In the beginning, I was the baby of the family. With two older sisters who were reckless, mischievous, and demanding of attention, I was along for the ride, literally clinging to my mother for dear life as she scolded my sisters. As I grew older, I sat and listened and observed and was content, until my sisters decided to exclude me from all of their play because I was the annoying baby who was spoiled and pampered. Of course, my life seemed much different from my perspective. I was quiet as a mouse, and since I didn’t squeak, I didn’t get any oil. I would often wander off by myself, alone for hours, and no one ever came looking for me. I would hide just to see how long it would take for someone to notice I was gone. When I eventually sauntered home, usually for food, all were oblivious to my prior absence. I didn’t realize at the time that everyone else was so completely wrapped up in their own world of trauma that they didn’t have the capacity to notice mine, let alone care. It didn’t mean that I wasn’t loved. My family just didn’t know how to love me in the way that I needed to be loved. Therefore, loving me wasn’t modeled, which means that it’s my responsibility to learn how to love myself now. I can’t change how I was treated in the past, but I can change how I treat myself today.