I wasn’t always like this.

I didn’t imagine being so attached to my family.

When I was 17, what I wanted the most was to get out of the house. It was to get a taste of my independence.

Then 2010 happened. I was 18.

We lost the house. My dad got a job in California, and I got stuck in a spot where I needed to attend college or drop everything and leave with them. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I stayed.

The only family I would have near me would be my doggo, Henry. He was probably the only one that heard all of my agony and pain. He knew how I felt, how much I regretted ever wishing to leave my family on their own.

My biggest regret was that I wasn’t as involved with my parents and didn’t offer to help as much as I could. I was selfish. I wanted to only worry about myself. With zero consideration for everything they once sacrificed for me.

I wanted a taste of independence, and I guess God heard me and gave me a little taste of what I wanted.

Before my parents lost their house, they got tricked into hiring a lawyer that specialized in the home loan modifications. There were so many signs that this man was a fraud, but ask me how many times I went to visit this so-called lawyer with them? Zero times. I could have probably figured out that modifying the house just wasn’t going to be possible, and we would have to wait for me to start picking up some slack, but patience would’ve been the key. I never offered to help. I was only worried about spending money on looking right and eating right.

So yea, I guess when I look back, I’ve been trying to pay back some sort of imaginary debt I’ve had in my mind. I’m not sure if my parents think of that too. I’ve never brought it up for fear of confirming that they know I could have done more to help. While I don’t think they’ve ever held a grudge, I feel some sort of way about myself when I remember the old house.

Sometimes, when I get confused, I still pass by that old house. It either does one thing or another to me. Either it motivates me to do the next thought in my head, or it helps me let out the emotions I’ve been hanging onto. There isn’t a time in which I don’t get chills by driving by that house. I may act fine on the outside, but on the inside, I have a million thoughts coming through like tiny needles pricking at my brain.

The year 2020 marks the 10th anniversary of that sad day in which I was woken up by a constable to pack up my things and leave the property. This particular week marks the tenth anniversary. I can’t remember it very well. It’s like my brain tries to block out those memories, and if I think hard about it, I can only remember how fraud I must have looked trying to make a positive out of every little thing I could find. I think I’ve been trying to find the positives ever since.

Maybe one day I’ll remember everything and deal with it properly. I get flashbacks to that day now and then. I’ve tried filling the void with the accomplishments I’ve made. Ever since I started making a little money, my effort has been to take a trip the week of the 4th of July, just to wake up one morning and say, “isn’t it crazy how far we’ve come from that day?” I know I should start letting go of that moment, but I feel I owe that moment everything. I remember now and then what it felt like to be on the brink of losing it all and not being able to do anything about it. I don’t ever want to reach that point again, and whenever I feel like I have a decision to make, I will take a little drive out there just to see if I can remember anything.

Ten years later, I’ve sponsored my father’s residency. I’ve helped him get into the house with my mom to do it all over again, but better. I’ve done what I can to be a better brother than I ever was to my little sister and little brother. While losing that house was the worst experience of my life. I owe all of my success to that moment. I never want to feel it again.