Ultimately rehashing my childhood unfairnesses and sorrows was detrimental. I learned nothing new, mother was sure mean, and it distorted childhood memories. I wish I’d spent my room time digging up fun and silliness which were just as present as the anxieties.

My therapy was a PhD in how to be a depressive, living in the saddest, most unsuccessful, powerless moments of life.

It left me with, if anything, a diminished mindset and no skills to be a positive partner, colleague or friend.