My life as I know it
I will include a trigger warning for mentions of molestation, sexual assault, bullying, alcoholism, and self-harm. This may be a long read, and I apologize in advance. My earliest memory goes back to when I was about four years old. It was early morning—the birds were out, and the weather was warm, a perfect summer day. I remember needing to use the bathroom, as I was potty trained by then, but my bedroom door was locked. It was locked nearly every night until I was about five, maybe five and a half. I banged on the door, crying and shouting that I needed to go. I kicked and screamed, helpless and hungry, until he finally opened the door and asked what I wanted. I remember thinking, 'Really? I’m four.' Another memory comes from when I was about five and a half. It was a summer morning, and my bedroom window was open. A bee—a huge one, at least to my young eyes—was flying and buzzing around my room. As usual, I had been locked in my bedroom overnight. I screamed and cried until ...