For as long as I could remember I had been trying to prove my worth. I remembered myself as a teenager, debating with my lawyer father at the dinner table, feeling so proud—and relieved—when he was impressed by a persuasive argument. My heart sank as I recalled how I had played out this same routine with my teachers or others in authority. When images of my mother arose—her lying in bed reading a mystery novel, gin and tonic by her side—I felt flooded by memories of her struggle with depression and anxiety. Maybe my compulsion to appear strong and together was a way of avoiding those same
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