The Beginning:

Something very terrible is happening to my Mother. 

She’s not screaming, but right on the verge. She’s not moaning, but definitely groaning. After every tortured sound she makes, there is a loud splatter that follows.  

I don’t remember waking nor do I recall ever moving from my bed. I was frozen in my sheets, my hands clammy with sweat, fear only allowing me to listen.

You see, I was too young to understand.

I knew what was happening, but I didn’t understand.

Later, she came into my room and crossed her legs on the floor. 

Stop! Don’t come in!

Daughter, I’m alright now. 

But I wasn’t.

I didn’t sleep that night. Nor did I many nights after.

Several Years Later:

A disease rots inside my head. It’s not my fault though, it’s my Mother’s. I like to blame her because it makes me feel better. In reality, I loathe my young ignorant mind. It doesn’t know how much trouble it has gotten me into. Not a day has passed that I’ve been able to relish in peace. It’s exhausting. There are times my entire body is sore from terror. Days where adrenaline has run through for so long that I’m completely numb. Aches in my belly from lack of food.  

I’ve only done it twice my whole life. The years after remain an all time record, but my mind is left weak. Nevertheless, all I have to do is use the powers of my mind and I can prevent the worst things from happening. It’s just a bit manifesting and putting words out into the universe. Also known as a bunch of mumbo jumbo. Although according to the law of propaganda, “Repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth.” It has been most unfortunate that my mind has been surviving off of fascist mottos, but it works. But no one gets it. As much as I explain, yell, or cry it will never make sense. 

It’s all in your head.

I know that, but please-

Just stop thinking about it.

How? I can’t. I can’t stop.

Calm down.

I’m scared. Please say something. Tell me I’ll be okay, that it won’t happen.

This has got to stop.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I can’t keep doing this with you. 

I didn’t mean to keep you up. 

Aren’t you tired of this?

Yes. Help me. Please Mommy. 

I never acknowledged that this “disease” was a phobia. But it feels worse than any word could describe. Over the course of the year, I faced my fears like I never have before. It started in the fall. Everyone is sick this time of year. I got sick. I knew the end was near when I didn't have much time to panic. I could no longer think of anything, but the threat at the pit of my stomach. Too overwhelmed with terror, my legs moved faster than I could comprehend. My mind ran circles around itself. I needed to call Mom. Something bad was about to happen. I need help. 

At last, in over a decade of dread, it happened. Just like that. Less than a minute and I’m finished. The underside of my tongue was sore and I had stopped shaking. In a brief second of clarity, I felt relieved. But it only took that second for the fear to wash over me even stronger than before. 

I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. My throat is too tight. All my mind can think about is vomit. I am going to be sick. No you’re fine. No, I’m scared. 

My back is ramrod straight on the edge of the toilet while my entire body shakes. It’s the same feeling every time. A prickling sensation at the base of my spine that shoots directly to my heart which in return, hammers deep in my chest. My thoughts are rampant, one after another. My thumbs are sore from googling illnesses and their correlating symptoms. I refuse to open the toilet seat. If I do, my fear could become a reality. Food has become toxic to my body. It triggers my mind to spread terror throughout my body. Nowadays it seems my life is nothing but anxiety and dread. The panic attacks have come more frequently. When I eat, before I go to sleep, when I wake up, and when I go to school. They are like demons that visit only to torment me. They haunt and embarrass me. It’s all in your head. 

After several months the demons were quiet. I made a promise to myself to never let them in again even knowing it won’t be easy. I created checklists in my head that I constantly repeated when I was scared. Did I wait fifteen minutes after eating to make sure I didn’t consume my food too quickly? Yes. Has it been three hours after eating in case it’s either food poisoning or a stomach bug? Yes. Did you wash your hands and make sure the utensils were clean? Yes. On and on the list went. However, much to my dismay, these questions and answers only fueled my fear. The anxiety always returned. 

It’s why I blame my Mother. If only that awful stomach bug never made its way into her system then I would be free of this mental torment. If only she didn’t make those horrendous noises which left such a deep scar that has haunted me for years. I wish that I was smarter back then. That I could’ve deciphered fact from imagination. I couldn’t understand. It’s her fault I’m this way, not me. I never wanted this. Aren’t you tired of this?

My nerves betrayed me one night. They suffocated my mind until my body was physically reacting. I was indeed about to become sick and I did. But I made a promise. One I intended to keep. Aren’t you tired of this? Yes.

“I am in control” I repeat to myself. I throw up once more. I breathe. I don’t think, only repeat. “I will be okay, my body won’t hurt me.” 

And for the first time,

I was in control.