Reading the book was a revelation. I read its entirety on my iPhone on the subway and more mornings than not, I was moved to tears. What touched me was that I was working as a social worker working with women with HIV+/AIDS, mental illness, substance abuse, etc... AND, being an orphan, I always idealized unconditional love of parents for their children. Never having experienced it, I was simultaneously sorrowful for not having been a recipient of such love and awed by love's incredible potential and flexibility. An absence has more presence in the case of parental love.
If depression is triggered by a harrowing trauma, imagine those of us with complex developmental trauma. Not remembering parental affection and love, how does that shape us?