It all started when I was a little girl. My father was a severe alcoholic and I watched him physically abuse my mom almost every single night. I used to wake up in the middle of the night and hear her on the living room couch crying so I would curl up and sleep with her to comfort her. One night my mom and I were sleeping in the front bedroom when my dad came home incredibly drunk. I was woken up by my mom trying to slip me out of the nightgown I was wearing, quietly to not wake my dad up because he had passed out, urinated on the bed, and had a tight grip on my nightgown. When he woke up later that night he was furious, drunk, and decided to beat my mom. I watched him torture her and was terrified he was going to kill her so I ran next door, naked and afraid, and asked the neighbors to call the cops. After they divorced, my mom was a single mom of 2, me being the oldest, she worked job after job to take care of us and wound up pregnant with my little brother. Shortly after my brother was born we would go stay with different family members during the day while my mom worked. For many years, I was sexually abused by two different uncles who made me feel like I could never say anything because it was my fault. They took advantage of a scared and sad little girl any chance they got. I remember asking them to stop and saying no but it didn’t change anything. The shame bothered me for a very long time because it happened over and over.