I grew up in an abusive household with alcoholic parents. I was so scared of violence I couldn't sleep for years without my shoes on in case I had to jump out of the window and run for my life. I remember having to clean my mothers' blood up off the walls of our living room because her crackhead boyfriend took a hammer to her head, and the taste of government cheese (surprisingly tasty), and being so emotionally withdrawn that people assumed I was a mute.

Please stop complaining.