I've loved cats for as long as I can remember. Here I am with my friend, Mason, at a local cat shelter.
I've always loved cats.
I've always considered them good friends and fantastic listeners. I
always knew I'd have a cat when I became old enough to move out and
live on my own. What I didn't know is how much my cats would change
me or my life.
A Rough Start
My life had a rocky start.
At five months of age, I became a survivor of Shaken Baby Syndrome.
From what I've been able to piece together through family members, my
foster mother, and the newspaper, the violent shaking resulted in one
or both of my arms being broken, a broken breastbone, damage to my
optic nerve, and blood pooling in the back of my eyes. While surgeons
were able to drain the blood from the back of my eyes, I was left
with a degenerative eye condition called optic atrophy.
Unfortunately, my vision has worsened over the span of my life thus
far. While I'm very thankful for the vision I still have, I'm
terrified of how much more vision I'll lose – especially when I
notice my condition progressing.
I spent six weeks in the
hospital where I developed meningitis and temporarily lost my ability
to hear. After I was released from the hospital, I was placed into
foster care for approximately six months. I was eventually returned
to my parents' custody.
This event has always
caused me to feel a lot of shame. I was told that I should never
speak the truth about what happened to me. I was told to blame my eye
condition on the meningitis instead. I was told that if I told the
truth, people would think that I was a bad baby. The shame I still
feel over this event is absolutely overwhelming.
As a child, I never felt I
was good enough for my parents. I was always compared to my sister. I
felt like she was the, “good” daughter and I was the, “bad”
one. Everyone could see that we were treated differently, and many
people told me about their observations when I became a young adult.
Emotions were not valued
in our household. If I tried to express myself, I was either ridiculed or discounted. Even laughter and happiness seemed to be
unacceptable.
My severe vision
impairment was a source of tension in the home. I always felt like I
was in the way. I needed to be right next to the television to see
it, for instance, which annoyed some family members.
Verbal and emotional abuse
were a constant presence in my life. In addition to that, I felt my
parents were emotionally distant. While my father and I have a pretty
decent relationship now, we had a rocky one while I was growing up. I
know now that he always loved me and my sister, but I didn't feel
loved by him during my childhood. My dad expresses love in a less
obvious way than I needed him to. While he always said he loves me if
I told him I love him, I felt disappointed that I always had to
initiate that exchange.
My dad used to be a very
angry person. It wasn't until he spent several years with my stepmom,
Marie, that he really changed. I credit her for helping him become
the person I think he was always meant to be. While I am not as close
to my dad as I would like to be, we can now have civil conversations,
and he tells me he loves me without me having to prompt him to say
it, which makes me really happy.
