Recovery Sucks

Being crowned homecoming queen fast-tracked me to an identity crisis that catalyzed my disclosure of ten years of sexual abuse at the hands of my stepfather. I dropped out of high school for the first half of my senior year while the disclosure was incinerated in my notorious stepfather's career-climbing kiln. I am recovering my authentic self from the rubble of losses amassed over years of enduring entirely narcissistic parents. I felt shame and disgrace about the unsavory and scandalous parts of my life. As a result, I kept quiet and kept my words to myself. I had every reason to die in a self-destructive implosion. Instead, I wrote this book. Recovery is a gritty and ceaseless process that has no finish line. My mother always told me I was going to "need a lot of therapy." She also told me to "never have kids because it will be the worst thing you ever do." My mother was right about the therapy, but she was wrong about the kids. Life is riddled with conflict. Conflict motivates my writing and passion for conflict resolution. Twenty years of therapy at two to three times per week helped me construct a useful and productive life, and it has allowed me to hone my native genius: being a mother. I've given myself a self-accredited PhD in life with a master's in conflict resolution and personality disorders. My greatest hope is that you are entertained and inspired by my life story. The self-discovery that occurred during the creation of this book holds some shocking conclusions. Is it possible that being sexually abused was my saving grace? Is it possible that my alcoholism is not destructive? This book is not a how-to about recovery. It is about self-discovery and where I am in the sucky recovery process.