I sometimes question why I would make an effort to sit down and transcribe the very things that caused me so much pain in my life. I would venture to say, probably because it’s somewhat cathartic, and in doing so, maybe I can help others comprehend why they become the way they are and some of the reasons that cultivate this. It’s not entirely our fault; it’s not entirely your fault. We are not born fucked-up. We are created, formed, and molded by someone or by some unforeseen circumstances entirely beyond our control. Damage can be done in a multitude of ways to a child, be it by divorce, psychological or physical abuse, or childhood trauma. It seldom starts with intentional malice. It’s forged by a series of unfortunate events and, in turn, causes irreparable damage, which can and will carry forward to adulthood. I have spent countless hours writing this book in hopes of somehow coming to grips with my father’s death. So many tears and anguish fill these pages. Writing this book has dredged up years of feelings that I had compartmentalized and forgotten about. So, thank you for choosing to read my memoir. By your reading it, I can finally have that voice that had been silenced all these years.