Psychoanalysis was her family' s religion— instead of wafers and wine, there were Seconals, Nembutals, and gin. Baptized into the faith at fourteen, Melissa Knox endured her analyst' s praise of her childlike, victimized mother— who leaned too close, ate off Melissa' s plate, and thought " pedophile" meant " silly person." Gaslighted with the notions that she' d seduced her father, failed to masturbate, and betrayed her mother, Melissa shouldered the blame. Her story of a family pulled into and torn apart by psychoanalysis exposes the abuse inherent in its authoritarianism as Melissa learns, with a startling sense of humor and admirable chagrin, that divorcing Mom is sometimes the least crazy thing to do.