A topic I frequently revisit is the mystery of my parents. Since they split when I was one, I've existed on their stories for the "facts." But I have concluded that both are to blame and both can be innocent now. Is it possible that we all tell our own truths? That when it comes to human emotions, memories, and thoughts, we state reality as we see it, and that is the "truth"? You say you poked me. I say you pinched me. You say it wasn't intentional. I say it was. With this sort of stuff, who's to say? Who's to get inside another heart and mind and decide what it did or did not intend?
I have decided that I don't care to know "the facts." If I found out that one parent was the Big Bad Wolf, one the Savior, would it change my obligation to forgive them both, treat them both kindly, love them both? Am I going to be like, mommy, or daddy, you fucked up, therefore I must treat you like shit? I would only be perpetuating the victim hood cycle then. We are creatures of imitation. Intended or unintended abuse is learned from being abused.