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April 1st, 2002

home home again

Back home after spending Easter at my mom's in Chicago. What an incredibly stressful weekend. We talked about Things, which was hard. It's always hard to start treating a relationship with a parent as an adult-adult thing. The child-parent hierarchy is stuck within us all, literally from birth, and when it comes time to be critical of our upbringing, even in the most constructive ways, it can be shaming, and very guilt-forming.

For me I think it was a bit of both, and a difficult time in finding the gray area between "I was a rotten child who didn't measure up to my parents' expectations" and "I had terrible parents who didn't know shit about raising a kid." Finding the grays is always a challenge.

Usually the drive back home is time for my wife and I to talk about the visit, which often gives me some perspective. But we were in separate vehicles this time, due to some unavoidable scheduling problems, so I had to drive home with only my dog for company.

I got home and in a burst of energy began doing laundry, straightening up, unpacking, working, and various other things. It's not good energy, though; it's the flitting, unfocussed, nervous kind, more about keeping busy to avoid thinking about what's really on my mind and what really needs doing. I'm still nervous, twitchy, and sad, and now it's time for bed. We'll see how that goes.

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Charley

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