My therapist once asked me if there’d been abuse in my family when I was a child. I was 22, and utterly dumbstruck. It was not just that this man to whom I was pouring out my very young adult heart would ask such a question, I wondered what it was about me that would make him ask it. I have always thought, and still do, that I had an extremely happy childhood – one filled with love and happiness and joy. And a sense of safety. My parents protected me from the horror and the dangers out there.

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