Burden.

When I was maybe a junior in high school, maybe 16 or 17, I had lost the band polo shirt that was part of our casual uniform in our school. It was $25 to replace, and the school itself was expensive, so I knew I had to find it or else I'd be in trouble. Plus, I needed it anyway, it was part of my uniform and the band director was going to chew me out if I wasn't wearing it. I remember being on the floor, looking under the china cabinet in the kitchen to see if somehow maybe I had dropped it and kicked it under there at some point, because I genuinely had no idea where else it could be. I remember the dust and dirt that was under there being kicked up and getting all over me while I was desperately trying to find this shirt. 
My mother came into the kitchen to tell me we needed to leave or else I was going to be late for school, and I told her what was going on. 
And I remember her standing over me, looking resentful and infuriated.
And she said to me, 
"We should make you drop out of school and get a job so you can pay us back for all the money we've been wasting on you." 
She walked out of the kitchen and I cried. After a few minutes I stood up, dusted myself off, and we didn't speak a word to each other as she drove me to school.
We haven't spoken about that exchange since. She has brought up the idea of me draining resources from the family many, many times, but we have not spoken about that comment. 
And the worst part about it is, even if I did bring it up, I know she wouldn't remember. And not in that gaslighting way that people would think, but because she genuinely wouldn't remember. She forgets a lot of things. Names, birthdays, appointments, grocery items, you name it. If it's not written down somewhere, she forgets it. 
But I can't let it go. I've brought it up in therapy, and I know that's one of the events that heavily impacted my life and how I see myself. And while I tell myself that it was not my fault and that I did not deserve that treatment, I still cannot shake the feelings of that day.