Noreen left Ireland to attend the top ballet school in Toronto at the age of 16. Her painful experience at the school causes her to develop dark feelings she has never felt before. She becomes a threat to herself. Now 21, she calls a number she hasn...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I try not to cry when I look at old photos of myself.
And I try not to cry when I listen to songs.
But today, I failed.
How does one keep dry eyes when The Scientist, or Yellow starts playing?
I grew up listening to Coldplay, Alicia Keys, Dan Moen, and Midnight Crew playing all over the house. It's a weird combination of artists, but my family was a weird combination of people.
Every Sunday morning, we would wake up to worship music playing, and my older siblings would be sweeping, dusting, and doing any work my parents told them to. I was too young to do any of the tasks, so I would often be following my dad around the house. Playing with his ties and perfumes. Then my mother would dress me up in a cute church dress, with black, blocky shoes and tights.
Everyone at church was friendly, and adored our family. I would play with Azi, Amy, Boka, and the other kids. Someone's mum would always bring Irish Tea Cake for everyone to enjoy after service. Then we would go to the park or something.
Every picture my finger touches makes my yearn for the old days.
When life was heaven.
My big afro hair in mini twists, the smile that always rested on my face, the innocence I held.
Adora's grey hair is held in a bonnet, her short legs crossed on my bed. She uses her hands to dry my tears.
"Why do you keep looking at these photos if you're gonna weep about it?"
"Adora, you gave me these photos, what did you expect me to do?"
She shrugs, "I gave you these things to help you remember, and tell you that life doesn't have to go down in a pit. No knife should take the joy of life away from you."
Adora grabs my arms to check for any cuts. I haven't harmed myself in almost two weeks, not because she took the sharp, silver objects away, but because I haven't had any suicidal thoughts.
I think I'm realizing that I made a good decision; I wake up in a warm bed, I have my early morning therapy sessions with Adora, help her prepare food or clean the gardens, I eat well, I read tons of book, sometimes the bible, hang out with my friends, and play with my nieces and nephew.
But memories of the past creep up from time to time.
She picks up The Sea, "you read this yet?"
I shut off the CD player.
"I find it infuriating."
Adora smacks her lips, like every Nigerian does.
"Don't make me slap the sense into your head Nor girl." she jokes.
I explain to her that the book holds too much similarity for me to admit that it's a great book.
