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Dangerous Compassions

in common

love cats

Hello, reader.  How’s tricks?  I was trying to make the fat morning, but my mind wandered down a path that was not conducive to sleep.  I thought about someone I loved who said some silly things to me.  Yes, arguing with people in my head is too often a pastime!  This person told me they had nothing in common with their family, in a disdainful way that sounded like hate.

But I met their parents–their parents came to visit.  And I was amazed by how much they had in common.

Yes, at some point, most of us pull away somehow from our relatives, differentiate, and might one day return.  But please let me tell you what I noticed.

family

This person I loved–here are the things they have in common with at least one of their parents.

  • last name
  • memories of shared experiences
  • shared understanding of a homeland / biome
  • tall
  • pretty
  • white
  • articulate
  • not much smiling
  • hiking
  • yoga
  • religion
  • class
  • entitled vibe

So much was in common, almost like it was hard to think of differences!  Some age things, politics, taste in music?

Maybe my friend thinks name, memories, homeland, etc are not important.  Is politics everything?  The friend is vegan, sat in trees to protect them, and has nonbinary gender.  Sure, the parents are not like that.

But what matters most, to identity, and who a person really is?

what matters

I don’t strive to be like my family of origin.  So many heartbreaks, violences, conflicts, terrors, and injustices were part of my youth.  There was laughter, music, delicious foods, and joy also.  My mom was a very caring person, and I’m so grateful to her.  But my family of origin in many ways is not made of people I should emulate.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not like that.  We have so much in common, it hurts!  Having so much in common is dangerous.  That’s why their difficult parts scare me so badly–those trait are inside of me also, latent or expressed.  I need to be careful not to harm others like I was harmed.

It’s a cliche that a middle aged person stares into the mirror and says, “I’ve become my mother.”  Genes mean that can sort of happen.  You resist the family dysfunction or pitfalls.  But then you might realize that in your own way, you’re doing it all.

thank you

I’m grateful I had Christianity as a kid, in the sense that Christian mythology is everywhere in the west.  Christianity is something to push up against, an interesting framework.

But at the same time, I resent that I was taught misogynist bullshit, in church and at Christian school when I was little.  I resent that the self-righteous judgement was done to me, and put inside me to do to others.  It’s so much work, to get all of that out.

Likewise, my family made me.  I’m grateful for part of it, and it’s a ton of work to heal from the rest of it.  But I can’t change that past, so I move forward, doing my best.

Thank you for supporting me as I learn and become the Laura-Marie I need to be.  There are so many ways to change.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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