I remember Elaine all but pulling me out of my hiding place the day she took me. I sobbed and pleaded for Mom and Dad, anybody, to help me. There wasn’t anyone. The people who were supposed to keep me safe gave me to Elaine and Herb. Mom and Dad couldn’t help me. I couldn’t even help myself. I escaped, but Mom and Dad had to send me back.
Even after Elaine died, I was afraid. I manage it better now, but I’m still afraid.
I’m afraid of other people’s anger. I’m afraid of divorce. I’m afraid to lose my kids. I’m afraid for Frankie. I’m in constant pain and lupus will forever be part of my life, which makes me wonder how anyone could find me attractive.
I’m afraid of my financial issues. We’re broke, lying to everyone we know about money, creditors call every week, and we’re going to speak with bankruptcy lawyers. How am I supposed to make it? What do I do?
I pause and take a breath.
Anyway, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know, really know, that I’m a much stronger woman in sobriety than I’ve ever been, but I get overwhelmed sometimes and feel small and vulnerable.
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