started down my own path towards a place where no one could join me, where no one could touch me, where no one could hurt me. I had my own mission by the time my mother was able to come up for air, and she was not invited along on my journey. My journey to prove myself worthy to the world, worthy enough not to be abandoned again. It became my all-consuming focus, my all-consuming goal, to make myself perfect.  Perfect in every way, shape and form. A perfect student, a perfect daughter, a perfect friend, a perfect girlfriend. I had to act perfect and I had to look perfect. After all, perfect people didn’t get left, or left behind. Unfortunately for me, my quest to be perfect nearly killed me.

Between my angst and my constant drive to be perfect, I found little time to be happy growing up. As a result, I do not look back on my formative years with wistful nostalgia. I do not remember feeling that the world was a magical place open to exploration and endless possibilities. The carefree childhoods about which my friends reminisce seem about as relatable to me as the soothing fairy tales of childhood books.  Ironically, the nostalgic times and fairy tale experiences happened for me much later in my life, and in the most unexpected places, when it was almost too late for me to want to let them in. First, I had to learn the hard way how to love and how to live. I had to experience a lifetime of tragedies during my first twenty-five years on this earth. However, I do not regret this troubled journey which was my life, for without any of the events that occurred during my childhood, I would not be who I am today. Unfortunately, this insight comes only with hindsight, being “found” by the right person… and finally discovering happiness.