My mother was a drug addict.
She was a full-functioning drug addict her entire life. But as a kid I didn’t know what kinds of drugs she used.
My father was an alcoholic. He was a drink-’til-he-passed-out-andurinated-on-himself alcoholic. But I loved him; he was my heart.
I have an older sister, Jody, and a younger sister, Jade. As we grew up, my mom yelled at all of us continuously—but my sisters never got hit. That kind of abuse was reserved for me.
Along with the physical abuse came the mental assaults.
I was always “stupid.”
I was “dumb.”
I was “ugly.”
Of the three kids, I was the “ugliest.” The baby was the prettiest, then my older sister, then me. I don’t look like my sisters. I look like my mother….