Inside the family, I bent everyone carefully around his wild mood swings, explosive anger, unseen grenades. When one of us stepped on one anyway, I tried to control (his) behavior and (their) responses. It wasn’t fine, but I tried to make it fine. Our marriage wasn’t fine, but I pretended it was. The kids weren’t fine, but I told them they were. He wasn’t fine, but I treated him like he was.
