I woke up one morning in a hospital bed and I couldn't remember a thing. Acute amnesia, that's what they called it. Me, on the other hand, I called it a curse. My entire 30 years on this earth was just a blur that might "gradually come back"; that's what the doctors told me. I got discharged to a complete stranger, who claimed to be my husband of 7 years. He told me that there was an accident and that was the story I assumed stole my memory. Therefore, I spent the next several weeks with "friends" and "families" staring into my face asking me, "do you remember me, Karry?" and "Does this remind you of anything?". Honestly, I was sick of the stupid questions and constant attempts to stroke my memory because I just wanted it to happen naturally. While everyone was forcing me to remember, I was praying that it would just come back already; my loved ones were driving me crazy.

You'd think that not remembering my parents and siblings would be what bothered me most, but it was barely knowing my husband, Carl, that crushed me every day. Carl is a kind and caring man, so it broke his heart to look into my eyes lovingly, only for me to look back at him, lost. He was the only one who didn't force my memory. Carl simply showed me our wedding album to "confirm" his identity and our relationship. After that, he went on with our lives as if nothing happened and treated me like a queen. Carl never asked me the stupid questions or spent hours going over events, hoping for a flashback. I found it so sweet of him to understand my frustrations. It actually began to help me remember things like the day I lost my memory. One night, I was laying in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, when I had this sudden rush of events playing in my head. I was cleaning up the house and reached under the coffee table to dust it when I felt a presence come behind me that shocked me. It was only Carl, who walked up to me with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. All I remember after that was hugging Carl and the kids and the rest was a blank. That entire night, I was determined to remember the rest of that day so I asked Carl to buy me those flowers again. Of course, he complied and within an hour, I was smelling chrysanthemums, remembering everything. Smelling those flowers had to be the saddest moment of my life. I remembered everything and it destroyed me to learn the truth.

It was a normal Saturday: I'd woken up, had my coffee and read the paper, made Carl and my teenage kids breakfast, and started cleaning once they left for the day. My kids were splitting up, my daughter to dance class with her friends, and my son to soccer practice with his. Carl was off to the golf course to smoke cigars with his country club friends and drink scotch. This was the routine, which amazingly made remembering that day as easy as breathing. I started with all the bedrooms, dusting, vacuuming, and cleaning mirrors. I went down my list like I normally did, hitting the kitchen, dining room, and bathrooms after the bedrooms. I always left the living room for last because it was the biggest area and had the most work. After a break, I got to tackling the living room and noticed how much time went by, the kids and husband would be back soon. The living room got the most use in the house so I needed to finish quickly. The kids still came home before I finished and offered to help. They did a wonderful job and all that was left was the coffee table as well as waxing the hardwood floor. Carl agreed to wax right when I was under the coffee table, dusting and grumbling about having to sweep and wax. Carl scared me half to death because he kind of snuck up on me. He had the flowers and the kids were behind him holding a sandwich. My family was rewarding me for my hard work on the house and insisted I relax. I hugged them, sat down, ate and, went to sleep. While asleep, I felt heavy like I was being weighed down. It's clear to me now, that the feeling was the result of being drugged.

I spent the next few days after remembering that day, approaching anything that would give me the memory of my life back. Randomly, I found pieces of broken glass under the kitchen counter, solving the mystery of who and what made me lose my memory. The glass was the remaining evidence of a fight I had with my husband and the kids over disciplining them "too harshly." I remember throwing the glass as Carl walked through the kitchen calling me a horrible mother. The kids were on his side and it infuriated me. That was days before the incident and they planned a way to make me pay for my behavior. My husband and kids drugged me slowly in an effort to kill me. Carl stuck me in the neck with a sedative as I slept and the kids added something deadly to the food they gave me. Them telling me to relax was all a part of their plan to watch me die slowly from the poison. However, their plan failed and instead of dying, I only lost my memory.

In court, the kids revealed their father's plan to kill me before I started to remember. That explained why he never tried to help me remember. He wasn't looking into my eyes lovingly and sad–instead, he was disappointed in his failure to kill me. Him treating me like a queen was actually poisoning me with small doses. As a result, they were all found guilty. My husband got life without the possibility of parole for premeditated attempted murder. My children were both charged as adults for the same crimes and received 25 years in prison as a lesser sentence because I testified that they were coerced by their father.