Life is a mixed blessing, which we vainly try to unmix.
It must infuriate our children to see us always so much more forbearing with everybody else's.
The neurotic is always half-drowning in anxiety, and always being half-rescued.
Suburb: a place that isn't city, isn't country, and isn't tolerable.
Love looks forward, hate looks back, anxiety has eyes all over its head.
Your children vividly remember every unkind thing you ever did to them, plus a few you really didn't.