A little too close to home for me, Marley. My father and his two sisters had, I believe, a genetic disposition to mental illness. One aunt is still alive. Each of her seven sons might visit her once a year for about an hour. That is about all they can handle before she starts playing “games.” I haven’t seen my aunt for eight years even though she lives just one hour away.

Not one of three siblings would ever admit something was wrong with them. It was all everyone else’s fault.

I turned to alcohol and parties as my relief, but slowly turned away from that lifestyle (I kind of grew up). I believed I was mentially well, but a unique combination of life events convinced me that I needed help, which I got. About a year later, I realized that I was much happier — and I had been living in a mild state of depression for 30 years. And that affected a lot of life decisions between the ages of 15 to 45.

I would like to say that I am cured, but I am cautious. Maybe “much better” is a better term. There may be more life lessons to learn. But it is much easier for me to understand why this world is so screwed up.