4th grade ( the first time)

Two days back in my home town and already I feel like crying. No, to be exact I wish I could cry , wail my way back to happiness . Along with the usual feelings a being out of place, being disconnect from my family and insecurities -I'm depressed. I find myself tearing up at irrational time and unable to sleep. North bound trip home is in order soon and /or Prozec.
Te real problem isn't that this is the place I grew up so much as it the place I survived. The happiest time have been those times when sometimes I was upset, sometimes I laugh, made a ass out of myself but I always felt alive. In my parents house and being a dyslexic queer, required that I feels nothing. Disassociation equals survival.

In fourth grade (the first time) a teacher held my head in place and make me stare at a paragraph, telling me I wasn't trying . I actually spoke up for myself ( always a big mistake) and said I was trying and started crying. She stuck me across the face.

I lived in fear of father finding out that I cried and beating me...worst yet shaming me, calling me names... like little girl . Sleepless nights occurred parents called , mental health was recommended and of course the shaming . In the end it came down to me apologizing to father and my teacher, my exacts words were," I sorry I'm not crazy I'm just lazy".

Now my borderline mother has passed, my fathers is new gentler kinda man, Giving and loving with girl friend and her family.
I was diagnosed as dyslexic 13 years ago But I spent too many years surviving by being invisible. Somewhere, Somehow I think a good crying is in order