immigrant

‘My stepdad always told me I was bad luck. I never fit into his picture-perfect family. To avoid fights, I’d lose myself in a book or math problem. School was my safe-haven.’

“I didn’t care what school I went to as long as I could get away from home. I later dropped out of high school and started working the night shift at a restaurant. Weeks later, my school counselor called. ‘If I work something out with you, would you agree to come back?’ It was my second chance at life.”

‘His head was his hands. ‘It’s over! I ruined everything! Call the daycare. Tell them we can’t send the kids anymore.’ I used to hide in the bathroom to cry, but always kept my calm in front of him.’

“We had another baby, we were happy. Things were great, until they weren’t. I’ll never forget the day when I called in sick because of a bad migraine. An hour after my husband left for work, he called to tell me the bad news. He was crying, I could barely understand what he was saying.”

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