to give up the offer of a job of running a UK publishing company, and return to Los Angeles to help a brother and his two daughters through a truly awful custody battle with a sociopath, I would not have taken it.
Family had always meant a lot to me, I suppose because I just didn't have a "normal" one.
Now, I am the one who is broken and there's no one to help me at all. In fact it would appear that I have become the pariah of the family.
Sad, and finding it hard to start again.
61 is a hard age to realise that all that you've stood for, justice and fair treatment brings you to a point of desperation.
Depression is not understood. Neither is ptsd or panic disorder. A fact that I realise must be common to so many people suffering with the same serious illness.
So you put one step in front of the other, and hope.
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