Her mother is not oblivious and tries to get her daughter help and the well-meaning therapist tries to help Abigail by explaining that there are other people out there who also repeat rituals in order to feel some control. However, by sharing the story of a patient who uses prayer to alleviate anxiety the therapist accidentally opens a whole new realm of obsession for Abigail.
Sher manages to share her vulnerability without falling into an easily glib voice nor does she force meaning into her experiences. Each new compulsion is clearly rooted in what happens to her and around her. So much so that I found myself aching to reach back in time to just hold her as a child. In fact, I had to keep tissues close by as I read through this book because I could not stop the tears from surfacing even as Sher becomes older and her compulsion slides over into anorexia and exercise while never fully releasing herself from any of her other necessary habits. If she is interrupted while praying, she must begin at the beginning and if one ritual is cut short she merely adds more time onto another.
Through various forms of treatment and therapy, it is clear on every page that Sher understands how and why she does the things she does. With each page, the reader hopes nothing more than to come to a conclusion where all is well, that Abby will find some modicum of peace at last. How Sher comes to terms with herself is ultimately more satisfying than I could have hoped. And it is in her ability to be utterly transparent without ever being overly harsh towards herself or others that makes this memoir a rare gem among so many that try to be either too clever or too candid to inspire true sympathy. Abby Sher never allows herself to hide from the truth while never shoving her truth down the reader’s throat. How she does this is something other memoirists would do well to discover and use for themselves.
Oh, and keep some tissues nearby just in case you find yourself getting teary eyed too.