Don’t Believe Everything You Think

Reader Contribution by Staff
Published on August 2, 2012
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When I look back at my life from age 17 until my thirties and midforties, I am astounded at how far I’ve come. During much of that time, I was virtually alone, depressed, anxious and distrustful.

I wrote a poem in my early thirties summed up my feelings that were at the core of my miserableness. No one cares for anyone/Anyone feels the same/Commitment is such a Dubious Deed/It drives us all insane.

Where did this gloom come from?

I grew up in an extremely dysfunctional – and unloving — family. My dad was stern and disapproving father. He answered any questions I asked with a tone that said “You idiot.”

My mother was volatile and sharp tongued. She would lash out at me and my brothers with little provocation, spewing hatred. My older brother who bore the brunt of their fury, took his angst out on me, relentlessly tormenting and criticizing me.

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