Running With Hangers; A Story Of Determination
There’s a nostalgic story my parents tell from when we lived in Ozona, a small town in the middle of nowhere, Texas. Hunting and oil fueled the community and economy, and though my family only knew poverty and faith, that was enough to fuel our days with purpose and our nights with dreams. One night, after putting us to sleep, mom was up late doing laundry. The hum of the washing machine was her only companion, the scent of clean clothes filling the air. Suddenly, she heard a small thump—a vibration alerting her to someone on the roof. An intruder. Standing in the washroom, she heard footsteps above and realized someone was trying to break into the home. Thinking of her sleeping husband and her three young boys, she grabbed the nearest thing—a hanger—and ran outside into the dark.
For a long time, I saw this story as a testament to a young mother’s instinct to protect her family. It tugged at my heartstrings, setting off into the night as she chased the intruder with just a hanger, highlighting her courage despite lack of adequacy and insufficiency. As I’ve gained the perspective of life, I now see more. Not just her boldness, but the sheer determination that drove her to chase an intruder so unmatched.
At the age of 32, I was diagnosed with multiple identities. “I,” a word and singular letter that now feels so unauthentic and naïve. It was a shocking revelation—to learn that my mind was not ‘normal’ and that the voices in my head belonged to different people, whole people with wants and likes and goals of their own, trapped within me. There are days when the weight of managing fifteen identities seems overwhelming. My mind taunts me, blurring reality and illusion, as it makes me believe that none of this is true. Like on mornings when I wake up to find my partner already off to work, moments where my mind tells me he never existed.
We’ve been living with a secret the past couple of months. The depression and suicidal ideations are back. Only our partner, our psychiatrist and closest friend know. That is until now. Back in May, our days turned into nights. We found ourselves trying to escape deep into the mind in order to find the only comfort we’ve ever know: the identities. It’s as if the body went into a self-induced co-pilot mode. One night, as we all slept, the memory of my mom with her hanger came to mind. For some reason, it unsettled me. A persistent pebble in my shoe. I recall waking up that night, in tears, not knowing why. Then it came to me.
A hanger. A lone hanger. The picture of my mom running into the night, fearless.
Like my mother, and you as well, we the identities have faced daunting challenges— physical illness, escaping poverty, surviving trauma,
The days that followed came with the certainty that the name Abraham (an alter also in this body) did not reflect what all was on the inside. Abraham was not enough anymore. We have been so many people over the years and none of them have been able to encompass the beauty and splendor of who we are. We spoke to our life partner Brayan, Abraham’s mom and his closest friends and shared that Aber felt fitting. Aber, the name his parents, siblings and most importantly, niece and nephew, call us. The name we now use to refer to the amalgamation of identities you see as one body.
In our dreams, we started writing what is now Something Happens In The Water. It came like a wave one day and flooded our entire being. We let it. Now, we share it with you.
As we write our first novel, we don’t know how the fuck we are going to publish or even finance this but what we know is that our souls cry out for us to finish it. Truth be told, as we said, our first love as a child was writing. It was the only way we knew how to share our voice, if even a whisper. Then life happened and the voices in my head became an untamed chorus. Now, we are picking up our hanger and chasing after the unknown. It’s not just the book we are chasing. We’re also choosing, as a clinical system of identities, to chase after our own induvial fulfillments. Is it daunting? Hell yes. Does it sound like a mental unrest? Yes, we see that too. The pressure of finding a way to live this singular life for fifteen people sounds wild, and trust us, it scares us to. But we must pursue the life we envision for ourselves. When inadequacy tries to tell us we can’t, we remember that mother’s audacity and choose to chase after the impossible. It’s the way we have now chosen to live this life— our life-- going after the things that scare us and doing the things people don’t believe we can,
So why Aber Prieto dot com? Why now? Not only do we aim to share this story given to us by life, but we also hope to raise awareness on individuals living with multiple identities, mental health and suicide prevention. When the sun sets on this human life, we’d like people to remember someone who didn’t take life lying down. A person who saw a life worth living and chose to run after it, with whatever it took—even if it meant running with just hangers.
pictured: Abrahams brother (left) Aber (center), mom. circa 1994
*If you are thinking about suicide, dial 9-8-8. Help is available. The world needs you.*