something unchanged

Something unchanged. How she hangs everything above the kitchen sink. How she takes memo on a scrap paper. I’ve seen and been among these things for many years. Even with over two decades gap, it’s something that gives me familiar ease.

Something unchanged can also be disappointment and anguish. The way they are. Grief was so deep as the untold truth began to reveal in my adulthood.

Coming back to parents home in Japan is complex to me. It comes with unspoken expectation of daughter’s duty and also means returning to where the exact start of trauma was. Still, this is where I call ‘home’ for half of my life and my heritage is from. It had created its own comfort and pain. There were always duality and many layers.

Since my mother’s disclosure during the early pandemic and how my father dealt with unchanged uncaring comments, and this time they did another disclosure of their own, I’ve recognised the difference from my last visit.

I now deal with more understanding and empathy but without over-absolving as if it is my own trauma in the process. I put boundaries, speak my own voice and prioritise my well-being. I’ve begun to let go of the things no longer helps me carry. It wasn’t mine to carry from the first place.

I have never had this amount and depth of conversation with my parents in forty years. Forty years. Literally it felt like life-time worth of communication has been happening within two months and you know what, it’s been so releasing and healing. Imagine that kind of open and honest conversation was allowed in childhood? Imagine how much trust could have been established instead of resentment?

As my healing journey and practice continues, my inner child is finally rested at this very home. Today I am claiming what I thought wasn’t available for me. Safety. Acceptance. Just being me.

It’s been a long coming home.