After I wrote my background account, I had a cup of tea and then came back to read it through. On reading it, I became extremely distressed. I’d never written an account of my childhood down in black and white before, and I was really shocked at how horrible it sounded. I feel quite stupid that I hadn’t seen anything wrong with it previously. I’ve always believed that it was unusual, but okay. I called a friend and by the time she arrived at my apartment, I was quite hysterical. She read what I’d written and told me she thought it sounded abusive. I felt compelled to justify that it wasn’t – that it wasn’t that bad, that I was probably being a bit of a drama queen, that lots of other people had truly horrific childhoods. I can’t explain why I still feel obliged to try to make it sound alright. I cried for a very long time and my friend tried to comfort me. I went to bed and slept very badly, waking up every hour or so and feeling completely panic-stricken.
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