The Highest Room in the Tallest Tower
Until I understood my deeply distorted perception of what love was, was I able to become truly free.
As a kid, I was taught that love was giving your all, at all costs, in order to keep others constantly satisfied.
I was taught that saving anything for myself or wanting anything of my own made me a selfish, awful person; this included making my own decisions. Afterall, they may upset someone, and that just couldn’t do.
It wasn’t until recently that I was opened to where my warped idea of love began, reading Lindsay C. Gibson’s book, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents.
Aside from when I read Courtney Carver’s heart wrenching story of having to put her dog down in Soulful Simplicity, have I ever been so sentimentally impacted by a book.
Reading Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents was akin to when you realize you have a cut on your hand by putting hand sanitizer on. Though, Gibson’s book was closer to cleaning a deep gash, vigorously, with alcohol.
Before I continue, I want to mention that my parents are not bad people. They both have done and given me so much throughout my life that I can only be deeply thankful for coming across this book to be able to understand them greater, finding compassion for them in replace of resentment…
