"Mymomismybestfriend.Icantalktoherabouteverything,shehelpsmethrougheverything.Wedon'treallyhaveanysecrets,"Isaid,playingwiththeweaveoftheorangeupholsteredchairIwassittingoninacrampedtherapistofficeattheUniversityofWisconsin'sfreehealthcenter."Maybethat'sapartoftheproblem,"saidthetherapist,kindly."What?"Maybethat'spartoftheproblem.You'relivinginahousewithoutwalls.Yourhouseneedswalls.""Idon'tthinkyouunderstand,"Iclarified."Thisisn't,like,aweirdfamilybedsituation.""No,"shesaid."Emotionalwalls.Maybethefactthatyou'vegivenyourmothersomuchaccesstoyourselfandviceversahasmadeitmoredifficultforyoutofeellikeyourownperson."Hearingthis,myimmediatereactionwastorejectthetheory.Iphysicallyrecoiledtothepointwherethetherapistaskedmetoexaminemyownbodylanguageand,whenIdid,IrealizedthatIhadpracticallyfoldedmyselfintothechairlikeapretzel;myarmswerecrossedsotightthatmyelbowshurt.ThereasonIwasinthisofficetobeginwithwasbecauseIwasfeelingsoisolatedthatIwasonthevergeofanervousbreakdown.Ithadgottentothepointwhere,whenIwasn'tinclass,Iwasusuallylyingaloneonthelivingroomfloorcryingand,upuntilthatpoint,mymotherwastheonlypersonIcouldtalktoabouthowIwasfeeling."You'resayingIshouldblockherout?"Iasked,stunned."No,I'msayingthatyouneedtosetboundaries."Atthetime,thisinformationsentmereeling—howwasIsupposedtogetoverfeelinglikeabrokenpuzzlepiecebyrejectingtheonepersonwhohadalwaysacceptedmeforwhoIwasunconditionally?—butlookingback,shewasright.MymotherhasbeenmybestfriendforaslongasIcanremember.Inhighschool,whileotherfriendswerehavingscreamingmatcheswiththeirparentsovercurfews,IwasleavinghousepartiesearlytowatchWhatNotToWearonthecouchwithmymombecauseI