When I was a little kid I was what you would call a huge crybaby. I would cry at the smallest of things. The only thing I wouldn’t cry about was when I got hurt. I was upstairs snooping around in my dad’s stuff. I was at the top of the creaky stairs. I just stared down the bottom; a part of me was almost scared. The old carpet, the peeling wallpaper, and the stairs lined with books. These were in my nightmares. I took the first step down and the step lost a piece of wood and fell down. I was out cold for a good 5 minutes. As anyone would imagine, a kid would be hysterical and their parents would rush them to the hospital thinking they broke something. My parents did the opposite. I woke up feeling hurt but I would not let myself cry. If I cried I would have been called dramatic by my mother. She’s broken all kinds of bones and she never cried. Her outlook on pain was based on not wanting to spend money and It was internalized in me.

Back in 2016-2017, everything changed. I was in between 3rd and 4th grade when one day, on a Saturday, my dad sat me down. My mother had just been in a car accident. She was driving home from work on the highway when she suddenly couldn’t see; she has a history of night blindness. Her car rode right into a ditch and flipped. At the time all we knew was that she shattered her leg and had multiple fractures in her hands and ribs. I felt scared, alone, and most of all confused; my mother was a strong woman. For the first time in my whole short life; my mom cried. Everything began to blur. School had just ended and it had been weeks since I saw my mom at home.

The room was bare with white walls and the only sound was the air conditioner. I hated my mom’s room and I hated the hospital. My mom never wanted me to see her as someone who couldn’t handle herself; she never wanted me to view her as weak. My father was amazing when my brother and I were older but when we were kids he was subpar. My dad's meal was boiled hotdogs and mac’n’cheese. He would forget to bring me to school and at times would forget I was there. He slept the whole day, leaving me alone. My father decided to send me to my grandparent's house until my mom came back. I felt hurt. I was just a kid and I felt like I had lost two major role models. As far as I knew my mom could have been dead and my dad would never ever take me home. I would never see my brother again. The one thing I would never let myself do was cry. I stayed with my grandparents for almost 3 weeks. My father took me home a week before my mom was discharged; years later I learned that my mom never knew I spent the whole time at my grandparents.

It felt like years upon years since I saw my mom. I remember the day she came home vividly because it gave me so much anxiety and stress. I was left home with my brother. We were inside when then we heard yelling; our mother was home. She was in a walker and having a lot of trouble making it inside the house. Whenever we would try to help she would scream at us. I cried a lot that day. I knew she was angry. She was upset over how vulnerable she was. She was in pain more than anyone could realize. The problem was that my mom never stopped being in pain. She would describe it as waking up every day and feeling her leg break all over again.

We all knew something was wrong. My mom was bipolar but there was something more. She was in actual physical pain. My mom went to the doctor. I came with her and hated it. I never liked doctor’s offices; they reminded me of getting shots. When my mom heard the news she started to cry but I didn’t understand why. She was diagnosed with CRPS also known as Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome. Every single day the nerves in her body would send signals to the brain that a part of her body was broken; she would feel excruciating pain over and over again her entire life. There is no cure for CRPS. There are things to make the pain more tolerable. Most people with CRPS commit suicide because they can’t handle the pain. To add to my mom’s other mental issues; I had lost her more than if she had actually died in the car crash.

Seeing my mom in pain made me feel like I was in pain. She would cry more and more. It confused me; all I knew was that I shouldn’t make a big deal about my pain. My brother and I felt like we lost a parent. My dad had to figure out how to do things my mom would do because she couldn’t stand up for long periods of time. This whole year-long situation changed me completely for better and some worse. It affected us all for years to come. At the time the hardest thing for me was the fact she couldn’t be involved in the stuff I did; whether it was concerts or birthdays. I knew she couldn’t handle it but in the end; I missed her.

After years my mother knew how to deal with her pain. She does ketamine treatments at a hospital every few months and she has a stimulator. The stimulator sends electric currents to her spine and reduces the pain. I finally had my mom back. My mom still is in pain everyday but it's gotten much better. This whole experience showed me what pain really was. I felt more comfortable showing what I was feeling rather than feeling almost ashamed. People are allowed to cry. There is no reason why to not show up when you are hurt. Instead of hiding everything away and even feeling scared to express what’s going on; it should be normal. I may have never broken my leg or grown a backbone when it comes to crying but I am not afraid to start sobbing. Pain, no matter if it’s physical or mental, hurts and we have a right to feel sad about it.