My first bully was my stepdad. My mom met him at the gym and for some reason decided he was a keeper, so he waltzed into our lives through a wide open door. It didn’t matter that he was a recovering addict. It didn’t matter that he was young. It didn’t matter he came with a lot of baggage … because we had recently fled DV from my bio dad. Our family was in shambles and just wanted someone to love us. And for a brief, BRIEF moment, I thought I’d found a real father. And then he moved in.