My therapist asked me to start writing a journal, or maybe a recollection of past events, whatever I thought was best. A few years ago I would’ve thought that writing down my feelings and thoughts was pointless, as would be seeing a therapist in the first place. I thought I got a handle on things on my own, you know, doing the macho act of not asking for outside help. Our parents all knew each other for the most part, and despite a few rivalries and some fights amongst us over the years, we got along pretty well, all growing up within a mile of one another.