This truth keeps coming back to the shore of my skin:
If you never had “good enough” parents, this is not an essay to keep you off the hook. I didn’t have great parents, and at 34 I can honestly say: I am golden.
Sure, I have plenty of privileges, the first one being that I was born and raised in France.
But I need you to believe me when I say that rewiring is around the corner. Let me explain.
Two years ago, on my birthday, I received a call telling me my father had fallen into a coma. I knew he hadn’t been feeling super well for a while, but when the news hit me, I went blank; I simply didn’t know what to feel.
The reason was simple:
