Thank you for being brave enough to publicly speak your truth into existence. It helps me more than you know. I have many stories like this, and they are almost all written; it has been the best way I’ve found to take the power from those memories-to get them out of my head and down on paper. But I am still too worried about what my father would do with the rage he would no doubt gather up if he found out I was telling the family secrets ( or, in his constant drugged out, blackout drunk state, my lies) to outsiders. He can’t get to me, but my mom wouldn’t be safe.

I know it’s her choice to still be with him. I know I deserve to tell the story. I just keep praying he won’t wake up, and she will be safe no matter what I say.

I’m sorry you endured that. I’m sorry you had to learn to be this strong. Sorry you didn’t have a daddy. ☹

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.