Cassandra
May twentieth for me is always difficult. It always has been. The horrible date meant the anniversary of the day my mother's life changed. The date when her fight began.
This horrible date also meant the anniversary of my father's death. Yup, three years today was the day he was shot and killed while on duty. He died doing a routine traffic stop.
A f*****g traffic stop.
Apparently, the driver who got pulled over was so high on drugs and out of his own mind that he reacted violently and hostile, pulling a gun and shooting my father. This was his end of watch.
This horrible date also meant the day that my own internal battle began and ended, the day that I became bulimic. The day I figured that was the only way to lose weight and see results fast enough so I wouldn't be dis
