There was one home where they made us haul wood before breakfast and they didn't believe in eating dinner. There was another home where they tied my hands to the chair and force-fed me because I wouldn't eat.
These are my memories.
Last week, I wrote in my notebook: "Something happened this morning, like a door opened inside my heart and memories came rising to the surface, and the memories were so full of power I found myself shivering under the weight of stories I haven't told (Not in a long time. Not like this). I feel like I just laid claim to my own history: like planting a flag at the top of a mountain."
I've been waiting until I found the right way to start, but my heart says, Don't wait. My heart says, Now is the time. So I'll stand up and speak even though my knees are shaking. Even though I'm afraid.