Hillbilly Elegy

scream at her when she did something I
didn’t like, but that seemed mean. Or I
could withdraw and get away. Those
were the proverbial arrows in my
quiver, and I had nothing else. The
thought of fighting with her reduced me
to a morass of the qualities I thought I
hadn’t inherited from my family: stress,
sadness, fear, anxiety. It was all there,
and it was intense.
So I tried to get away, but Usha
wouldn’t let me. I tried to break
everything off multiple times, but she
told me that was stupid unless I didn’t
care about her. So I’d scream and I’d
yell. I’d do all of the hateful things that
my mother had done. And then I’d feel