Children of the mentally ill learn early on how not to be a bother, especially if they grew up with neglect. As my sister insisted once, when she was in severe pain after injuring her ankle, 'This isn't me! This is not who I am!

My dog, Ginger, is jumpy-like me-sensitive to sound and sudden movement. She wasn't that way at first, but not long after we got her, my grandfather told me to stand still outside and hold her leash tight. Then he shot a gun off by our feet, several times. This is how girls learn to obey, he said, how to be seen and not heard.

I felt held hostage by her illness and by the backward mental health system that once again was incapable of helping our family in crisis.

Who am I, then, if my memory is impaired?