My parents didn’t really seem like my parents. I used to wish that my “real” parents would find me and take me away from these “impostors”. For one, their behavior didn’t match that of the TV-show parents I watched, so they didn’t fulfill my expectations of how “parents” should act. But even without these unmet expectations, they were kinda mean and selfish.
But it’s not like they chose to be this way. Who would choose to be a crappy parent? And I didn’t choose to watch TV in order to compare my parents to fictional characters. All this stuff just kinda happens.
And it also happened that I resented my parents for a very long time. They were jerks, and their lousy parenting was the reason my life was the way it was. Clearly, if a baker half-heartedly slaps together a cake, using the worst ingredients, the final product is not going to be delicious, right?
But as it happens, I eventually realized that it’s all out of our control: my control, their control, their parent’s control, and so on. And I didn’t choose to stop the resentment and the blaming, it just kinda stopped on its own.
The memories of my childhood rarely enter my thoughts anymore, or if they do, I don’t pay attention. But what does filter through, are the lessons of what not to do, those are seared into my mind, stinging if my actions wander in their direction — it appears that I won’t be repeating certain behaviors of my parents.