I got married when I was just nineteen years old, and, despite my attempts to be a good wife, my marriage failed shortly before the birth of my second child—Karl.
I was depressed because of my failed marriage and turned to drinking. I also started reaching out for love from other men who were abusive. This was really hard on my children–especially Karl.
To support my children, I got a job and tried with all of my heart to balance parenting and work. At first, my son Karl seemed unaffected by losing his father, but as he started coming by less often to see him, I could see Karl withdrawing into himself.
When Karl was twelve years old, his father died. I tried to comfort him, but he just got angry and barricaded himself in his bedroom. “I don’t care,” he said. But I could hear him crying on the other side of the door.
When Karl was fourteen, he entered high school. I prayed that he would do well and go on to college. Unfortunately, it became apparent right away that Karl was having...
