Sometimes I crawl inside my mind and it is so dark, so lonely. In my chest I feel an ache, and I weep. It is my infant self weeping because I am left alone with my sadness, my fear, all the needs that I have no way of fulfilling for myself. My mother thought that by doing this, by leaving me alone to cry until I gave up, or until I was so exhausted I fell asleep, that she would keep from spoiling me. Meaning she would make things easier on herself. She would not have to spend all that time holding me. Solid foods at six weeks. Potty training by a year, she swears. Grow up, Sharon. I love you, but please don’t be a burden.
Still now, this is my goal, that I not be a burden. I will do it myself. I will leave if I must. It has become my own choice, most of the time. But still now I ache and I weep, my infant self, my grown up self, because this is not what love is.