As a child, I was a chatterbox.
As a child, I was incredibly social.
As a child, I loved to write.
As a child, I enjoyed painting.
As a child, I loved to read.
As a teen, I was belittled by my father.
As a teen, I was abused.
As a teen, I was emotionally abused by my father.
As a teen, I was mentally abused by my father.
As a teen, I was told to shut-up by my father.
As a teen, I was made fun of, by my father.
As a teen, I was my mothers support system.
As a teen, I was made out to be a black sheep.
As a child and teen, I was never told I love you by my family.
As a child and teen, I was never hugged by my family.
As a teen, I was not supported by my mother as I was abused.
As a teen, I hid in my bedroom.
As a teen, I was desperately alone.
As a teen, I found a boyfriend who loved me.
As a teen, I stood up for myself and shined a light on my abuses.
As a teen, I became the family’s scapegoat.
As a teen, I married and moved away.
As a 21 year old, I was widowed with a baby.
I will always be all of those past things, because they make up me.
I don’t want to be anyone, but me.
I will always shine light onto my abusive childhood. I will discuss my past as much as I want. My mother wants me to stop talking about how much she let me down. I can’t change her part, she wrote it. Her last words to me are not made up, she texted it and meant it. She is a letdown.
As an adult, I wrote a memoir about my abusive childhood, my life saving boyfriend and our amazing after death moment. My life is mine to write about.
As an adult, I’ve had two number one books.
As an adult, I wrote a children’s book about grief.
As an adult, I have a third book coming soon about narcissism and those who repeatedly treat those around them as lesser beings.
As an adult, I have my own webpage and blogging forum.
As an adult, I have met dozens through the donations of my children’s book.
As an adult, I will not be silenced by someone who abandoned me repeatedly.
As an adult, I was orphaned at the age of 39 by my mother.
As an adult, I was orphaned by my father at the age of 39 by my father.
I don’t have a brother, I never have even though he exists. He exists only to be whatever his mother wants him to be. He repeats the same cycle my grandmother and her son created for themselves as they lived together for 40 years. Some cycles repeat until someone has the courage to break them.
I broke the abusive, narcissistic cycle. Fight the DNA!
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