If you grew up learning to read a grown-up’s mood before you could tie your shoes, you know what it means to walk on eggshells. This book begins by naming what that childhood actually was: the silences, the sudden storms, the brief golden stretches that made you wonder whether you had imagined the danger. It never hands you a label in place of an explanation, and it never suggests that either you or your parent is simply at fault. Instead, it follows the trail from those early years into the life you live now — in your body, in your closest relationships, and in the quiet ways you keep watch over rooms that are perfectly safe. Written for the adult child who cannot quite explain why home felt dangerous or what those years did to them, this is a careful, unflinching guide to untangling survival skills from your true self. You will learn to notice the old patterns when they surface, to grieve the parent you could not rely on without condemning the one you had, and — entirely at your own pace — to make decisions about contact that belong to you alone.
Perpetua Culpepper Kirkbride writes for The Estrangement Library.