Today, after seeing clients, I had the strongest urge to call my parents and tell them I loved them (I didn't, but I will before the weekend is over). For all the mistakes they may have made, they really did love me and take care of me. I was never abused or neglected.
We were a pretty disfunctional family - still are. I remember telling stories about my family to a friend in DC once. She was shocked. She hadn't imagined a family could actually be like that. Then she described her family...well adjusted, rarely fought, comfortable, etc. I was just as amazed. To me, it sounded too idyllic to be real. But now I'm in a position to hear stories about all sorts of families. Families where poverty is so bad that the children have to work in the fields before they are 10. Families where alcoholism and drug abuse is rampant. Families where there is abuse, incest, and neglect. Families that are stable, but where illness or death has made its mark.
Today, I felt rage for my client, for what that childhood had been like. And I am grateful, in response, for what my parents were able to give me.
It has been an absolutely beautiful day here. Warm, sunny, light breeze - it feels so much like spring (my favorite season).
As a side note to the parenting topic - I watched Capturing the Friedmans last night with B. It was both disturbing and very interesting.