The Door

I don't remember happiness. I know that I used to laugh a lot as a child. To run around and scream and jump. I played with other children often, or so I'm told. But I don't remember feeling joy.

I can't picture myself without a weight on my shoulders. When I crawl down memory lane, I grasp only shards of worry, anguish and despair.

One of the earliest moments is me banging on a door. It wasn't long after my brother's birth, I think? My grandmother wasn't far away. My father was above me, banging as well. He was pleading. My mother was on the other side of the door. It was a big, white door. I couldn't exactly reach for the handle.

Mum wasn't coming out of the bathroom. I didn't know why. All I understood was that Dad was scared. He wasn't acting like it. But he was. I knew that if Mum opened that door, all would be fine again. Something was happening to her in that bathroom that wasn't okay.

I don't remember the door opening.

My little brother came to me once, saying Mum was sleeping. He had a smile on his face. Have you ever seen someone smiling because their face didn't know what else to do? That's what he looked like.

We had moved. We were alone with Mum. I followed my brother and found her on her bed. She was more than napping. She was in the bathroom, and I was banging on the door. I didn't want my little brother to join me. But I didn't know how to fix it.

So I took his hand and said: "Mum is sick. I'm gonna call the doctor". 'Turns out, I was a clever kid. I hadn't learned my multiplication tables at the time. But I knew that you had to phone the Emergencies if you couldn't fix something. I was on the phone with them when my Dad arrived.

We stayed with our gran' for a few days.

The last time I was at my grandparents, the bathroom door wasn't looking like much. It was a small, thin wood panel. The paint was greyer. I opened it, and all I saw was a sink, a bathtub, and shelves. But my chest still hurts.

My brother doesn't remember the time Mum went napping. But I still struggle to breathe.

She lives far away now. Mum, that is. But she's still in the bathroom. And I'm still banging.