The Day I Stopped Fighting

Ever since I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder three years ago, no one in my family had smiled.

My dad, David, was always on the go.

After his office job, he'd pick up odd shifts on construction sites to save money for my treatment.

My mom, Sarah, not only took care of me but also went to the hospital every day to look after my grandma, who was paralyzed.

My five-year-old sister, Chloe, already did most of the chores at home and always watched my mood nervously.

Today was Chloe's sixth birthday.