One Woman's Perspective
Last Week's Column

Going Home Again
by Kira Sampson

y the time you read this, I should be in Texas visiting my mom (that is, provided the weather cooperates and the roads aren’t too icy). Growing up in a seriously dysfunctional family, I find it a little strange to be looking forward to going home. For many years I went only out of a sense of duty, an effort to keep up appearances. Families are supposed to love each other and be happy to see each other. And one thing our family was good at was pretending to be normal.

Do you know what it’s like growing up knowing that you and your family are different from your peers, but not knowing exactly how or why? It took me many years of therapy to unlock the secrets of my childhood. Now I understand where the problem was, and where the fault lies. But there are times that I wish I could go back in time and whisper into the ear of the little girl that I was, and tell her...what? Everything will be all right? Well, it will and it won’t. Life is like that.

When I first discovered some of the hidden trauma of my past, I was very angry. I felt cheated out of a normal childhood. I came to understand that a lot of my problems (including my compulsive overeating) stem from that trauma. But, as I grew older, I realized that my parents were, for the most part, doing the best they could. They were wounded children, too, and they never had the benefit of therapy to understand how and why they became the people they were.

Having a child of my own, and raising him at a distance from family, has helped me to realize that there were some good things about growing up surrounded by family, and to want him to be able to benefit from that, also. I had about a dozen first cousins and an uncountable number of second and third cousins living in the same small town where I grew up. I never lacked for playmates or understanding adults to turn to. And, most of all, there was that sense of connection — of family.

I will admit that the fact that my father has passed on makes it a lot easier for me to go home again. He was a wonderful but deeply troubled man. Some of my best and worst memories of childhood center around him. He died the year before my son was born, so he never knew that he had grandchildren. And my son will never know him — never know the warm, loving, outgoing person who was my father. But my son will also be spared the trauma that I experienced, except as it affects me and my relationship with him. And I’m trying very hard to ensure that the impact of that is minimal.

So I’m going home again. And, Thomas Mann notwithstanding, you can go home again — not to the way it was, thank goodness, but to the way it is. And for me, at least, the way it is is much better than the way it was.

Kira Sampson is a writer, homeschool mother, news editor, and editor/publisher of two newsletters, one for her local homeschool group and the other for a local writer's group.

She is also one of the Founders of VegSource. Her column, One Woman's Perspective, is a regular feature of VegSource On-Line Magazine.