Joyful Recollections of Trauma: A Hilariously Cathartic Memoir-in-Essays of Childhood Turmoil, Self Healing, and Finding Happiness

by Paul Scheer

As I’ve grown older, I’ve also spent time going through the belongings of people I loved after they passed, finding their “boxes” (which, frankly, are not as well organized as mine). While I might not really understand exactly what I’m looking at, I know that the items were important to these people, and I pocket an item or two to put into one of my own boxes because it makes me feel closer to them.

love that one of the ways we brought our child into the world was built around community, safety, and care—that’s my religion.

It was hard; in my household, there wasn’t much apologizing going on. Apologizing meant you were wrong. If someone else was responsible for your behavior, then you never had to be accountable for anything.

anger might get the better of me sometimes, but it will never get the best of me.

I’m not looking for someone to blame. That’s black-and-white. I’ve found peace in knowing that I can’t and shouldn’t penalize anyone for who they could have been, least of all my mom and dad. Judging them for what they couldn’t do then, and even what they can’t do now, doesn’t make anything better. Their inaction does not define them because they also did so many great things and I love them both, and I cherish the relationships I have with them.