My entire family tree IS a broken home. As a result, I was out to prove, and I mean prove at no matter what cost, that I could C H A N G E that tree.
Wrong.
Without a doubt, I feel this is just a freaking broken gene in the body thing.

(we all know I'm a mom of 3 bleh bleh yada ).

I have lived it all.
Every stressor possible to human existence. I was determined, when at the time, my oldest daughter was 5 and running a kite through the yard. My mom was there, and looked at me and said this:
"She has everything we never did."

2 parents in home, no divorce, death, etc.

I remember thinking, at all cost, I would make sure that remained true.

So the definition of a broken home now lays on the table. I feel, that though my efforts were heart-felt and true, the marriage quite honestly, was a demise to everyone's existance in my house.

So, yeah, broken homes are as long as my family tree, even my own, though we appeared in tact, we were not, and are not.

Pick that apart.

I am a study.

But, the more we search the more we learn, and in the end, mental illness just is....
mental illness.

Unexplainable, just like many other illnesses.

*I actually am a stronger person , I believe anyway, as a result of living in a "broken home".
It gave me strength, hard times, many times give a hefty dose of resiliance.
I do need a spell check on here.
as a tiny side note, I use a dictionary quite often while typing, becayse I am not perfect.