Article title: Sharing personal experiences that may benefit others:

My sister and I were raised by parents who abused us verbally and physically. The popular term today would be "dysfunctional." In my opinion it's a pretty over-rated word because all families have degrees of dysfunction. Some, however, are more damaging than others.

We managed to survive the abuse and graduated from high-school and college. But the seeds of low self-esteem, approval addiction, obsessive-compulsion and co-dependent behaviors were never far from the surface.

Without realizing why, we chose emotionally unavailable men to date, or in my case, pretended to faint or mimic sickness, or use alcohol and sex to gain attention. The more drama in our lives, the more alive we felt. Somebody needed us. Somebody wanted us. We knew the answers to everyone's problems. Our shoulder was always there for someone to cry on.

We both married. I immediately tried to turn my soft spoken husband into my father. My sister's husband became an air force pilot and while he was off on long missions, she had affairs with other men. Through the years we could always justify our actions. It was always someone else's fault, or some circumstance that we forced our solution on.

Next, we both found religion. We threw ourselves into getting delivered from demons, stopped smoking and wore long dresses and no make-up. Now we were not only dysfunctional but we were sanctified dysfunctional. What a combination!

Now in the defense of the church, although the doctrine was strict, there were times when we each experienced a new found peace that neither of us had experienced before. It often came in unexpected moments during a church service or prayer meeting. A feeling of absolute acceptance from God, just as we were.

I decided to receive counseling and begin reading every self-help book I could get my hands on. Of course I shared all of this with my beloved sister. And soon she was caught up in self-discovery along with me. We spent hours delving into our childhood and the abuse we experienced.

One day, I read a book about healing the child within you. This really struck a chord with me as I begin to realize that the majority of my crazy behavior came from the little girl within me wanting her voice heard and her needs met but didn't know how to receive it.

Upon sharing this with my sister, we decided to buy each other a doll. We would name them, "Little Loie" and "Little

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