To make this story short is actually quite hard. I was raised as a Jehovahs Witness, yet also in an abusive family. I was no doubt a daddy's girl, regardless if he was occasionally abusive. My parents were married for 29 years, until my dad died.
Right after my family finally purchased the house they worked their entire lives for. He was diagnosed with cancer and died 3 months later holding my hand.
In the meantime, my moms doctor went from giving her valium and vicodin to straight up oxycotin which eventually turned into heroine. Ending up with her making a series of terrible decisions, putting her quickly into a horrifying marriage ending 10 years later to him committing suicide. Hanging in the garage on super bowl sunday.
I had son, Noah, when I was 16 years old. Kicked out of the house by my stepdad, I rented a room for $300/month, went to what I call the "baby momma" high school with my baby and afterwards did telemarketing 5-9pm.