‘I don’t blame you, but I want you to understand how your actions affected me’: the letter you always wanted to write When I was a child, I had a recurring nightmare in which I and my two brothers were little pigs running scared through the woods near the family home. You were a roaring T-rex. We would race to the edge of the lake and swim to the island in the middle, where a stegosaurus – our mother – protected us. In real life, you ruled my childhood home like a tyrant, always moments away from blowing up and filling the house with fear. You once hit me so hard I wet myself, and for years, after school, I would sit on the floor of the shower, weeping. School wasn’t a welcome break. My crippling insecurity and timidity made me an easy target for violent bullies.
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