For as long as I could remember, I was disabled. And that was tough, not only because I was the only one among my four siblings (all girls, except for our eldest, a boy), and being in the middle didn’t help. No, the other reason was because my mother despised me. She saw me as an aberration in her perfect family. Many people speak of a mother’s love—how it’s warm and encompassing, how it is never ending and understanding, how it makes you strong and dauntless. I never felt any of these, at least not directly. The only love I had from my mother was the little warmth of love that oozed from the ones she showered on my siblings.