I’d spent so much emotional effort not wanting to become my parents, especially in scenarios where my under-two-year-old child was present. Yet, here I still was, screaming at the top of my lungs in our kitchen instead of looking for common ground, practicing empathy, literally using any of my other emotional skills.

Actually. There is no third person narration. There is no romance in suffering, even if it is together. But boy, isn’t it a pretty snapshot from my life. Two real people met as they were dealing with personal internal pain and without promising to fix each other, they helped each other through it.