There comes a time in your adulthood when you meet your parents as if for the first time again. It’s like a shock, a jolt into a different dimension when you begin to see all their flaws, when up until now you were worshiping the ground they walked on. It could be the day you see them cry for the first time, or the day they do something so unbelievably painful to you that you wonder how you’ve worshiped them for so long.
This moment is critical. Because you either begin to resent them for not being the superheroes you pictured in your head, or you begin a new kind of love for them. You begin to love them with purpose, with tenderness, with boundless compassion, and with awe. Only this awe, isn’t the the amazement of a child who thinks they’re irreproachable, perfect beings. It’s the awe of an adult who realizes how much self-doubt and personal fears your parents had to overcome while raising you. It’s the awe of all the sacrifices they made, and the deliberate choice they made in loving you even through the multiple times you broke their hearts.
You must learn to love them with compassion, for all the times they made you carry their emotional baggage, the times they gave your their own fears as inheritance, the way they forgot to love you the way you needed it.
Let your parents put down their capes so you can love them anew, with all their shortcomings, with all their extraordinary feats. You owe them that. They’ve been doing that to you for years.
Let them fold their cape.
Spare a little compassion.
Re-learn the art of loving them.
Isabelle Masado writes about body compassion on her blog "The Dear Body Project". She knows all too well that the personal is the political, is the community. As such, there is no discussing body compassion without talking about the assault on black bodies, trans women, and people with disabilities. Her mantra is, "How can I live in a way that makes room for you too"? She writes to examine, to heal, to redeem.