[RavenSong]

Hmmmm, denial. The first thought that comes to mind is, "I'm not in denial." And then I wonder if I'm denying being in denial. My head is swimming...

I tend to be the person in my family who stands up and says the emperor has no clothes. Or I point out that there's an elephant standing in the middle of the room. What usually happens is I end up being accused by family members of being insane, crazy, nutso, looney...well, you get the idea.

In my family of origin, we were taught to never "air our dirty laundry". Heck, we were expected to pretend it didn't even exist. Feelings were not tolerated, especially negative emotions like anger or sadness or frustration. As a small child, I was always punished if I showed any anger or if I was pouting. I could go on and on about how that particular child-rearing practice messed me up big time, but I'll spare you all.

Anyway, denial was always, always, always practiced in my family. It was just a way of life. The elephant in the middle of the room, that's how I recall growing up.