“I don’t know why my mother hated me. She had a sickness that...

“I don’t know why my mother hated me.  She had a sickness that you could not see.  But she convinced me that I was sick.  And that everything was because of me.  And that I’m a monster.  She criticized everything.  My way of eating.  My way of speaking.  My way of dressing.  Anything that brought me joy, she would deny me.  If I defended myself, she would hit me.  I was terrified of lunch and dinner because that’s when I had to face her.  I spent my entire childhood alone.  I just played with my cats in the garden.  Or sat on the floor of my bedroom.  I’d try so hard to leave my body because I didn’t want to be on earth.  And that’s when the spirits and fairies would come to me.  Even Mother Mary came to me.  I was never afraid of them.  They’d comfort me.  I remember being seven years old, sitting alone beneath a tree, talking to the fairies.  Another little girl walked up and asked what game I was playing.  That’s when I realized nobody else could see what I was seeing.  And it’s been a very lonely existence since then.”
(Paris, France)