This piece is part of The Frisky’s How To Deal Week, in which we’re tackling mental health issues.
I suppose in some ways I was destined to become a control freak. I was born into a proud dynasty of control freaks. My family is Italian, and growing up it was made very clear to me that a woman’s job is to keep everyone–especially the men–in line. Not only was I the oldest child, I was the only girl with three younger brothers, so I had a big job to do. If one of my brothers did something dumb, I could expect a call from my grandma asking why I’d “let him act that way.” “You have to control your brothers,” my great aunt would tell me as she rolled out biscotti dough. “If you don’t, who will?” Keep reading »