As I scroll through this site, reading all of the hell many of you have been through, are going
through and such, it reminds me of how far I've come.

This may sound mean, but I'm glad BM is gone. Passed away. Out of the picture forever. Right before
her final days, SD actually admitted knowing about her mother's prostitution. No, she didn't stand
on the corner wagging her tail, but she may as well have. A porch light shy of a red light bulb, shall
we say.

I’m glad I no longer have to hide things. SD has not been to our home in quite some time, so it
has been pleasant not to have to rig the medicine chest. I used to place huge marbles in the chest
in a just-so manner, that would allow them to fall to the floor in a loud clatter if she opened the cupboards.
And sure enough, every single time she used to come out, we would hear the crash, and then, “Oh, I
had a headache and was looking for an aspirin.” or “I needed a bandaid.” Every single time. I actually
switched pills one time, just hoping she would take whatever it was. Nothing tragic, just a little rush
to the bathroom type stuff. Yes, she actually took medication from our home.
It has been nice to sit on the deck and not have to follow her inside when she was going to ‘refill her drink’.
I always had to make excuses to go into the house. What the hell is she getting into now?

My gosh, as I sit here and reminisce, I don’t know how I did it sometimes.