In Process
I've been thinking about writing a post about my dad, or rather, a trip I took with him that has become unexpectedly memorable in the last few weeks.Not in a good way, to be clear.
The facts of this trip, as I know them, haven't changed since 1972, when all this happened. Over time, though, different versions have emerged. Different, but still me. My memories have become a personal Rashomon.
Seven years of therapy will do that in terms of interpreting memories. It also helped me understand that while the facts don't change, my understanding of the consequences of those facts changes over time as I grow.
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