“You’re Making Up Symptoms,” They Laughed—Until the Specialist’s Report Came Back.

had shaped my childhood, who had broken something in me, who were now trying, imperfectly, to acknowledge what they’d done. It didn’t erase the year I’d lost. It didn’t undo the damage to my organs. But it was real. It was uncomfortable. It was accountability without the escape hatch of excuses.

“Thank you for saying that,” I said quietly. “It matters continue reading …