... but I think it would help me to relate it now.
A day before a big convention in Montreal [I must've been 8 years old] My mother, who was running late as usual, was trying to get ready for an appointment. She was frantic and needed the bathroom mirror. I'm sitting on the commode and I remember finding a thrown out metal flimsy paper towel rack in the garbage so, I pick it up and I'm trying to bend it around, my mother storms into the bathroom, grabs the towel rack and screams, 'You know I'm in a hurry' and bashes my head in on top! I felt a different pain that day. I reached up to feel my head and I see blood on my hands. That's when I start screaming. My brother (who was 12) runs into the bathroom and takes care of my bleeding head. My mother knew what she had done and left the house quickly.
My brother stops the bleeding, shaves my head around the wound, and puts a bandaid on the wound. The next thing I remember is that it's about 4am , I'm sitting in the back of the car. We are driving -not to a hospitol but to Montreal for the convention. I overhear my mother and my brother talking about my injury and I hear "he could die"! I immediately speak up asking them what's going on. They nervously say "Nothing's going on. We'll be at the assembly in a couple of hours".
This was a hard memory for me...I wonder where my anger stems from. I guess this is a start.
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