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Every time I read one of your mother stories I find myself holding my breath waiting for another blow to land. The power of the mother-daughter relationship is so fucking fierce...and I am so glad that I have three sons so I don't screw up an innocent daughter. One of these days, you're going to have a reading or event that I can actually attend and (not in a creeper sort of way) you will inevitably recognize a similar PTSD emanating from my eyes - and it won't be just a reflection. Thank you, always, for writing.

What I want to know is why after being put through such trama by our parents, do we feel the need to take care of them...after we spent majority of our life trying to recover and make due with what energy we had left. Why are we so willing to continue to sabotage ourselves (in my case) for the parents who clearly could care less about anything other than themselves???

Janice, I can't fathom the pain and the hurt that you've experienced.

My heart goes out to you, and to your mother.

Lexapro is a good one. Cool name too.

I'm going to name my first child Lexapro.

This reminds me of a story from my past. I was in counseling at the group home when the counselor asked me why I thought my mother went into a branch of nursing (hemodialysis) that was so inevitably depressing. I dismissively answered, "Because my father had kidney failure or something from the war."

("The war" was the Korean war and having never met my father I knew very few things two of which included he had a purple heart and kidney problems.)

Over a decade later my mother called me up and announced that she'd had an epiphany during her latest appointment with her psychotherapist. "I went into nursing because of your father."

At the time I hadn't avoided enough of my own truths to know how hard it is to really look in the mirror. Now I'm older and I avoid mirrors more often than not.

Gotta love lexapro; taking it allows me to balance ever so gracefully on that ledge between fear and faith. I sat down recently with my son and his therapist and did a family tree of neurosis (quality time!) Wonder what the conversation was like that he had with his friends after he took a picture of it to show them because no one would believe it otherwise. We deal with the cards we're dealt, and try not to leave too much carnage along the way... Tracy

Silvia, Heidi, Linda, Lori, Satia, Tracy, thank you! I feel tremendously supported by you, and I send you support in your own family struggles.

Janice, I wanted to say everything that everyone else on here has already said so much more eloquently than I ever could. It's a testament to your inspiring writing, your profound empathy, and your insightful brilliance that your readers are such a reflection of you.

Did that make any sense at all?

Janice . . . brilliant, kind, loving and amazingly insightful! Thanks for your wonderful story . . . it really reached into a deep place in me.

My mom also suffered from depression; my two daughters do, too, but it seems to have skipped me. I'm always amazed at how many different forms it takes, and I'm so grateful that there are meds around that can help the both of them. Very glad for Lexapro (and Zoloft ain't bad either!).

Always wishing you good things and much love,

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