“She took care of me and my brothers, I’m sure that was really hard for her.’
‘That was her job.’
I feel interrogated, like I can’t say the right thing. I speed up, trying to explain myself.
‘Well, but I mean this was different from most parents.’ Shit. I hated how that came out.
‘How so?’
I pause to compose myself. Laura won’t rattle me. I speak in an even, measured tone.
‘She sacrificed everything for me. She constantly went without so she could take care of me. She put me first, ahead of herself.’
‘Hmm. And do you think that’s healthy?’
What kind of fresh hell is this? What is this impossible-to-ace quiz? I have no idea how I’m supposed to be answering to make Mom look good.”
―
Jennette McCurdy,
I'm Glad My Mom Died