That Time I…

To my younger self,

            I bet you’re probably wondering how we recovered from that “incident” that changed your life that one night in August.  I bet you’re probably wondering if we ever got past the extreme embarrassment that encompassed our life for all of those years.  I bet you’re even wondering if we still have that bed that caused all of the embarrassment.  Well, let’s find out. 

            For those of you who don’t quite know this story, let me provide some insight.  I was five years old at the time of this “event”.  My older sister Lexie and I shared a room, and there was nothing I loved more than being able to sleep in the same room as my older sister.  I always loved how she made me feel safe.  If I ever thought there were monsters under the bed, I knew she would stop them before they could get to me.  Our room was picture perfect.  The walls were painted a light gray.  If you looked straight ahead when you walked into our room, there was a book nook with a window where we could see our backyard.  This is where Lexie and I spent almost all of our time.  There was a dresser with all of our baby photos on it, as well as all of our trophies and medals from all of the sports we played.  One of my favorite parts of our room was our pink princess TV.  Although it would only play movies on DVD’s, it held a special place in my heart because this is where my sister and I happened to grow the closest, mostly watching Barbie movies and learning the words to all of the songs.  The most amazing part of our room was our bed.  It was a twin bed that just so happened to have a pull-out trundle at the bottom.  Lexie would sleep at the top, I would sleep on the trundle.  It was the perfect sleeping arrangement.  My older sister was at the top, like she was my protector.  I always felt like her child who slept just a few feet under where her bed was.  She could easily just look down to her left and check on me to make sure I was okay.  To my surprise, I enjoyed sleeping on this uncomfortable trundle, mostly because I had my big sister to be right there with me, always looking down on me.

            One night, I went to bed like normal.  I did the usual nightly routine, took a bath, put on my princess nightgown that was made of silk, brushed those tiny baby teeth, and headed straight to bed.  My parents didn’t allow us to watch TV before bed, so my parents would come in and make us say our prayers, tuck us in, and give us a kiss on the forehead before they left us to sleep tightly.  What I didn’t know was that in the morning, I might not be able to get ready for school like usual.  I slept like a baby that night.  I didn’t wake up one time during the night and I just remember being excited for school the next morning.  When it was finally time to wake up, about 7AM, I realized that my usual view of the ceiling was not what was in view.  It was dark.  It was messy.  It was not what I was used to.  Of course, I had just woken up, so my immediate thought was that I was still dreaming and that I just needed to hit myself.  So, I hit myself in the face to see if that would make a difference.  Nothing.  I was still seeing darkness.  After I gave myself a minute to comprehend, I realized exactly where I was.  I felt a sharp pain at the back of my neck, like something had been weighing on it.  As I took a minute to take in my surroundings, I realized that I couldn’t turn my head whatsoever.  I.  Was.  Stuck.

            When I took a minute to calm myself down as much as I possibly could, I called for my older sister, the one who I need to protect me. 

            “LEXIE!!!!  I’M STUCK!!!!”  That’s all I remember saying.

She looked down from the side of her twin bed to see what was going on.  All she could see was me tugging, fighting against this bed to be set free.

My head was indeed stuck in between my sister’s bed and where the trundle was.  You see, when you pull out the trundle, there’s a little gap from where it had been pulled out.  So, when I turn to the right when I’m sleeping, my head basically falls under this gap.  However, something must have gone terribly wrong, and here I was, helpless, fighting to get my head out.

            My sister jumped out of her bed, and ran to my parents room.  My parents room was super close to our room, but in that moment, it felt like their room was lightyears away.  While she went to grab them, I decided to stop putting so much strain on my neck from tugging so hard to free myself.  So, I took a minute to look around and try to breathe.  The darkness no longer lingered under the bed.  Although it was still dark, Lexie had turned on the overhead light to our room, so I could actually see what was sitting right in front of me.  Under our bed sat so many dirty clothes, toys, one of my old toothbrushes, some kleenex, the list goes on.  It was truly a horrid sight to see down there.  I wanted out, and I wanted out now.

            While looking at the disgusting nature of the ground beneath our bed, I heard my parents footsteps approaching.  These weren’t slow and controlled footsteps.  No, these were fast and violent, each step pounded into the hardwood floor like this was an emergency.  But, to me, it was.  My parents finally walk in and see me trying to somehow slide my head out.  But, each time I even tried to move my head, the bed would scrape the back of my neck, causing the most intense pain a five year old has ever had to experience.  I couldn’t see my parents or my sister behind me trying to pull me out.  I started uncontrollably sobbing, because to me, this was how I was going to die. My parents and older sister climbed on top of the trundle bed, each one of them grabbing a different limb to try and pull me out.  My dad tried to lift the bed, so that my head would just slip out, but when you lifted the bed, the trundle just tried to go right up with it.  This meant I was going to have to pull my head out.  When my dad gave up on trying to lift the bed, he grabbed my head and started to slowly pull.  I yelped in pain.  I felt like I was going to lose my head.  My head was going to be gone forever. I was going to be decapitated.  After at least five minutes of pulling, I felt my head budge a little bit, feeling a little bit more free than I had.  I was determined to get my head out.

            “On the count of three, I want you to pull as hard as you can, NAME.  You hear me?” my mom asked.

            “Okay mom, I am going to try.”  I told her back.  I was more than ready to get out of here and just have a normal day.

When my mom got to three, I yanked as hard as I could, pushing my hands against the wood I was stuck under.  I finally saw light.  I could see my pink princess tv and my book nook in the corner.  I was free!  After that, we put the bed up for sale and my parents got me my own room and my own bed.

Younger self, after that, we were embarrassed.  My sister had basically told everyone in her class at school, and everyone was asking me how on earth that happened.  You know, I wish I had an answer.  It will forever be a mystery about how my small head got stuck under there.  The embarrassment has gotten better over the years, but now you’re telling your whole class about it, so that might come back to haunt you.  But hey, getting your head stuck under there is like a personality trait at this point.  It makes you who you are.

                                                                                    Let’s not let that happen again NAME,

                                                                                                Xoxo, Your 20 year old self

Abby Thompson My name is Abby thompson and I am a sophomore majoring in middle school education with an emphasis in English and I am originally from Marion, Illinois. On campus I currently work as a student worker for the Collage of Educaton and Human Services, serving the Human Servies deprment and also serve as an officer in Tri Sigma sorority. In my free time, I enjoy hicking, reading, and spedning time with my family!

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