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I am finding it hard to make posts right now because I had foot surgery and have been lying around on the couch for eight days, recovering by taking pain pills, uninspired to write except today anyway, about annoying issues with my family of origin.

I have to remind myself that with kids, and adults alike, we must pick our battles. I feel like all of the parenting debacles my own parents visited on my brothers and sisters and myself follow us around still, even though our parents are gone. If mom and dad had any idea the trail of destruction they would leave I have to imagine they would have tried harder to have more awareness of what they were doing. Of the power of their actions for generations hence.

So, now, I struggle to figure out how much I care about any of our disputes and whether there is enough between us to try to preserve our flimsy relationships, our invisible-to-the-average-citizen relationships. My mother was an orphan so the idea of relationships eluded her her whole life. And Dad and his two sisters rejected each other so thoroughly they modeled clearly for their collective offspring just how to do it. It would be nice to think we didn’t have to encourage the promotion of these destructive shortcomings, but it is challenging to figure out how to get us all, or even any two of us, on the same page with such a notion.

I am game, but to ears of the others I believe I speak an entirely foreign language.

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