I spent my entire childhood trapped in a prison where i couldn't answer the door, have friends, or any symbol of normalcy in my life. We weren't to leave the house without permission and there was never permission. My childhood home was my prison. Yesterday I heard there were others. I'd like to meet them.

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I’ve never talked about it…

I didn’t even realize there were others.  Of course, I should have…but I’m guessing none of us talked about it. I still don’t know how I should talk about it.  My mom’s sick.  She is and always has been.  I felt like my home was something out of a horror film.  Driving by the home …

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