I was scared for my life.
I knew my parents were going to kill me.
I had been warned not to play with the china doll, but I had a hard time with rules even then.
I was so ashamed.
I worried constantly that I would be found out, that my parents would actually kill me and bury me in the backyard by the birch tree.
Months later my dad and I took our first solo trip to Toronto to see the Leafs play.
We took the train and talked the whole way down, I probably annoyed the crap out of him with my questions and my stories but he sat there and listened patiently with his arm around me the entire time.
I was so happy and so comfortable with him.
It was my nine year old heaven.
As we got closer to Toronto, I can clearly remember thinking......
"this is it, this is my chance to tell him... he can't kill me with all these people around"
The confession started with the words no parent ever wants to hear:
"I have to tell you something really really bad"
It came out in the same sort of "verbal diarehha" way I speak today.
In haste I also copped to the fact I was the one that had called the WWF hotline to hear the macho man randy savage tell me to have a good day.... several times actually... over the corse of a single day.
I know I cried and he held me for a long time and promised me that as soon as we got home we would fix that china doll together and that he nor my mother would not actually kill me and bury me out by the birch tree.
He wasn't kidding either.
The next day he and I went and bought the glue and sat out at the kitchen table and piece by piece glued the china doll back together, all the while my mum stood in kitchen telling me how everything was always fixable."Everything" she kept repeating.
The relief I felt was overwhelming.
I knew it was going to be ok.
I have spent most of my life reliving the same cycle with those closest to me.
My actions are typical when things aren't ok.
I push.
and I push.
and I push.
I live in a dark world alone, with brief phone calls and quick bullshit email updates, and excuses of why I can't come or how tired I am.
But, it's no longer just my parents that can spot this happening.
It is those closest to me.
They know.
They always know.
They know when my mind starts to fade to that dark black part that I can't seem to shake some days.
And what I've learned is that they collectively push harder than I do.
They fight the way into that dark place and drag me out of it kicking and screaming the whole time.
They smother me like you would with a blanket when someone's on fire.
I love them for it. All of them, More than I could ever explain.
Because they know it's not "me".... and they want "me" to be here with them.
The support that I have in my life is not something that is easy to explain....
It had always been there, but a lot like my confession to my dad on the train that day, I just to learn that needed to say it all out loud.
I shake my head in disbelief most days that this is my life because things are good.
Really good.
The darkness still finds its way into my mind.
But they know.
They always know.
And they come to get me.........even when I push.
The Leafs lost the night my dad and I took our trip..... but I think you could have guessed that on your own.
