Q: As a mother, I'm right now navigating the hardest moment with my two daughters and my son I was raped at 15 and molested by a teacher from 1516 it took 13 years of fighting before I saw any justice for those crimes and it paled in comparison to having to live with that trauma for the last 25 years. I thought I had moved past it for the most part, thanks to supportive family and lots of counseling and medication to treat my treatment resistant depression I've struggled over the last 25 years. I will be 40 this year. My son, the oldest, turned 15 this year the same age I was when it began. I see how young he is and recognized for the first time just how young I had been when I was abused. That was really hard for me, emotionally. Now, I look at my two girls, ages 9 and 3, and worry for their safety - probably more than I should, but understandable given what I went through. We have had lots of "body safety" talks and my older daughter understands the very basics of what I went through, mainly because I have spent a great part of this past year writing a memoir about my experiences and have begun speaking publicly about what I went through and what it means to be a survivor. This is challenging because it's hard to talk about and explain to a child in a way that they understand without making them fear the world. I struggle with this often. I've chosen to use it as an opportunity to teach them about activism and the power of speaking the truth, what it means to be a survivor instead of a victim. I hope they grow up and see just how strong their mother is and how she has worked in the community to raise awareness and help others. Question: What are some truths about the author? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- she has overcome trauma.
- not enough information
- she's an excellent role model.
- She is strong and very brave.

A: She is strong and very brave.

input: OPTIONS:
- 27
- 26
- 28
- not enough information Now, answer this question: As someone diagnosed with bpd this question kinda tugged at my heart, for a few reasons. From my understanding, the core of the disorder is an unstable sense of self and an inherent shame or worthlessness. Before I was treated I thought I just needed someone else, the right person to come along to love me in just the right way, being mindful of trauma and never triggering my symptoms. I was living in a fantasy world. You cannot expect another person, a whole person with a sound mind and stable to sense of self to subject themselves to the circus act of our lives. We can't even manage it ourselves!! I have been in two long-term relationships, and dozens of short ones six months or less. One of the two began when I was very low and lasted a very toxic 3 years. I entered treatment during that relationship, which resulted in it's demise. I was much happier afterward. The second relationship began after I completed treatment. We have seperated twice during the past 2 and a half years, and our relationship is currently rocky as well. But who I am in the relationship has changed. I am no longer the girl who needs extra reassurance daily that he's coming home from work. I can breathe when he goes to hang out with his friends. I am not threatened by every waking thought of his not being about me. Instead I am the woman that validates him and myself in arguments, and I put respect over everything. Of course I lose my temper. Self improvement is a constant process. But, to avoid hurting anyone you love, you should definitely talk to a counselor if you are looking for another person to help you :) For family members/lovers/caregivers, it's stressful and often results in a lot of resentment in the relationship! Be safe! Question: At what age did the author start her second relationship? === The answer to the above question is
A:
output: not enough information

Hmmm that's a hard one. At first I was going to say giving them daily chores, but the "reward" part of that has actually not been realized yet (what with all the eye rolling and such). So I will have to go with family dinners at the table. Sometimes, "dinner" is fast food, sometimes it is a meal I slaved over for hours - that part doesn't seem to matter. Whether we are talking about our day, learning manners, having serious discussions, or laughing until we spit our drinks - it is where grow. There have been horrible nights at the table, where we shared bad news. There have been fabulous nights where we celebrated successes and talked about exciting things to come. There have been nights where the kids can see that Mom and Dad are "at odds" and nights where they see us push that aside and joke with each other for the sake of saving the evening. When they were little, we did "About Your Day" - one funny thing, one sad thing, one new thing you learned. Now, they are all teenagers, and the conversations just seem to flow, with never enough time to fit it all in before someone has to rush off to work, to study, or to get ready for bed because we are eating "after practice". My twins will be Seniors next year, and I know that our table will look a little different from now on. But when I look at that worn oak (outdated) table, that needs refinishing in the worst way - I am grateful for the evenings there, where my kiddos learned to be a family. Don't be misled, we are not the Cleavers. We have "Fun Friday" where Mom does not get to badger them about their table manners (ugh - they revel in this), Sometimes we eat in the living room while we watch a movie, sometimes we eat in shifts because of our schedules. However, the majority of meals have been together ~ I feel like this is a gift we gave them. Question: Dinner probably usually lasted: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- 3 minutes
- About 30 mins
- not enough information
- 5 hours

Answer: About 30 mins

Problem:OPTIONS:
- stop swapping sweaters because she doesn't like feeling sad
- not enough information
- Keep swapping sweaters because it's a thing
- May stop swapping sweaters because the game is getting old

"Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I was passing through the hallways of school last year, being messenger boy for the teachers, when this girl walked up to me. I had no clue who she was, but I thought she was a year younger than me. That's why I thought it was weird that she said my name. But the "nice sweatshirt" bit was what really got me. I wasn't even wearing my sweatshirt. So. There was a substitute teacher in my literacy class, so my class was split. half of us did actual work, and the other half watched a documentary. Ben, Evan, Isabelle and myself were put together in the class watching the super boring documentary. We got bored, so, when Ben left the classroom for a bit and left his jacket behind, I don't remember why, but, I put on his sweatshirt and traded it for mine. This turned into everyone swapping sweatshirts for the next hour until school was out. At one point I was called to the office to deliver a message to a different classroom. I walked out of the office with the information, and turned around at the sound of my name. "Hey, Natalie! Nice sweatshirt!" I smiled and thanked her like the nice human being I want people to think I am. Once she started down the stairs I looked down at my sweatshirt. Black and orange? Nike? But my sweatshirt's gray and purple! Then I remembered our little game of "try not to get caught swapping sweatshirts and giggling". I wasn't wearing my sweatshirt. Someone else had it. I was wearing Evan's. It's also kind of sad because that was one of the only compliments I've gotten from a stranger all year. Complimented on something that wasn't even mine Welcome to my life, everybody! Question: Natalie will probably: === The answer to the above question is
****
A:
Keep swapping sweaters because it's a thing