I, too, often wonder how much of my childhood was real. The longer I think about it, the more gaps I find, the more holes I find in my memories, the more broken I feel about the cards I was dealt.
While I cannot fully understand this experience Corey had with his mother, so much of it resonates with me. My mother, to my knowledge, has not been diagnosed with any mental illnesses (mostly because she does not believe in mental health). She has, however, been addicted to drugs likely longer than I have been alive. She filled our heads with so much nonsense but not because she thought that god knew what was best for us or that god was right, but because *she* thought she knew what was best for us, what was right. I never questioned her. Even when I should have. She could lie to my face, she could bully me worse than my peers, she could put her hands on me, she could threaten me, she could say or do whatever she wanted and somehow had the power to make me feel like she was always right, I was always wrong, and it was always my fault. The day that I finally took that power away from her is the day I truly got to start my life; and I only wish that I could have done it sooner.
She made sure that we never had a normal or consistent life. She made sure that we only had friends that she approved of, only contacted family members that she liked (these I could count on one hand. I wasn't even allowed to be upset about the passing of my grandmother in 2021.), only listened to music she liked (if you're wondering why I'm so loud about my love of Taylor Swift at my grown age, it is because I had to spend so much of my youth loving her in secret), only watched shows she liked and approved of, only had political beliefs that aligned with hers, this list goes on and on and on (and yes, the minute you challenged any of that--all hell broke loose). What I'm getting at here, is that reading this and seeing the control and power that Corey's mother held over him and his sister felt so painfully familiar to me that I had to set this down several times just to cry a little. Having a parent like this is so, so hard. Sometimes I don't know that there is enough Prozac or therapy in this world for me to ever truly be free from that woman. And it is because of that that I am so SO thankful that books such as this one exist. I hope that this book finds its way into the hands of kids who have to deal with anything like what we did so that they can realize that their normal is not actually normal, so that they can know that they are not alone, so that they can find and access resources to help them. I did not get my life back until I was in my 20s, and I have spent so much of the last few years beating myself up for not taking back my power sooner than I did, feeling so foolish that I was unable to see my mother for who she was, mourning the life that I could have had.
That being said, I am truly so happy about where I am now. Hell, I read this book for a class for a masters degree that will help me be able to get books like this in the hands of kids that need them. And I think that is really cool.
Yeah, no one asked for me to have a cry-fest/pity-party about my trauma on goodreads, but I definitely can't put all (or any?) of this in my assignment for this book so I've gotta put it somewhere. This book is beautiful in every way, and I know that I'm going to be thinking about it for a really really long time. Sufferers of abusive parents and/or religious trauma--this one is for you (if you like feeling seen, that is).