My journey began the night my boyfriend, Mark, forced me to choose between him and my family, all because of his past. I thought our love could weather anything, but the reality of marrying a divorced man in a traditional family shattered my illusions. As I struggled to find my voice amid heartbreak and pressure, I was forced to confront what loyalty, love, and sacrifice really mean.
Until I was three years old, I believed my name was “Pumpkin.” Why? Because that’s what my dad called me. As I grew into a teenager, this affectionate nickname took on a different meaning as I began to see the complexities in my father’s behavior.
For almost two years, my husband and I have had no contact with his father. This man, who sees himself as a paragon of virtue, embodies nothing but outdated and harmful beliefs. Conversations with him are always toxic, yet my husband, Mark, still struggles to see the full extent of his father’s negative influence. My father-in-law, Richard, believes a woman’s place is in the kitchen and the delivery room.
