I grew up thinking that my family was perfect. That there was none other as close as we were. That we were one of a kind - nothing was ever going to happen to us. This is all due to my parents, the role they played in my house, the family dinners we had, the way that they always laughed at each other. It was only until a couple of years ago that my brain started to fight with my heart. My parents aren't perfect and they never were. They are inherently different from one another, and most importantly, they are going through two very different phases of life right now - and this is all okay.