Raising My Voice – Chapter 1

I don’t quite remember when it happened...

When I no longer wanted to open my mouth to speak to anyone—not even my parents.

It was a terrifying and lonely time. At the very least, I still had four walls to keep me company.

My math teacher called me a “slow-witted, ignorant child.” I thought she was right. I didn’t argue or try to prove her wrong because I had always felt sluggish, lacking intelligence compared to the other kids.

The only time I ever initiated a conversation with my mother was when I was ten years old. I asked her, “Do you remember what it was like when you were pregnant with me?” I don’t know why I asked that. I can’t remember anymore. But I do know that she replied, “I wasn’t happy back then.”

On my eleventh birthday, my parents took me to the hospital for a health check-up. The doctor said that my brain’s biochemical factors were imbalanced—possibly because my mother had suffered from prenatal anxiety while she was pregnant with me. At that time, she had to take unpaid maternity leave, and my father had to work overtime to cover the costs of childbirth. Alone within four suffocating walls, overwhelmed by the loneliness and the anxiety of being away from work, she returned to her job as soon as I was born. So did my father.

No one was there for me—except for a kind neighbor who agreed to watch over me every night.