Healing and re-healing and more fucking healing.
Here we go again, trying to heal through a variety of childhood traumas. Buckle the fuckle up, I guess. So, my childhood was sprinkled with violence as much as it was surrounded by love. That's what you get when your parents never went to therapy for their traumas and subconsciously fucking up their children as a consequence. The only reason I could find myself forgiving them for their parenting mistakes is because I know they never meant to, and they are aware of what their mistakes caused, and they are actively trying to fix and understand our pain. Not every parent is like them, I am well aware, and I also know that their mistakes are not everything they are to me. There is a huge difference between parents who consciously and knowingly hurt their children and parents who just made mistakes. For all their mistakes caused my childhood to retain damages, they also tried their best to show me love in the ways they had never been shown by their own parents, and I appreciate that.