My family like to drink, and they have breakdowns.

2017 opened with two relatives entering psychiatric hospitals, and a third turning up on the doorstep and bursting into tears.


It is sad, as I really wanted this New Year to go well, but why am I not surprised?

It is the same every year.


When I was sixteen, I was in a psychiatric hospital because it was relatively safer.

My family is dysfunctional.

I did not not know that word then.

I was uneducated as to psychology in my teenage years.

I had no language to explain what was happening at home.


I look at other families, and I wonder how they do it.

No real dramas from year to year.

They even claim their life is boring, their marriages are boring.

I would love to be bored.

Being bored must be amazing.


If you are curious as to how I respond, I try to help.

I am older now, and stronger.

I have broader shoulders.

There is a lot to be said for growing up.


My parents and I collect care parcels to be delivered to hospitals.

We counsel those who drink on the ‘phone.

We make tea for relatives weeping in the front room.


I have come a long way, but sometimes I would prefer to be bored.





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