Life on the Borderline

Like many in my generation—I’m 50 years old—I grew up in a home that was wildly unpredictable. My mother could seem attentive, even loving, at one moment, and fly into a rage over something as trivial as my leaving my handbag on the kitchen table the next. Much of my mother’s wrath was aimed at my father. She picked fights, shrieking obscenity-laced accusations and demands, and when that didn’t work, grew stonily silent until her next explosion. My father dealt with my mother’s baffling behavior by walking out the door for a day, a night, a week, at which point my mother would then turn her anger towards me. As a child, unfortunately, I didn’t have the option of leaving....more

Love Thyself

I remember sitting in AP Psychology in high school and my teacher was telling us that if we wanted to feel happy we should force ourselves to smile. If your face displays a smile, your mind will start to believe it. For some reason, this always stuck with me. And at times when I am in a pissy-no-good-for-anything-kinda mood, I tell myself, “Just effin smile and you’ll feel better.” It usually works too—sometimes only for a few minutes until I cynically mock myself for smiling at nothing and go back to being a cranky-arse....more