On the 13th. I was a little busy this year trying not to have a baby- but the 13th did not go by unnoticed, especially because it was a Friday.
13 years ago I went to Utah. 13 years ago my life changed. 13 years ago....
My mom wonders why I do not just let it go. Why I still think about it. Why I am still dealing with it. Why it hasn't become something mundane.
Honestly, I do not anticipate it will ever be something mundane. I do not think I will ever let it go. How can I? How can I let go- essentially being kidnapped in the middle of the night by 2 strangers to fly across the country with my parents blessing, taking only a teddy bear, my violin, and my favorite book (I have always been a book nerd).
I remember it all so clearly, but like I was watching it, in the third person. It was cold (duh), there was a lot of snow. We got to the airport and the escorts (there are actual companies who supply people to take teens to treatment centers) and I had developed a report enough so that they let me go to the bathroom alone.
When I think back to that day, I have a reaction that I cannot explain. It is a visceral gut reaction. My chest burns. My eyes water. My breath is short. I become confused and disoriented. I cannot think of words to describe it.
So yeah. 13 years.