I was sick a lot. I remember making myself sick before you would come to pick us up.

I didn’t want to go.

I hated Margery and I was afraid of you. There was this one time I got so worked up that I ended up
throwing up just before you got there. Another time I just begged her to let me stay there and not have
to go. Everything I did was a disappointment to you or made you angry. The way I moved, if it was too
slow or too delicate, you said I was being haughty, a “stuck up bitch like your mother” you said. And you
said other things to that effect. Things like, “that look. That’s your mother right there. Snotty, arrogant,
cold.” You are not who I wanted you to be either. You weren’t the kind of father I thought I should
have, but I guess we’re both shit outta luck on that one. I cry myself to sleep, a lot. If it weren’t for Mom
and Grandma and David I don’t know where I would be… Probably in a straightjacket motel. I don’t
know how to express myself honestly to just about anyone. I hide how I really feel inside almost all of
the time, because I’m afraid that they will not like me or not approve of me and abandon me like you
did as soon as I got old enough to disagree with you. I don’t trust anyone and I’m cruel to myself. I’m
isolated and I don’t know how to ask for help. It’s taken me until now at forty years old for the first time
in my life starting to learn how to have a healthy relationship. So what did you hear from Mayo Clinic?