There are so many moments to choose from. So many that mean so many different things to me.
I will start in the sad, and move to the glad as my birthday approaches. It is not fair to twist my past with rose coloured glasses. Reality can bite sometimes.
My saddest memory is when I realised my father was less than human. That he was a monster, destined to haunt my nightmares for many years to come. There isn't any particular moment when that realisation occurred. Maybe it was when he abused me: maybe it was when he broken so many promises, begged for forgiveness so many times that I no longer believed him. Who knows, but that awareness came.
How do you cope with that huge breakdown of trust? You can't. It's impossible. You freeze, until your mind decides that it is finally capable of dealing with it. In the meantime, you have to live with the nightmares: and the moments that hurt.
It isn't a nice memory, nor a pretty one. But it is mine. And it brought me to where I am today. I wish it hadn't: because maybe I would be a little less broken, a little more trusting. But then, would I be a little less me?