The sides of a 45 yo child staying with her parents for a week for the first time in 27 years

The part of me that dissociates when my parents are having an inane fight that is actually just my stepdad hitting his extremely low tolerance of things not being exactly as he wants them to be

The part of me that feels haunted when I’m being nearly chased around the house with constant criticisms on what I’m doing wrong and how I’m fucking up their very measured existence. For example, filling an ice cube tray and having my mom watch over my shoulder to make sure I’m doing it right or leaving the bathroom fan on to clear out the smell after I shit and having my mom run behind me to turn it off not to waste electricity

The part of me that enjoys playing games with my mom, getting a little competitive and talking a little shit in fun

The part of me that hates playing games with my mom because when things don’t go exactly her way she starts blaming the game, me, the cards, the whatever

The part of me that still experiences satisfaction when either of them want to spend time with me

The part of me that still wants to murder them because I have not ever actually been accepted for who I am 

The part of me that knows I am deeply loved by my mother

The part of me that knows my mother wants me to be different

The part of me that is still hyper-vigilant when I hear them talking in another room because it is often about me

The part of me that strains to hear the tone of voice being used when they are talking about me to know if it’s something I need to confront or if it’s just friendly commentary

The part of me that thinks my parents just shouldn’t be fucking talking about me when I’m in the next room

The part of me that sees my mom’s pattern of underfeeding her children (me and all of her pets) has created a feeling of starvation and over-excitation when it comes to “treats”

The part of me that shared some of my experience with a friend and believing that friend - instead of listening to what I said - is off in her own story about me which makes me feel unsafe

The part of me that just wants to get the fuck out of here and doesn’t ever intend to sleep here again

The part of me that wishes to just be seen by them as I am rather than as they are

The part of me that feels all the energy leave my body after a period of dissociation and distant relief that the conflict didn't come all the way to my door

The part of me that wishes these people would choose some interaction with the outside world for a sense of perspective and otherness

The part of me that sees the genuine, caring acts of service they do for me in multiple ways

The part of me that remembers so much of what I've undone from how I was raised, how I used to think, how I used to view people as ugly by default, how I used to think I was always right and how much of that I don't carry anymore, either not at all, not in the same way or not to the same degree

The part of me that hears, on repeat, my mom say limiting things - “it’s always the rich!”

The part of me that sees, on repeat, my mom enjoying limitation while also fighting it

The part of me that remembers going to therapy with my mom when I was 11 and saying I felt a need to fight something. Seeing now, that I inherited that behavior from them. They like to have something to fight, to complain about, to be in friction with, and they recreate it over and over dozens of times/day

The part of me that feels completely alone when I'm here after months of being actually alone and feeling quite content

The part of me that resents anything I just have to "get through" while knowing my default to "get through" it is a choice rather than the actual circumstances. It’s also a survival mechanism, so no shade

The part of me that understands the "my house, my rules" way of thinking and sees my own self as a brat and in my ego for not wanting to abide

The part of me that thinks the "my house, my rules" way of thinking is archaic and patriarchal and should be challenged and when we are all in the same space different rules should apply that are more collaborative and create a pulsing energy for everyone rather than a conflicting or us/them energy

The part of me that has understood clearly for over a week, a huge part of my work in the world is helping people hold their own cognitive dissonance and work with it

The part of me that finds it absurd that after a flare-up in the parental home, it subsides and then treated like it didn't happen

The part of me that is grateful that, after a flare-up in my parents' home, it subsides and then is ignored and everyone acts like everything is fine

The part of me that recalls dozens of times when - even though my mom hides stories from my stepdad in order to not be made fun of - she willy nilly shares my stories with him even though they're things he'd make fun of

The grief I feel in my heart

The excitement that I'm 36 hours from leaving

The remembering that we do best in a distanced relationship where we discuss the parts of ourselves that are the same and avoid the parts of us that are different

The sadness I feel at that

The grief I feel at feeling unknown

The sadness I feel at the grief I feel

The softness I feel when I feel the sadness and grief and the waters rise to the surface and break just a little and it gives me visceral relief and it feels like cool calm flowing over the surface of my skin and inside myself and the tension breaks

The deep, purely petty satisfaction that I am the exact things my stepdad has hated for as long as I can remember

And even so, we enjoy each other’s brief company and have traveled together twice this year and enjoyed it