DETACHING AMID FAMILY DYSFUNCTION

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A scene plays in my mind over and over when I was eight years old. Dad has unraveled. Desperate for a drink.

Before I escaped to the safety of my hiding place, before he tore his belt from the loops of his pants, before my sister told him that she wouldn’t eat the can of cold creamed corn Dad has served us for dinner, we had been waiting. Waiting for a warm meal. I didn’t understand how ...

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RISK-HOW WE DO IT EVERYDAY

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I’ve been thinking a lot about risk lately. Just the word used to cause a shudder in my body from head to toe. Risk. I knew I needed to take it when growing up in my family if I was going to change anything.  You see my father was an alcoholic. All the dysfunction you might imagine came with it. Rage, violence–verbal and physical intimidation–the codependent mother trying to keep the peace, and my sister and I, left to carve ...

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