Day 03 – Your parents
Apr. 10th, 2020 05:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cybermuleLooking back at 17 years of journal, it feels like it's basically been a catalogue of woe from my parents' fallout. Or horrible relationships, which are probably linked to the above. And even the happiness of sprogging was later tainted by the feeling that maybe I'd transmitted something horrible from my parents to my child.
Turns out child was on the spectrum all along. We just got the official diagnosis. I'll probably deal with that elsewhere.
The relationships are settling down. I still struggle, despite the years of therapy. And that upsets me - it seems unfair that I have to do the work for the chaos I suffered as a kid. But there you go. You think you're fixed, which you are as long as you avoid triggering situations. Doing that is entirely reasonable when you're dealing with addicts. Addictions are terrorists. But then you find a cute, smart and funny alcoholic to date (*) and you meltdown and find a whole new range of things to fix.
It's worth it. But it is work. And it makes me wonder what normal people do with themselves all the time :P
Anyway, this is where I've drifted to a halt, and it's probably something I knew for a while to be honest. But here we are:
Disorganised attachment
* after a string of catastrophic dating choices, including shipping in some new parents to disappoint and fail to get on with.
Turns out child was on the spectrum all along. We just got the official diagnosis. I'll probably deal with that elsewhere.
The relationships are settling down. I still struggle, despite the years of therapy. And that upsets me - it seems unfair that I have to do the work for the chaos I suffered as a kid. But there you go. You think you're fixed, which you are as long as you avoid triggering situations. Doing that is entirely reasonable when you're dealing with addicts. Addictions are terrorists. But then you find a cute, smart and funny alcoholic to date (*) and you meltdown and find a whole new range of things to fix.
It's worth it. But it is work. And it makes me wonder what normal people do with themselves all the time :P
Anyway, this is where I've drifted to a halt, and it's probably something I knew for a while to be honest. But here we are:
Disorganised attachment
* after a string of catastrophic dating choices, including shipping in some new parents to disappoint and fail to get on with.
