Do you believe that things happen for a reason? During my childhood and teenage years, I clung to God’s will like it was a life-raft, and I was trapped in the middle of the ocean with a hurricane raging around me.
When I would lie in bed at night wondering why my mother and father got divorced, I would say well there must be a reason. I would cry about why I couldn’t live with my mom, and why she chose drugs and stripping over taking care of me.
I thought it was beyond unfair that I was living with my abusive Grandma. Well-meaning people would tell me that there was a reason.
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