As a child, the only hope you had of control was to think that you were responsible for your parents unhappiness. I mean, i feel like sometimes wequate control with its being the gateway to hope, whereas it's actually the exact opposite. My son is 31 now and he does not need me to run alongside him on his hero's journey with juice boxes and chopstick. And so what i do frequently as i grip my own wrist and i say, honey, stop. You know, Releas peas.

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