I is for Identity Crisis

Baxter is the one who kind of put my memoir in motion. More-so, he was the one who told me something was wrong.

Let me back this up a bit. I'm sure you've gathered that he sleeps on my bed every night. And if any of you are familiar with dogs, or wolves, you know that they know female's cycles. It turns out, Baxter was no different.

My period had been late. And I mean, really, really late. I was laying on my back, when Baxter rested his head against my stomach. My heart dropped. He'd never done that before. Suddenly, I stopped waiting. I stopped thinking I was late. He was telling me was I was terrified to know.

In less than a week, I sought an abortion. I laid on the couch crying for weeks until we became homeless, until I got fired from my job, until my entire world fell apart. But he still needed to eat. He still needed to go outside. He forced me into motion when I wanted to give up.

We moved to Maine shortly after.

When we arrived, I was still fresh off a knee surgery, the abortion, uprooting our

One of the first pictures I took
of Baxter in Maine

entire lives. I couldn't breathe. I could barely stand. I felt disgusted with myself, and though through years of depression I'd said I hated myself, I truly, truly, did. Each day that passed, it took every fiber of my being not to hurt myself.

At nights, Baxter would still lay on my bed, but since the days of my pregnancy, he hasn't laid with his head on my stomach.

So, maybe I didn't want to be this person anymore. Maybe I was sick of being miserable, of putting myself in stupid situations, of trusting guys who would leave me when I was pregnant and not call to see if I was okay. Maybe...it was time for me to grow up.

When I'd arrived at the clinic, I wrote my name on a small piece of paper. That was the name they'd called me back by. Every time someone called me by that name, I heard the nurse. How could I escape from that?

And so I did what any insane girl would do. I started giving everyone another name, my middle name. People bought it, no questions asked.

I began to rebuild myself, from the inside out. Each day, I would say, "You're okay, you're okay, you can do this." I tried to be positive. And this month marks the one-year anniversary of my last round of cutting.

Baxter saved my life. He forced me into motion when I wanted to stand still and play dead. No matter what I tell people my name is, he's been there through all of it. He knows me, he accepts me, and he loves me. I've had an identity crisis. Some days, I'm still wondering who I am. But now, thankfully, most days, I feel like I'm on the right path.