Nothing. That's what I told myself happened in my life. As far as I remembered it was uneventful, not the happiest upbringing, but never terrible. I knew my parents loved me and, every beatings I got, I deserved. I was familiar with hunger, but I never really knew hunger. I had access to an education. Sometimes, I even had friends, like really close friends. I never met my grandparents, but I had a family and they always did their best.

When the therapist said: "So, you're angry," in a matter-of-fact tone, my kneejerk reaction was to respond: "No!" in an assertive tone, slipping a hint of anger. "I had everything I ever needed," I added firmly.

"How could I ever be angry at my parents? It wasn't their fault that I didn't have everthing I ever wanted, at least I got everything I ever needed. They worked really hard to provide for me. They aren't perfect, but I'll ride or die for my family, no matter what. That's the kind of daughter that I am."

I am dying for you, fam.