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.