𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝟔

There's this dream I always have of my first anxiety attack. It sounds like it's going to be more of a nightmare seeing as anxiety and attack are in the same sentence, but it isn't at all.

In the dream, or rather memory, Mom and I are in the car, going to Toys R Us. I'm in the backseat, sitting in my booster seat, struggling to get rid of the small, barely visible stain on one of the flats I had in my possession.

I remember hating that it wouldn't smudge into nothingness, tears brimming my eyes while I tried to get air into my lungs. It felt like a normal tantrum of mine, but it hadn't been at all. Unlike all of my previous meltdowns, it was like the air was never going to come back.

Once Mom noticed I was turning a concerning shade of blue, she pulled over. I don't remember passing out, but I did. Next time I open my eyes, I'm in an ambulance, wide-eyed and confused as I look up at Mom who is sobbing above me, praying to God that I'll be okay.

After that, it's kind of a blur. But from those blurred memories, I remember getting to the hospital and blah blah blah. The best part of the dream and what makes it the least nightmarish thing REM has to offer-Mom sings me to sleep.

And it's this song about me. She narrates our adventure of that day into lyrics that sound so cheesy and dumb now but sounded like heaven back then.

"Morning blues as my girl ties her shoes, laces that don't bend to her will. The way they 'should'."

"Don't be blue, my darling, you."

"My girl is blue... What the hell is there to do? Breathe, baby, breathe."

"You're skin is turning blue, the sirens red and used. What will I do if you are lost... Baby blue."

That's all I remember of it. I know it's missing parts that I can't quite put together, but it's enough for me.

I remember the way the words blurred together, some hidden away behind her tears. She would hiccup through her sobs, squeezing my hand between both of hers, her lips pressed to her knuckles as she sang to me. I giggled at the bad words, repeating a few myself just to see her laugh.

Even then I believed comfort to be a two-way street.

I'm trying not to blame Dad. I love him, and I don't want to believe that he would do something like this to us intentionally. But he's well aware of how I felt about him and Mason actually spending time together, and actively interacting under the same roof.

Mom wouldn't want me mad. That's the only thing that has kept me from calling him back simply to curse him.

When he'd promised that he'd try for both of us, I couldn't have been happier. He even called me on the way to Tamsyn. I thought that was a sign that change had been made, but he just loves proving my past self right.