Impasse

Sometimes I wish I did not have the insight that I do. Sometimes I wish I did not understand the panic of my mother to get me away from my father. Sometimes I wish I did not understand the tears my father wept for a daughter he could not figure out how to be there for. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t studied it, understood its pathology, so able to predict its patterns it’s like an experiment. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t chosen to work with it, to humanize each side. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t felt both sides, I hadn’t once treated someone the way my father did my mother and my mother did my father. But I am my mother’s daughter and I am my father’s daughter. My heart aches for each the same as much as it loves and despairs and angers with, for each. What a beautifully terrible impasse we have arrived at in this healing. 

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