Stories for 100 Days of Writing

A Piece of Me is Missing

I'm leaving today, to fly to the other side of the world, you have all asked me why, so I feel you're owed a real explanation, not the one I've been giving you all. Have you ever heard the phrase 'There's a piece of me missing', well for a long time there was a huge piece of 'me' missing, it wasn't always missing, you understand. Do you know how that happens, if a child experiences something that is too hard for them to deal with their mind buries it, forgets it. However, it leaves a darkness that they don't even realise is there; it's not until they have the chance to compare notes with other adults that they realise that what they remember is not what others do. Childhood memories are fluid but certain memories are set, the home you grew up in, the school you attended and even pets you've had. It's only as you hear others talking that the truth becomes obvious, you don't remember any of these things, this is what happened to me.

There's a terrifying moment when you realise that your mind has blanked much of your young childhood. I moved from one part of the country to another when I was eight, for me a trauma in itself; I know where we moved from, I'd been told, but why we moved, I don't really know. Mum says it was because Dad needed to find work, later I wondered, I know the police were involved at some point while we lived there; I have spent many hours asking questions I may never get the answers to, not from her but from evidence, bits and pieces relatives have told me, and my own nightmares. There are fragments, good memories, but not enough to make my childhood viable. It was almost as if I didn't exist, I had a hole where my heart should have been, my mind was broken and I thought there was no way of repairing the damage.

Once I knew I was missing part of me I had suspicions, because of what happened later. I know all about the darkness in people you're supposed to trust, this was not supposed to be how a child grows up, with betrayal, unable to bring friends home, called a liar when I eventually told and ignored by everyone, only for it all to go back to their idea of normality.

So how did I find peace, that reconciliation with my missing past? I worked to find answers, not perhaps the solid answers that some seek, but to know there was a reason for the absence of 'me' for so long was an answer in itself. It's freed me from the darkness, it's set me on a path that is not so fragile, and I am more of a complete person than I used to be, so now I'm ready for a new adventure, a new start, I felt you all should know before I go.

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