I was about nine when I was running errands with my best friend and her mom. When we passed by the jailhouse, I said, 'My daddy goes there sometimes' and laughed. She knew about our family drama and shared with me that I shouldn't tell people that my daddy was in jail. I didn't understand because my mama would tell everyone like she was telling a funny story. It wasn't until later on that I realized family trauma isn't funny.
When I was about 15, my friends and I got into a minor car accident. No one was hurt, but we all called our parents to let them know and to come pick us up. Every parent greeted their child, yet my mom just walked past me, only to comment on her weight loss to my friends' parents. That disconnect hit me hard, especially when she pointed a gun at me for being late.
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