Most years of my life I spent in confusion and angst trying to understand why those I loved treated me like garbage.

My mother, my step-mother, my teachers, my siblings, my classmates, my girlfriends.

The longest, most serious relationship I ever had was full of good and bad. A lot of bad.

After over a year of increasingly frequent outbursts of rage, violence, and unprovoked paranoia, I was still there. Taking worse beatings, growing more stressed, disassociating with my own heart ‘til I could barely speak or breathe or walk any further. Trying to maintain sanity, believe in a future of progress and showcase support and trust in somebody who had violated every part of my existence. 

At this point we were staying in an Airbnb in Tucson, Arizona, living well. We had shelter, we...

Please subscribe to keep reading.