The Scars That Keep Me Going

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't handle the pressure anymore. I had to leave. I left everyone and everything behind. Don't worry I'm not being dramatic or anything. It's only for one weekend. It's not like I went far either, or off into the middle of nowhere. I simply went to a cabin near a lake my family used to visit when I was a kid. I needed this though. I'm not being selfish. I'm just doing what's best for me in this moment, because if I don't do it now, I don't know if I can recover later.

I don't even know why I choose here. Maybe because its familiar. I can remember the first time I came here. I was six years old. That's also the time I remember keeping my first scar. My parents were in the cabin unpacking things and getting settled in. Of course, I didn't want to do something boring like that, so I went outside and walked around. I was getting ready to go down by the lake, when a tree caught my attention. I don't why it did. There was nothing special about the tree. Maybe because it was still kind of small. My first thought was wondering if I could climb it. There weren't really any trees back home that I could climb, so I had never climbed a tree before. Being curious I decided to try it.

I walk up to the tree and tilt my head all the way back to look at it at its full height. My hands started to feel a little sweaty, so my brilliant idea was to rub some dirt on my hands to dry them off. Well, it didn't help any. Right before I was about to climb onto the first branch I looked around, and noticed some chairs sitting near a fire pit. I decided to take one of the chairs and give myself a boost onto the first branch. Hey, baby steps am I right? So of course, getting onto the first branch was no problem. I started to get nervous, but the next branch was close and after a few minutes I managed to get myself onto it. The third branch was a bit harder to reach. After trying a few different things, I ultimately fell out of the tree. Don't worry. I was okay, just a little scrape on my knee. But of course, at six years old I thought I was dying. So, I limped back up to the house balling my eyes out so that my mom could take care of me. And like any other mother she scolded me for not being careful, and like any other child I nodded along knowing full well I wasn't going to listen. So, the next day I was back at it, and by the end of the trip I was able to climb to the top like I was a monkey. After that trip, I told the story about my scar with pride.

Over the next few years, going to the cabin by the lake became a family tradition. My parents even ended up buying the cabin. It was my favorite place to go, until I was 14. It was the summer before I started high school. I was already having a tough time. Except for two, I was starting to lose my friends. Not necessarily on bad terms, we just didn't have much in common anymore. With one of the two friends that I did manage to stay good friends with was moving, and I was scared I was going to lose them as a friend too. On top of all that, my home life wasn't getting any better either. They tried to hide it, but it was obvious my parents were fighting. One night where it looked like some bad weather was coming through, we decided to stay in and have dinner at the cabin. No one said anything. My dad was cooking dinner, and I tried my best to help, but I hated cooking, so I didn't do very much. My mom sat on the couch reading some book. I remember noticing she didn't look like she felt good. When dinner was ready, we all sat at the table, and still no one said anything. At the end of dinner my dad made some comment, and I was confused. Whatever it was made no sense to me. Next thing I know my mom is yelling. I didn't want to listen, but there was nowhere for me to go in the cabin to get away from it. So, I sat there, in my seat. It was like I was glued to it. I couldn't move. Then my mom says the magic words that make my dad go silent. I want a divorce. Both my dad and I looked at her in silence. She began crying, and just as I thought things couldn't get worse, it did. She said she was pregnant. I sat there trying my hardest to not cry, still a few tears managed to escape. Before my dad could respond. My mom left. That was the last time I saw her. I found out a year later that she gave birth to a stillborn. I had a baby brother. I still visit his grave to this day. I visit with him on the day of his birthday. After a few years I convinced my dad to come with me. My dad and I tried to keep going to the cabin every year since then, but it wasn't the same.