I just didn't want what you wrote to sit out there unacknowledged, as sometimes happens on LJ with serious stuff. It's weird, when I was a teenager I kept trying to get somebody to recognize that Something Was Wrong in my house, and they basically handed back to me what you wrote--you're middle to upper-middle class, your grades are good, what's the problem? My mom-driving-nightmare for some reason also involved a thermos full of scalding water, and the dog wasn't calm, she was running all over the back seat, and managed somehow to spill the thermos. So then I was in trouble for getting my foot scalded. But each individual nightmare just sounds like a bad day; it's when you knit them all together into your whole childhood life that the seriousness becomes apparent--and nobody else really sees the whole relentless, seamless, escape-proof fabric, even though as a kid, I thought they could
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