The Lie That Killed Me: My Parents Wanted to Teach Me a Lesson

I was born highly sensitive. In my family, I was the fragile princess who couldn't be touched or spoken to without causing a scene.

If there was a tiny thread at the bottom of the new socks my mom bought me, I would scream and cry, refusing to wear them no matter how much she begged.

If my dad spoke just a little too loudly or frowned, I would instantly think he didn't love me anymore. My eyes would fill with tears, and I would sob in deep, dramatic agony.

Even when we went to the amusement park with my little sister, Maya, I would just hide behind Mom, clutching her hem.