Sunday Dispatch: The Ghost in the DNA

When you realise the "monster" under the bed was just untreated, undiagnosed, and drowning.

The Vow

I made a vow when I was twelve years old. I think many of us did.

I was sitting on the stairs, listening to the familiar, rising cadence of a parental meltdown downstairs. It was over something small - a lost set of keys, a spilled drink, a tone of voice that was interpreted as “disrespect.”

The air pressure in the house had dropped. The “walking o…