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“The problem didn’t start until I was ten.  I remember her being…


“The problem didn’t start until I was ten.  I remember her being happy when I was little.  Super happy.  Really loving and caring.  Always spending time with us.  Knowing exactly what we needed.  Everyone in the family has different theories about what happened.  She was only nineteen when she met my dad.  He was already a partner at a really big law firm.  So she’s never had to work.  All she had to do was spend time with us.  My dad thinks she was so attached to me and my brother that she was terrified of losing us.  And when we became old enough to attend boarding school, that fear overcame her.  She drank all the time.  Even when she wasn’t drinking, it felt like a time bomb until she was.  She’d say unpleasant things.  She’d fall down the stairs.  She’d be unconscious or vomiting.  Dad was always traveling, so it was my responsibility to stop her, or she’d end up in the hospital.  I’d lock doors.  I’d take her money.  I’d hide keys.  But she’d do anything to escape.  She withdrew from so many rehab facilities.  I grew so depressed that my psychiatrist recommended a meditation retreat in the countryside.  One thing they taught us is that suffering comes from our attachments.  I think I’ve become attached to the memory of my mum being well, and my desire to go back there.  When I was a child we’d always take these holidays to the Turkish seaside.  We’d eat fruits on the beach.  Mum would caress my head on her lap.  She’d watch us swim.  And whenever I got out of the water, she’d be there with a towel to keep me warm.”
(London, England)

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