OKAY, well this wasn't a re-parenting field trip on purpose; I just went to my family home, Monrovia Place to borrow my folks car. I slept there because my I was going to drop the patriarch of the home to his place of work in the morning and then be off with the vehicle.
But being there is such an education for me because I observe (and shock/traumatize myself) when I watch the interactions between my two parents. I woke up hearing my father singing mickey mouse: m-i-c-k-e-y - and it dawned on me that he's not crazy - in that mainstream sense of the word - ha. ha. ha - but more like horribly triggered around his own childhood.
He was in the bathroom/ shower and sang the song over, and over , over again for about 20 minutes. I started to remember when one of my brothers attack me, and how he never got involved. IN fact, one time, he started bursting into tears at the top of stairs - as if he (my dad) was a little boy - the one being attacked.
... and
Also while I was in the house - I was telling my mother how much time and effort and patience it has taken to make sure Tigana is safe and secure, and for the house to run well - smooth and efficient - with everyones feelings being heard. Sometimes I have feelings of wanting to link our experiences - like I want to erase stuff that has happened in the past. It's like I'm set to denial when I'm ready. SO, i asked her: how did you run a home, how did you do it.
Her reply: I didn't.
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