I was forced to grow up fast and strong.

It wasn't a choice nor was it a conscious decision. It simply was. I tried to deny it at first, tried to tell myself that I didn't have to do that, that my situation would change. When my situation did change, for the worse instead of the better, I realized I had to change. So, at the age of 12, I changed.

I did whatever I could. Whether that was cleaning the house, replacing burnt-out lights, taking out the trash, helping my little sisters with their homework, holding the puke bucket for my sick family member or simply being there to talk to, I did whatever I could. I learned how to keep my emotions under lock and key, guarded by Cerberus, because they only got in the way of accomplishing what had to be done.

Essentially, I became a zombie.

I did what was expected of me without question. I read body language, read between the lines, and determined the best course of action. I fought the hormones raging a war inside my body with cold, hard intellect. The facts could not be denied and, as long as I kept that in mind, I would be fine.

It took me a grand total of four years to realize that wasn’t the only way. I realized that I would be able to accomplish everything easier if I allowed myself to feel, to ask questions, to ask for help. Sadly, by then, the scars around my heart were so thick I couldn’t simply reach in and change myself.

When faced with a decision, the old Me and the Me I wanted to be would fight it out, trying to subdue the other. I hated myself. I wanted so badly to scream ‘Help me!’ to the Heavens, but the only thing that would come out of my lips would be ‘I’m fine’ coupled with a sweet smile. No one was ever the wiser.

People would tell me that I was such a good daughter, taking care of the household. I wanted to tell them I didn’t want to be this anymore, but I could never work up the courage. They never saw me go home, finish my duties, go into my room and weep against the closed door. They were never the wiser.