No Regrets, Only Memories

The Nights

Getting ready for the track felt futile today, to the point that I didn't join the team in preparing the car like I normally would. My excuse was that I wanted to try keeping my focus solely on the race. I needed to be away from the grid, but close enough to be called over when asked. That left me sitting at the back of the grid, just a few feet behind the last cars and down the middle so I could see everything. I sat with my arms wrapped around my legs that were pulled up to my chest and a pair of headphones over my ears, ironically a gift from Daniel.

'Everyday' by Logic was playing in my ears. It had come up in the shuffle, but now it was motivation. All the hard work brought me here to this moment. I didn't pay my way here. I didn't fuck my way here. I earned my way here. The idiotic actions of my best friend wouldn't be what stops me from doing something anymore either. He had his chance to do well and I was given mine. If the team wanted me to race, I would race and I would do well.

Even if that meant hurting my already ailing friend, I was doing it to put him in his place. The thought repeated in my head as the team started up the car and coached me through the motions of the formation lap. I didn't need their help, but I had to focus and I needed to listen to the team.

Which worked until just the third lap when my battery started having issues. I was angry, screaming at the wheel in front of me for a few moments as the team worked to resolve the issue. My radio was off, but I couldn't help but talk my way through the issue. Repeating in my head exactly what the steps for addressing the issue was the only thing that calmed me down. Reverting to my old technique of using procedures to eliminate emotions.

Growing up, I wasn't allowed the luxury of showing emotions. Things like anger and sadness were a weakness to my father. Which was ironic for a man that had no problem showing it. From the time I was a toddler until his passing in my middle teens, the man had done everything he could to make his emotions known. Screaming and throwing things was a common scene in our house. If I wasn't the best at something or my grades weren't perfect, I had to hear about how I was ruining my plans for life and my future. An idyllic scene of a young doctor or business woman, the youngest ever to graduate in her family to work at the best hospital in the nation or lead some kind of trading firm to treat their family to whatever they need or wanted. He was grooming me to be his personal bank account my entire life. It was torture in more ways than one, but the worst way was emotionally. He would use it against me whenever the chance arose. Tears turned into screaming in my face as I was forced to hold in the whimpers of sadness that eventually would dissipate as the years went on. No matter what he did as his time wound down, I learned to take it and brush it off. No matter how many glasses , remotes, or even the occasional keyboard, no sounds and no weird faces could be made for fear of making it worse.

You'd think that him getting what he wanted would make it better, that he would calm down. Yet, his anger only grew as my reactions stopped, going against the old adage that if you don't react, they will stop. The only time it stopped was when he finally passed on Christmas day in 2010. While the man never did what he did in an alcoholic rage, he did enjoy the occasional drink. Sometimes more than a drink and often times when he shouldn't, like if he had to drive home. It was finally his undoing that day as he drove straight into a barrier on the 101 freeway when they started some new construction that he wasn't familiar with.

I didn't cry that day or even at his funeral. In fact, I didn't cry for the man until the court mandated therapy sessions finally broke me from the emotionless gaze that I had been holding just two weeks before my 17th birthday. Almost two years it took to undo the lifetime of trauma that man had put me through. Two years of foster homes and nothing but focusing on school and work like he had always taught me. I cried that fateful day in July not because I was sad that he was gone, but because I realized how much I missed out on because of him. The feelings of being forced to do things that I didn't want to do under the guise of love and furthering myself finally cracked the dam while Dr.Petersen sat across from me in her office. She called in the big breakthrough because I had never shown a single emotion in her office until my breakdown that day.