She is the cause of my worrying. My mama sent newspaper articles to me while I was away at college. Girls had died doing everything I did. The more she tried to control me, the more rebellious I became.

I went to the creek on Sundays with lots of friends. We drank beer and skipped church. I took a night class and walked across the dark quad to my room.

She worried about my safety but at the same time, treated me with contempt.

She didn’t like the way I dressed, the way I wore my hair, my every move, my personality, my individuality.  She criticized me constantly. and tried to control my art business.

I do believe she was jealous of me

She must have felt guilty about her insolence toward me and that’s why she was so afraid I would die. She would never get over my demise.

In the end, it was always all about her.