So I suppose I should formally introduce myself and tell you some of my history.
My name is Stacy. Iām the only child of a bad marriage, though my parents never separated. My mom was only 23 when they got married. A month shy of 25 when she had me.
My father was a verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abusive alcoholic. He never hit us, but he did a lot of damage. I clearly remember him calling me a worthless piece of shit when I was six years old.
I am quite smart and always got great grades. But if I so much as got one A-, I was called stupid and told ādo betterā. Doing your best and continuing to be told to do better is extremely difficult. It makes you question everything. It makes you feel inferior and insecure. I never felt good enough. I just wanted my father to say something positive. Maybe to even make him proud enough that he wouldnāt hate me. It took a very long time before I was able to get past that need.
I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and (mild) OCD as an adult. I suspect I also have BPD. Itās not easy, but meds and therapy have helped.
My experiences obviously shaped me as a person. I empathize with anyone who has felt similar.
Iām a cat mom to 3 kitties and a āstepmomā to a 12 year old girl. I put that in quotes because sheās my roommate/best friendās daughter. Iām not in a romantic relationship with her father. But she and I are extremely close and sheās been calling me mom since she was four.
I love the Red Sox and baseball in general. Hockey and football too. Iām definitely a sports nut.
Iām slowly working on covering myself in tattoos. I think I have 27. I honestly donāt remember. American trad is my favorite.
Feel free to ask me anything. I will try to answer honestly.













