This is a story about my 57 year old mother and me, her 31 year old daughter living together again at home in the country going through divorces at the same time and dealing with the emotions and traumatic feelings that go along with that for anyone while helping each other one day at a time. I'm the daughter, youngest of three, mama's baby-type, with attachment issues related to my traumatic childhood and alcoholic, abusive father who consistently beat the hell out of mom while my siblings watched on in terror, paranoid type who is a "secret" writer with no confidence. I have a long history of mental health issues that have over the years has somehow gone from having an executive level job at a forensic psychology practice, a beautiful home in new Orleans, lavish opulent living with my brilliant, good looking, OCD husband and with my three dogs where I never had a budget and apparently took things for granted. The city of New Orleans and I took each other on and the city won. My current diagnosis is Borderline Personality Disorder with bipolar, anxiety and Adult ADD. I've been living home for almost one year exactly. The cause of my demise is my fault. Or my behavior under stress acted out and the following occurred.
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