Lilah's Story

Chapter 1

The one thing a girl wants to hear most in the world is “I love you, beautiful!” For all most all of my life I was scared I’d never hear those words. Having been born with a large purple birthmark, and a rare-disease on top of it, I never really believed the opposite sex, or society, could see me as beautiful. It’s not hard to convince yourself that you’ll end up alone and never loved (especially when you feel like The Elephant Man is your destiny). Don’t get me wrong, I’ve felt beautiful but I was afraid I’d die alone without being loved in return for who I am.

Now I know that’s not true. I am not and will never be alone. Yes, I have an adoring, loving husband and the life I’d been dreaming of in my most desperate hours. However, in order to find Parish I had to find myself and survive the ever heightening hurdles in my life. There were always set backs to loving myself. I still have days and moments of self-pity. I still worry that Parish will change his mind any day, but that’s why I, Lilah Marie Alexandar Parish, am writing this: to remember all the good things in life, to remember the love I found in myself, and the light I have within myself to make it through the dawn.

When I think back on all that I’ve been through, I know it was for a purpose. My worst years socially were in middle school. Sixth grade was the year my family moved from Noxon, Montana to Springdale, New York. It was not my finest moment. Leaving the comfort and safety of Noxon was a crushing blow. We had family. I had a community of teachers and students that respected me. They understood my condition; they pretty much left me alone. It’s the way Montana is.

Where I come from your word is your bond. You never pass down the road without smiling and chatting with a neighbor. The cart attendants help you bring your groceries to your car. Granted, that is semi-metro Montana. I was born in Noxon. All the same rules apply, but you have to drive miles to find a movie theatre or the grocery store. It’s about as far off the beaten path as you can imagine. But what Noxon lacked in population we made up for in uber charm and quaintness.
Moving to New York was like entering another world. The first two months of my new life in Springdale were spent in a hotel. The week before school started my mother Amy, a doctor, went for a meeting and talked to the school staff about my disease, Sturge-Weber Syndrome. Mom explained everything that went along with Sturge-Weber: the glaucoma causing my left eye to be almost completely blind and my right with no depth perception; the visible heart shaped birthmark that ends on my upper lip; the possibility that I might have a seizure and what to do in case. Luckily, I stopped having seizures when I was six, but they still left me with half a hemisphere of functioning brain. Even though I knew when I walked in that first day of middle school that I had the support of my mother and teachers I still felt like the odd kid out, more so because I was different.

It’s never easy being the new kid, but being shy and quiet on top of it didn’t really help. I honestly don’t remember what my teachers said that first day to the class about me; they came up to me and told me just to ask if I needed anything. Don’t get me wrong; life was a little easier having my mom come in and talk, but there definitely was a teacher or two that just didn’t like me because I wasn’t “normal”. They didn’t have to remind me. I’ve known that truth for a good thousand years.
That first day of sixth grade was foreign, like many things in my life the first year in Springdale. My new homeroom teacher, Mrs. Engle paired me up with one of the kids in my class that would “travel” with me as much as possible. Her name was Eileen, we weren’t the best of friends, but she took some of the pain of ostracism away. In Noxon, I was never the class outcast. Sure, I had always been made fun of by the bully, but I held my own and eventually went to the counselor’s office. I was always alone during recess because my vision made me less than stellar in sports, but I loved reading and swinging on the swings. I felt limitless and accepted on those swings.

I remember walking down the halls with my eyes parallel to the floor on my way to my first class of the day; science. If I looked up I’d see all the sneers and gestures of degradation what were on my classmates faces. I tried to block them out and nine times out of ten I did, but there was always that one.Trust me, I was aware that I was the odd girl, but blatantly being stared at was so not cool with me; it never has been. “I brought a bag for Frankenstein’s face but I think you need it more” said one boy.

Whenever I had a few moments of free time I’d retreat into a world full of fantasy and unconditional love by reading a romance novel. Sure, I had parents who showered me with praise and love, but it wasn’t the same. I, even at twelve, wanted to feel the loving enveloping arms of the most gorgeous man in the world. The man of my dreams at the time was Nick Lachey of 98 Degrees. I wanted to look into intoxicating blue eyes and know that all the hurt was a painful memory and not a constant reality. Of course it would always be a dream. Nick Lachey had no clue who I was and he wouldn’t ever either in the epic sense.

Right now I had to deal with the dangers of my life. That first day in Springdale I had to figure out a locker, change classes and change for gym class. All precarious situations. Eileen was right there with me stewarding me from class to class, yes, but once we were seated there was no more contact. Eileen must have been told that I was “special” because I had to go to a different math and reading class than her on my schedule. She had her friends and I had no one whenever we entered class. All my teachers knew that I was going to need a front row seat, which generally wasn’t a problem. I knew my home seat the minutes I walked into each class. I was in the exact middle of the front row horizontally and not a single person said “Hello”.

.My day, that sixth grade year was standard fair: Science, Social Studies, Reading, Lunch, Math, Gym, Art. Honestly, it wasn’t that horrible class wise. In time I got better in Math and Reading. I’ve actually always loved reading I just sometimes had a problem with completely comprehending. My mother blamed Noxon; I like to think it was my vision.

Making friends was another story. This story actually. No matter how hard I triend to be friendly rhat first year, I never made head way. No one talked to me except to make fun of me. I could always brush it off the first few times, but when everyone did it two or three times a day it was hard to ignore the remarks. And it wasn’t as if I didn’t have enough to deal with!