You are the cause for my insecurities. For my dysmorphic body image. You are the reason why I would sit in the bathroom as a child and pinch all my fat after you told me I was a fat ugly duckling.
You’re close with your parents and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Calling them and talking about anything and everything (and sometimes nothing) is near and dear to your heart.
Every mother’s day since the incident, I think of how close I came to not having a mother anymore.
“One day, my little brother announced that Roger wouldn’t be around anymore, since he shot and killed himself and his whole family.”
“My mom was the first one in her family of seven to get a college degree and I’m extremely proud of her for that.”
You’re not unlovable because of what your parents put you through.
I am a true believer in that everything happens for a reason and that every obstacle you face in your life has lead you to where you are today.
“Is there something about me that is completely identical to you? Is there something about me that is completely the opposite of you?”
They’re the most body confident people on the planet.
Watching somebody die isn’t scary, or fearful, or sad. As my mom used to say, when somebody dies, the curtains of life are briefly opened.