How could you do this to me?
I slammed the door shut.
NO! I’m not coming out of this room!
I was sixteen years old, holding myself hostage in the bedroom, wailing and crying.
Mom brought her boyfriend home, unannounced, late at night, when I wasn’t ready to accept any of that.
It was a tough year. My parents separated. Mom, sisters and I moved to a new place. I had no friends, no money, no car. I felt powerless, trapped and hurt.
The wounds were still too raw.
So I resorted to stonewalling, barricading myself behind a locked door, wailing loud enough for my outrage to be heard.