with the color black, who wear black fingernail polish and heavy metal T-shirts with macabre drawings on them. The hormone storm of adolescence stirs up thoughts and fears about growing up, sadness over childhood losses, and a new sense of mortality. Sometimes it seems like all teenagers are thinking, "If my body can erupt like this and turn my feet into size-10 monsters, why couldn't I drop dead at any minute also?"
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But even though Rachel seemed typical, we were having problems at home. My second husband and I had split up during the previous summer. Because of the impending divorce, I was under financial and emotional stress.
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Yet I thought I was in a good place to handle these changes. I had been through a difficult time and had made big changes in my life. In the previous five years, I had dealt with some difficult issues: sexual abuse in my childhood, physical abuse by Rachel's dad, my second husband's drinking, and my own alcoholism. To make a long story short, I had sobered up, gone to therapy, and now felt optimistic about life. I had a sense of resolution about my family of origin. I thought I was done with serious issues for a while. I thought I was due for a breather. I got about three weeks.
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I couldn't afford to keep up our big old house myself. Rachel and I agreed to sell the house rather than take in roommates, but when it was time to
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