I dare you to tell me I can’t do something.

I love — seriously LOVE — when the odds are stacked against me.

I don’t know where I got the personality trait, because my upbringing certainly wouldn’t have been an one that made me so perseverant.

My father was coddled by his mom and his stepfather.

When he needed money and was short, they would give him money.

He worked the bare minimum. He was a stock broker in New York, he would get there right at 9:00, leave right at 5:00, take the same train home every single day .

Take the same train in Grand Central, every single morning. Play golf at the same time every single Saturday and Sunday during the spring, summer and fall and basically lived a very coddled life.

There was no fight, no tenacity in him at all. He just lived and died young and I feel like he never really, truly lived.

You could see it from his upbringing, from his mom that coddled him and babied him, he was a momma’s boy.

My mother… well, my mother was complicated to say the least. She taught me a lot of things about fighting, in the sense that you need to fight and never give up. But not in a positive way, because as a role model she was always giving up and wanting to leave the earth.

For those of you who are long-term readers, you know my mom tried to commit suicide when I was five years old and I was in the car with her, that she decided to ram 65 miles an hour into a parked car.

She tried several other times in subliminal, small ways. I was always hearing…

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