I used to think I was the family secret. The annoyance in the room that everyone tried their best to ignore to keep the party bright. The problem no one wanted to face, especially when I showed up with scratches on my face, a black eye, or the nervous twitch that got worse when my father yelled, or my stepmother came near. I assumed I was the cause of her bitterness, of my father's anger, or my parent's constant fighting. No one explained why people disregarded my obvious pain while every itch of my siblings or cousins were fussed over as if fatal. My aunt made excuses for why it was so hard for me, and grandma slipped me cash to buy some sweets, as if that could have made things better.
When my real family found me many decades after I was taken from them - the family who took me in when I became a motherless infant, I found many other secrets, some trivial and funny, some huge and life altering. Although most of us survive our youth, and we may survive many of our family secrets, we will never be without a scar. These secrets and scars form our life and character. We can decide if they define us. You don't have to let them.
My book will be published in Spring 2024 by She Writes Press
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