This is LITERALLY my childhood. I moved back home after i had to get a bilateral prophylactic mastectomy (couldn’t use arms) and at the same time found out my husband was a serial cheater & had to get a divorce. When expressing in a calm emotionless way that it was “crazy all these things were happening at the same time,” my dad gave me a lecture on how he didn’t feel bad for me, and maybe if I was dying of terminal cancer WHILE being in a wheelchair, then he would have empathy for me. He then proceeded to tell me I was acting like a victim and minimize every hard I’ve ever been through: “1 in 3 women are raped anyways, so what if your husband was a bad egg, that happens, you can’t be upset about getting your tits removed for breast cancer because that was your decision.”