Going Home to Go Away
and bringing your creative practice with you
My parents are good parents. My childhood was safe and nurturing. I was raised as a member of a community, to be community minded. They instilled in me a natural tendency to question power and root for the underdog, to look up the stream, to share what I have even when I only have a little. I am so grateful for this. It’s foundational to who I am.
We’ve had difficult family moments, for sure. They can look back and point to all the things they wish they’d done differently. It’s not always been easy peasy lemon squeezy. To be extremely real, once in high school I told my mom during a heated fight that she was being a “f*cking b*tch,” and she slapped me, for example. It was the first and only time I have ever been slapped. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, and we both burst into tears and tripped over each other apologizing. I don’t advocate violence, and I kinda think that slap was warranted? That’s a story for another time…or maybe never. My point is that there have been big and little hurts, resentments, boundary setting, generational healing and generational divides. My brother and I have very different experiences in this world. We are friendly but not close. And, my parents are good parents.
