In my imagination was always the picture of the loving family, of parents who love you just the way you are, who support you when you fall, who see and connect to you, who make an effort to understand you, who give you the feeling of belonging.It was only an idealistic picture, non of this was true but it was with me for such a long time.Even in my twenties I couldn’t accept that I was raised in a climate of disconnection, depression, loneliness, stress, pressure and emotional coldness. Perfectionism was my escape, the illusion to get this feeling of warmth, love, connection, compassion and belonging when I do everything…