I respectfully do not care.

My spiritual teacher asked me to write letters to my parents. Honest, if angry, letters about the ways they failed and betrayed me. Perhaps that should be a straightforward task. It doesn't feel that way for me. As a parent myself, I now consider my parents' actions through different lenses, and I worry about the ways I mother my own children. I'm quicker to excuse their behavior (or lack of) and try to explain it away or hold space for their own experiences. But that's not the point.  The point is that I'm profoundly hurt by the lacking relationships I've had with both my mother and father, all my life. I've desperately wanted their love, understanding and approval, but I can't recall a time I ever felt that I had it. My relationships with them have formed impossibly deep beliefs about myself as a person, and none of them are good. I vacillate between grief and anger over these histories. Despite my acknowledgment that neither of my parents can or will

Imagine growing up with plenty of well meaning adults around you. Sharing space with relatives, friends, teachers, and church goers who want nothing more than to help you successfully navigate this world. Imagine the warmth of that safety; the Knowing that everyone wants what is best for you. You grow and learn in a religious and social culture that teaches you right from wrong. You learn that certain groups of people are wicked, depraved and the opposite of all the things God wants us to be. You grow up absolutely sure that your religion is the right one, because your parents believe it. Your family believes it. All the people you know to be good believe it.  Your preachers break down story after story from the Bible into words you can understand, aligning themselves and you with the oppressed and persecuted people in those texts and every Sunday you come out on top. You are the people engulfed in a neverending search for righteousness and saddled with a God ordained duty to share thi