visiting my family overseas
I didn't realize how much clarity consistent writing on Bear has brought me, until this unprecedented six-day gap from posting. I have been visiting my family overseas, making me neglect writing for a few days. However, inner turmoil that has built-up the past few days made me realize the exigency of returning to the swing of things.
My vacation back to my family's home has brought about all kinds of complicated emotions, whose confrontation I have been avoiding in every visit. In 2019, I moved out with an unyielding decision that I would never, ever come back. My childhood was challenging to say the least (something I've been trying to overcome with regular therapy), grueling memories always trudging in the back of my head. I ended up visiting twice before, with this being my third.
Yesterday, I spent some quality time with my mother, baking fresh bread and pies. We conversed about random topics - career, friends, relationships, university. I watched her knead the fresh dough, her hands moving with practiced ease. I watched her concentrated face, etched with deep lines due to age, and felt an unexplainable pang of sentimentality.
Sometimes I convince myself that my parents did the best with what they had, and all the trauma I suffered was not intentional. Are their actions excused if it was not deliberate, or do I still have the rights to be angry? I wouldn't have been on therapy and medication if I felt secure as a child. Right?
Yet again, what I have learned from therapy is that life does not exist in dichotomies. It is not black and white, neither people are. I can admit the sacrifices my parents have made for me, while simultaneously acknowledging their emotional negligence and conditional love growing up. It is tough and takes substantial willpower to view things from a wider perspective. Occasionally, I still find myself blinded with rage, but hopefully I will get there.