"If I were to write a biography, it would start like this: I was born in Brussels, Belgium, on May 4, 1929 . . . and I died six weeks later." - Audrey Hepburn
Like Audrey Hepburn, I died when I was a baby. She was revived by her mother when her heart stopped as a newborn. I was revived by my father. When I was at my low points in January I had wished and said terrible things like I wish I had died that day. I have rarely talked about that accident because I was ridiculed for sharing my story when I was a teen.
For several years, my birthname (_ _ _ _ _ _ _) was dead to me. I disliked my name for many reasons and wished I could be CeCe (my nickname) or something more unique (like Mallory). My name was so common that I shared it with my stepsister. I felt it was her name and I had to settle for shitty nicknames like chital. I felt second in every situation, in every household, in every relationship... I wasn't even the main character in my own life. I watched me waste away during and the aftermath of my toxic relationship with someone who was deliberately abusing me for his amusement. Cody helped snuffed out that girl's flame, she no longer had a drive to succeed. I lost a lot of things the summer of 1998 and I regret the things I did to protect myself and what I did to ruin relationships because I never once thought he was capable of being cruel. The night I realized what he had done to me was the night I died from my first heartbreak then looked at my future boyfriend and saw the same shady smirk Cody used to give me... the same smirk that I mistakenly thought was a lovely gaze. In 2021 when the flashbacks started to trouble me I knew it was time to legally change my name. I could, I can still hear Cody say that name, he always said it in a singsong way that melted my heart.
When I was a teenager, the worse feeling was when the boys went from saying CeCe to (_ _ _ _ _ _ _) that was usually my clue that version I loved of them was gone.
In my last two years of high school, I wore a blue & white soccer coat with the name Shawn embroidered on the left sleeve and 9 on the right sleeve. Shawn was my nickname at West Ferris Secondary School ('97 - '98) for those who struggled with pronouncing my birthname, they just used the name on my coat. I chose these three names, Shawn, Hazel & Elliott, with such care and so much meaning. Shawn was incredibly brave for taking the leap to move to a new community and begin the healing process.
I feel that Shawn died in the new year. She was overwhelmed with the memories of sexual assaults and inappropriate behaviors. She was labeling and attaching the proper words to the abuse and gross behavior she experienced as a preteen then as a teen. Shawn was suicidal and had fallen into a very dark depression. She had psychotic episodes and came undone around the time she saw a photo of one of the parking garage abusers. Shawn could hear one of the parking garage abusers use her new name. It shattered Shawn. The end of Shawn of was when she held a knife to herself that time, instead of cutting her skin, she grabbed her hair and cut a chunk out. She cried in fetal position in the kitchen until she passed out. Shawn stopped taking calls and messages; Kirk became increasingly more worried with every hour that she would not respond. He showed up, to check up on me and ask me out on coffee date. I am aware of where I cut my hair out, my partner says it's not noticeable but I see that missing chunk of hair every time I look in the mirror. I cry about what happened that day.
THE SEVEN M'S OF MALLORY
"I have Fibromyalgia - thank you for being considerate," diagnosed with Fibromyalgia in 2018, I am still struggling to understand my illness and learn to cope with my pain.
In spring 2022, I was diagnosed with chronic depression, c-PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder. Everyday was yesterday in my mind & in the flashbacks I was routinely suffering through. Three months after my second suicide attempt, I moved to a new community to begin my healing journey.
is an homage to my favorite childhood book series, Martine. I love the symbolism of the hot air balloon that I, Mallory, am navigating life with chronic illness while on a healing journey.