Chapter 1
Was it the day I started becoming the person everyone expected me to be? Or was it much earlier, when I learned that keeping people happy was easier than being honest about how I felt?
My name is Ambrosia Nicole Daniel born into the family of three and the only girl child .I wouldn’t say I knew much about what was happening around me when I was little. I was too young to understand the things adults knew but didn’t tell me. All I knew, and all I was told, was that I had been sick from birth.But despite everything, life continued.bythe time I was two years old, I had started experiencing life in my own little way. I grew, I played, I learned, and eventually, I went to school. I was just a little girl, unaware of the things that had happened before I was old enough to understand them.There were many things about my childhood that I didn’t know then. There were stories I would only understand much later, and truths that had been kept away from me.
I went to school, met people, learned new things, and slowly began growing into the person I would eventually become.As I grew older, I went to different schools with my two brothers, Mitchell and Kelvin. We moved from one school to another, and they would often come and pick me up. At that age, I didn’t think much about the changes around me. To me, it was simply part of growing up.
My mum was a baker, while my Dad was an engineer. We were a family that had what we needed. We had enough to eat, and our parents did their best to make sure we were cared for. We had our little world, and in many ways, it felt like we had everything we needed within our family.
As time went on, my mum began investing in different businesses. She became the breadwinner of the family, carrying many of the responsibilities that came with keeping the household running.
My Dad, on the other hand, struggled with his business. Things were not always easy for him, but he never stopped trying. Despite his struggles, he made sure we were fed, provided for us, and did what he could to take care of the family.Looking back, I realize that I was too young to understand the weight of what both my parents were carrying.
Grace our nanny,she was someone who became part of my childhood. I wouldn’t describe her simply as nice, because our relationship wasn’t always easy. There were times when she would hit me, and there were things I experienced with her that I didn’t fully understand at the time.As I grew older, I met Grace. She was someone who became part of my childhood. I wouldn’t describe her simply as nice, because our relationship wasn’t always easy. There were times when she would hit me, and there were things I experienced with her that I didn’t fully understand at the time.My mom was particular about my education, especially mathematics and science courses.She wanted me to improve, so she brought a tutor to teach me. I imagined myself following a path that had something to do with science. But as I grew older, I discovered something else about myself.
I loved Arts, novels.
I loved stories.
Even when I was younger, I had started writing my own little stories. I didn’t know what those scribbles would become or whether anyone would ever read them. I simply enjoyed creating worlds with words. Writing became something that came naturally to me. I find my own part of my version that keeps me pushing and looking forward to when i will grow up.
My Dad lost his job. he had to stay at home with us. During that period, my mom carried most of the responsibility of feeding and taking care of us. She kept on going, doing what she had to do to make sure we were okay.
Eventually, my Dad found another job, and life began moving forward again. Before the lost of my grandpa.My Dad worked for someone else, but I didn’t want people to know that. Instead, I would tell people that my father owned a company. I would say he had done this and that, creating a version of his life that sounded bigger than reality.
Why did I lie?
Because I didn’t want to be looked down on.I had grown up having the things I needed. I knew what it felt like to have food, clothing, care, and comfort. I had never thought of myself as someone who lacked anything.I was afraid of being reduced to someone’s idea of a poor child. I was afraid of being treated as though I came from nowhere.I didn’t want to be the girl people looked at with pity.So I created a story.
A better story.A story where my Dad owned a company. A story where everything was bigger and better than it really was. At the time, I thought I was protecting myself.
I didn’t realize that every lie I told to protect the image I had created was slowly creating another version of me and perhaps ,that was one of the first places where I began losing myself but perhaps losing myself did not happen all at once. Maybe it happened in small pieces, in moments that seemed too ordinary to matter.The funny thing about losing yourself is that you don’t always notice when it is happening.Everything looks normal from the outside but somewhere inside, something is changing.
