Why I Moved Out on My Own

I wasn’t the kind of kid you picture leaving home at 16. I was an A student, I didn’t get in trouble, I didn’t smoke or do any drugs. I wasn’t physically abused, and my middle-class family probably looked pretty normal to those who knew us.

So, why was living at home so unbearable? So miserable that I chose to live in dumpy apartments and work three jobs at a time to put myself through school without help from my parents?

It’s hard to explain to people who haven’t lived in a house that feels like a cage. My parents don’t like children much, and while I think they love (in an abstract way) me and my sisters, their idea of parenting was always a dictatorship rather than a relationship.

Nothing I ever did was good enough. I remember one time I threw away a report card that was all “A?s. I knew from experience that report cards were a no-win situation. If I had ever brought home bad grades, I can’t even imagine what would have happened. When I brought home all “A?s and one “B?, all I heard was, “What happened in social studies?? And when I brought home all “A?s, I was treated to a rant about the sad state of education if I could get all “A?s “with so little effort?
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